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SCENE I.

ACT I.

Enter THEODORET, BRUNHALT, and BAWDBER.
Brun. Tax me with these hot taintures?
Theod. You're too sudden;

I do but gently tell you what becomes you,
And what may bend your honour; how these

courses,

Of loose and lazy pleasures, not suspected,
Butdone and known; your mind that grants nolimit,
And all your actions follow, which loose people,
That see but through a mist of circumstance,
Dare term ambitious; all your ways hide sores
Opening in the end to nothing but ulcers.
Your instruments like these may call the world,
And with a fearful clamour, to examine
Why, and to what we govern. From example,

If not for virtue's sake, you may be honest: There have been great ones, good ones, and 'tis necessary,

Because you are yourself, and by yourself,
A self-piece from the touch of power and justice,
You should command yourself. You may imagine
(Which cozens all the world, but chiefly women)
The name of greatness glorifies your actions;
And strong power, like a pent-house, promises
To shade you from opinion: Take heed, mother!
And let us all take heed! these most abuse us:
The sins we do people behold through optics,
Which shew them ten times more than common

vices,

And often multiply them: Then what justice Dare we inflict upon the weak offenders, When we are thieves ourselves?

Brun. This is Martell,

Studied and penn'd unto you; whose base person,
I charge you by the love you owe a mother,
And as you hope for blessings from her prayers,
Neither to give belief to, nor allowance!
Next, I tell you, sir, you, from whom obedience
Is so far fled that you dare tax a mother,
Nay, further, brand her honour with your slanders,
And break into the treasures of her credit,
Your easiness is abused, your faith freighted
With lies, malicious lies; your merchant mis-
chief;

He that ne'er knew more trade than tales, and

tumbling

Suspicions into honest hearts: What you or he,
Or all the world, dare lay upon my worth,
This for your poor opinions! I am she,
And so will bear myself, whose truth and whiteness
Shall ever stand as far from these detections
As you from duty. Get you better servants,
People of honest actions, without ends,
And whip these knaves away! they eat your fa-

vours,

And turn 'em unto poisons. My known credit,
Whom all the courts o' this side Nile have envied,
And happy she could cite me, brought in question,
Now in my hours of age and reverence,
When rather superstition should be rendered?
And by a rush that one day's warmth
Hath shot up to this swelling? Give me justice,
Which is his life!

Theod. This is an impudence;

And he must tell you, that 'till now, mother, Brought you a son's obedience, and now breaks it Above the sufferance of a son.

Baw. Bless us!

For I do now begin to feel myself
Tucking into a halter, and the ladder
Turning from me, one pulling at my legs too.
Theod. These truths are no man's tales, but
all mens' troubles;

They are, though your strange greatness would out-stare 'em :

Witness the daily libels, almost ballads,
In every place almost, in every province,
Are made upon your lust; tavern discourses;
Crowds cram'd with whispers; nay, the holy
temples

Are not without your curses. Now you would blush;

But your black tainted blood dare not appear, For fear I should fright that too.

Brun. Oh, ye gods!

Theod. Do not abuse their names! they see your actions:

And your conceal'd sins, though you work like moles,

Lie level to their justice.

Brun. Art thou a son?

Theod. The more my shame is of so bad a mother,

And more your wretchedness you let me be so. But, woman, (for a mother's name hath left me, Since you have left your honour) mend these ruins,

And build again that broken fame; and fairly,

(Your most intemperate fires have burnt) and quickly,

Within these ten days, take a monastery, A most strict house; a house where none may whisper,

Where no more light is known but what may make you

Believe there is a day; where no hope dwells, Nor comfort but in tears

Brun. Oh, misery!

Theod. And there to cold repentance, and
starv'd penance,

Tie your succeeding days: Or curse me, Heaven,
If all your gilded knaves, brokers, and bedders,
Even he you built from nothing, strong Protaldye,
Be not made ambling geldings! all your maids,
If that name do not shame 'em, fed with spunges
To suck away their rankness! and yourself
Only to empty pictures and dead arras
Offer your old desires!

Brun. I will not curse you,
Nor lay a prophecy upon your pride,
Though Heav'n might grant me both; unthankful,
no!

I nourish'd you; 'twas I, poor I, groan'd for you; 'Twas I felt what you suffer'd; I lamented When sickness or sad hours held back your sweetness;

'Twas I pay'd for your sleeps; I watch'd your wakings;

My daily cares and fears that rid, play'd, walk’d,
Discours'd, discover'd, fed and fashion'd you
To what you are; and am I thus rewarded?

Theod. But that I know these tears, I could
dote on 'em,

And kneel to catch 'em as they fall, then knit 'em
Into an armlet, ever to be honour'd:
But, woman, they are dangerous drops, deceitful,
Full of the weeper, anger and ill nature.

Brun. In my last hours despis'd?
Theod. That text should tell
How ugly it becomes you to err thus:
Your flames are spent, nothing but smoke main-
tains you;

And those your favour and your bounty suffers, Lie not with you, they do but lay lust on you, And then embrace you as they caught a palsy; Your power they may love, and like Spanish jennets

Commit with such a gust

Baw. I would take whipping, And pay a fine now!

[Exit.

Theod. But were you once disgrac'd, Or fall'n in wealth, like leaves they would fly

from you,

And become browse for every beast. You will'd me
To stock myself with better friends, and servants;
With what face dare you see me, or any mankind,
That keep a race of such unheard-of relics,
Bawds, lechers, leeches, female fornications,
And children in their rudiments to vices,
Old men to shew examples, and (lest Art
Should lose herself in act) to call back Custom?
Leave these, and live like Niobe! I told you how;
And when your eyes have dropt away remembrance

Of what you were, I am your son: Perform it! [Erit.

Brun. Am I a woman, and no more power in

me

To tie this tiger up? a soul to no end?
Have I got shame, and lost my will? Brunhalt,
From this accursed hour forget thou bor'st him,
Or any part of thy blood gave
him living!
Let him be to thee an antipathy,

A thing thy nature sweats at, and turns backward:

Throw all the mischiefs on him that thyself, Or women worse than thou art, have invented, And kill him drunk, or doubtful!

Enter BAWDBER, PROTALDYE, and LECURE.
Bazo. Such a sweat

I never was in yet! clipt of my minstrels,
My toys to prick up wenches withal? uphold me;
It runs like snow-balls through me!

Brun. Now, my varlets,

My slaves, my running thoughts, my executions!
Baw. Lord, how she looks!
Brun. Hell take you all!
Baw. We shall be gelt.
Brun. Your mistress,

Your old and honour'd mistress, you tir'd curtals,
Suffers for your base sins! I must be cloister'd,
Mew'd up to make me virtuous: Who can help
this?

Now you stand still, like statues! Come, Protaldye!

One kiss before I perish, kiss me strongly !
Another, and a third!

Lec. I fear not gelding,

As long as she holds this way.

Brun. The young courser,

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Had no end but allegiance and my honour,
Yet I am jealous, I have pass'd the bounds
Of a son's duty: For, suppose her worse
Than your report, not by bare circumstance
But evident proof confirm'd, has given her out;
Yet since all weaknesses in a kingdom are
No more to be severely punish'd, than
The faults of kings are, by the Thunderer,
As oft as they offend, to be reveng'd;
If not for piety, yet for policy,
Since some are of necessity to be spar'd,
I might, and now I wish I had not look'd
With such strict eyes into her follies.

Mart. Sir,

A duty well discharg'd is never follow'd
By sad repentance; nor did your highness ever

That unlick'd lump of mine, will win thy mis- Make payment of the debt you ow'd her, better

tress:

Must I be chaste, Protaldye?

Prot. Thus, and thus, lady!

Brun. It shall be so: Let him seek fools for vestals!

Here is my cloister.

Lec. But what safety, madam, Find you in staying here?

Brun. Th'hast hit my meaning:

I will to Thierry, son of my blessings,
And there complain me, tell my tale so subtilly,
That the cold stones shall sweat, and statues
mourn;

And thou shalt weep, Protaldye, in my witness:
And these forswear.

Baw. Yes; any thing but gelding!
I am not yet in quiet, noble lady:
Let it be done to-night, for without doubt
To-morrow we are capons!

Brun. Sleep shall not seize me,
Nor any food befriend me but thy kisses,
Ere I forsake this desart. I live honest?
He may as well bid dead men walk! I humbled,
Or bent below my power? let night-dogs tear me,
And goblins ride me in my sleep to jelly,
Ere I forsake my sphere!]

Lec. This place you will.

Than in your late reproofs, not of her, but
Those crimes that made her worthy of reproof.
The most remarkable point in which kings differ
From private men, is that they not alone
Stand bound to be in themselves innocent,
But that all such as are allied to them
In nearness, or dependence, by their care.
Should be free from suspicion of all crime:
And you have reap'd a double benefit
From this last great act: First, in the restraint
Of her lost pleasures you remove th' example
From others of the like licentiousness;
Then when 'tis known that your severity
Extended to your mother, who dares hope for
The least indulgence or connivance in
The easiest slips that may prove dangerous
To you, or to the kingdom?

Theod. I must grant

Your reasons good, Martell, if, as she is
My mother, she had been my subject, or
That only here she could make challenge to
A place of being: But I know her temper,
And fear (if such a word become a king)
That in discovering her, I have let loose
A tigress, whose rage, being shut up in darkness,
Was grievous only to herself; which, brought
Into the view of light, her cruelty,

Provok'd by her own shame, will turn on him
That foolishly presum'd to let her see
The loath'd shape of her own deformity.
Mart. Beasts of that nature, when rebellious
threats

Begin to appear only in their eyes,
Or any motion that may give suspicion
Of the least violence, should be chained up;
Their fangs and teeth, and all their means of hurt
Par'd off, and knock'd out; and so made unable
To do ill, they would soon begin to loath it.
I'll apply nothing; but had your grace done,
Or would do yet, what your less-forward zeal
In words did only threaten, far less danger
Would grow from acting it on her, than may
Perhaps have being from her apprehension
Of what may once be practis'd: For, believe it,
Who, confident of his own power, presumes
To spend threats on an enemy, that hath means
To shun the worst they can effect, gives armour
To keep off his own strength; nay, more, disarms
Himself, and lies unguarded 'gainst all harms
Or doubt or malice may produce.

Theod. 'Tis true:

And such a desperate cure I would have us’d,
If the intemperate patient had not been
So near me as a mother; but to her,
And from me, gentle unguents only were
To be applied: And as physicians,
When they are sick of fevers, eat themselves
Such viands as by their directions are
Forbid to others, tho' alike diseas'd;

So she, considering what she is, may challenge
Those cordials to restore her, by her birth
And privilege, which at no suit must be
Granted to others.

Mart. May your pious care

Effect but what it aim'd at! I am silent.

Enter DE VITRY.

Theod. What laugh'd you at, sir?
Vitry. I have some occasion,

I should not else; and the same cause perhaps
That makes me do so, may beget in you
A contrary effect.

Theod. Why, what's the matter?

Vitry. I see, and joy to see, that sometimes poor men

(And most of such are good) stand more indebted For means to breathe to such as are held vicious, Than those that wear, like hypocrites, on their

foreheads

Th' ambitious titles of just men and virtuous. Mart. Speak to the purpose!

Vitry. Who would e'er have thought The good old queen, your highness' reverend mother,

Into whose house (which was an academe,
In which all principles of lust were practis'd)
No soldier might presume to set his foot;
At whose most blessed intercession
All offices in the state were charitably
Conferr'd on panders, o'er-worn, chamber-wrest-
lers,

And such physicians as knew how to kill
With safety, under the pretence of saving,
And such-like children of a monstrous peace;
That she, I say, should at the length provide
That men of war, and honest younger brothers,
That would not owe their feeding to their cod-
piece,

Should be esteem'd of more than moths or drones,

Or idle vagabonds.

Theod. I am glad to hear it;

Prithee what course takes she to do this?
Vitry. One

That cannot fail: She and her virtuous train, Wi' her jewels, and all that was worthy the carrying,

The last night left the court; and, as 'tis more Then said, for 'tis confirm'd by such as met her, She's fled unto your brother.

Theod. How!

Vitry. Nay, storm not;

For if that wicked tongue of hers hath not
Forgot its pace, and Thierry be a prince

Of such a fiery temper as report

Has given him out for, you shall have cause to use
Such poor men as myself; and thank us too
For coming to you, and without petitions:
Pray Heav'n reward the good old woman for't!
Mart. I foresaw this.

Theod. I hear a tempest coming,

That sings mine and my kingdom's ruin. Haste,
And cause a troop of horse to fetch her back!
Yet stay! why should I use means to bring in
A plague, that of herself hath left me? Muster
Our soldiers up! we'll stand upon our guard;
For we shall be attempted. Yet forbear!
The inequality of our powers will yield me
Nothing but loss in their defeature: Something
Must be done, and done suddenly. Save your
labour!

In this I'll use no counsel but mine own:
That course, tho' dangerous, is best. Command
Our daughter be in readiness to attend us!
Martell, your company; and, honest Vitry,
Thou wilt along with me?

Vitry. Yes, any where;

To be worse than I'm here, is past my

fear. [Exeunt.

SCENE I.

ACT. II.

Enter THIERRY, BRUNHALT, BAWDBER,

and LECURE.

The fam'd night-labour of strong Hercules,
Yet is the master of a continence

That so can temper it, that I forbear

Their daughters, and their wives; whose hands, tho' strong,

Thi. You are here in a sanctuary; and that As yet have never drawn by unjust mean

viper

(Who, since he hath forgot to be a son,

Ì much disdain to think of as a brother)

Had better, in despite of all the gods,

Their proper wealth into my treasury!—
But I grow glorious-and let them beware
That, in their least repining at my pleasures,
They change not a mild prince (for, if provok'd,

To have raz'd their temples, and spurn'd down I dare and will be so) into a tyrant!

their altars,

Than, in his impious abuse of you,

To have call'd on my just anger.
Brun. Princely son,

And in this worthy of a nearer name,

I have, in the relation of my wrongs,

Been modest, and no word my tongue deliver'd
To express my insupportable injuries,
But gave my

heart a wound: Nor has my grief
Being from what I suffer; but that he,
Degenerate as he is, should be the actor
Of my extremes, and force me to divide
The fires of brotherly affection,
Which should make but one flame.

Thi. That part of his,

As it deserves, shall burn no more, if or
The tears of orphans, widows, or all such
As dare acknowledge him to be their lord,
Join'd to your wrongs, with his heart-blood have

power

To put it out: And you, and these your servants,
Who in our favours shall find cause to know,
In that they left not you, how dear we hold them,
Shall give Theodoret to understand
His ignorance of the prizeless jewel which
He did possess in you, mother, in you;
Of which I am more proud to be the owner,
Than if th' absolute rule of all the world
Were offer'd to this hand. Once more, you're
welcome!

Which with all ceremony due to greatness
I would make known, but that our just revenge
Admits not of delay. Your hand, lord-general!

Enter PROTALDYE, with Soldiers.
Brun. Your favour and his merit, I may say,
Have made him such; but I am jealous how
Your subjects will receive it.

Thi. How! my subjects?

What do you make of me? Oh, Heaven! my subjects?

How base should I esteem the name of prince,
If that poor dust were any thing before
The whirlwind of my absolute command!
Let 'em be happy, and rest so contented,
They pay the tribute of their hearts and knees
To such a prince, that not alone has power
To keep his own, but to encrease it; that,
Altho' he hath a body may add to

VOL. I.

Brun. You see there's hope that we shall rule again,

And your fall'n fortunes rise.

Baw. I hope your highness

Is pleas'd that I should still hold my place with

you;

For I have been so long us'd to provide you Fresh bits of flesh since mine grew stale, that surely,

If cashier'd now, I shall prove a bad caterer
In the fish-market of cold chastity.

Ler. For me, I am your own; nor, since I first Knew what it was to serve you, have remember'd I had a soul, but such an one whose essence Depended wholly on your highness' pleasure; And therefore, madam

Brun. Rest assur'd you are

Such instruments we must not lose.
Lec. Baw. Our service!

Thi. You've viewed them then? what's your
opinion of them?

In this dull time of peace, we have prepared 'em Apt for the war; ha?

Prot. Sir, they have limbs

That promise strength sufficient, and rich armours,
The soldier's best-lov'd wealth: More, it appears
They have been drill'd, nay, very prettily drill'd;
For many of them can discharge their musquets
Without the danger of throwing off their heads,
Or being offensive to the standers-by,

By sweating too much backwards: Nay, I find
They know the right and left-hand file, and may,
With some impulsion, no doubt be brought
To pass the A, B, C, of war, and come
Unto the horn-book.

Thi. Well, that care is yours;
And see that you effect it.

Prot. I am slow

To promise much; but if within ten days,
By precepts and examples, not drawn from
Worm-eaten precedents, of the Roman wars,
But from mine own, I make them not transcend
All that e'er yet bore arms, let it be said
Protaldye brags, which would be unto me
As hateful as to be esteem'd a coward!
For, sir, few captains know the way to win him,
And make the soldier valiant. You shall see me
Lie with them in their trenches, talk, and drink,
And be together drunk; and, what seems stranger,

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