This from my now-dead brother, as his love,
And grateful memory of your great benefit;
From me my thanks, my wishes, and my service.
Till I am more acquainted, I am silent;
Only I dare say this, you are truly noble.
Mir. What should I think?

Pinac. Think you've a handsome fortune: 'Would I had such another!

Ros. Ye are well met, gentlemen ;

We hear ye are for travel?

Pinac. You hear true, lady;

And come to take our leaves.

Lil. We'll along with ye:

We see you're grown so witty by your journey, We cannot chuse but step out too. This lady We mean to wait upon as far as Italy.

Bel. I'll travel into Wales, amongst the moun

Ros. No danger, sir, I warrant; I love to be under.

Bel. I see she will abuse me all the world

over!_

But say we pass through Germany, and drink hard?

Ros. We'll learn to drink and swagger too.

Bel. She'll beat me!Lady, I'll live at home.

Ros. And I'll live with thee; And we'll keep house together. Bel. I'll keep hounds first: And those I hate right heartily. Pinac. I go for Turkey!

And so it may be up into Persia.

Lil. We cannot know too much; I'll trave! with

you.

Pinac. And you'll abuse me?

Lil. Like enough.

Pinac. 'Tis dainty !

Bel. I will live in a bawdy-house.

Ros. I dare come to you.

Bel. Say I'm disposed to hang myself?
Ros. There I'll leave you.

Bel. I am glad I know how to avoid you.-
Mir. May I speak yet?

Fac. She beckons to you.

Mir. Lady, I could wish I knew to recompense, Even with the service of my life, those pains, And those high favours you have thrown upon

SCENE I.

Fred. I would tell thee,

But 'tis a thing thou canst not like.
Sor. Pray you speak it:

Is it my head? I have it ready for you, sir:
Is't
any action in my power? my wit?

I care not of what nature, nor what follows.
Fred. I am in love.

Sor. That's the least thing of a thousand,
The easiest to achieve.

Fred. But with whom, Sorano?

Sor. With whom you please, you must not be
denied, sir.

Fred. Say, it be with one of thy kinswomen?
Sor. Say, with all;

I shall more love your grace, I shall more honour you;

And 'would I had enough to serve your pleasure! Fred. Why, 'tis thy sister then, the fair Evanthe; I'll be plain with thee.

Sor. I'll be as plain with you, sir;

She brought not her perfections to the world,
To lock them in a case, or hang 'em by her;
The use is all she breeds 'em for: she's yours, sir.
Fred. Dost thou mean seriously?

Sor. I mean my sister;

And if I had a dozen more, they were all yours. Some aunts I have, they have been handsome

And either lose myself, or win her favour.

Sor. She is coming in.

Nor have no private business through these

chambers,

To seek him this way. O' my life, thou'rt drunk,
Or worse than drunk, hired to convey me hither
To some base end! Now I look on thee better,
Thou hast a bawdy face, and I abhor thee.
A beastly bawdy face! I'll go no further.

Sor. Nay, shrink not back; indeed you shall, good sister.

Why do you blush? the good king will not hurt [you; He honours you, and loves you.

Evan. Is this the business?

Sor. Yes, and the best you ever will arrive at, If you be wise.

Evan. My father was no bawd, sir,

Nor of that worshipful stock, as I remember.
Sor. You are a fool!

Evan. You are that I shame to tell you!
Fred. Gentle Evanthe!

Evan. The gracious queen, sir,

Is well and merry, Heaven be thanked for it;
And, as think, she waits you in the garden.
Fred. Let her wait there; I talk not of her
[garden;
I talk of thee, sweet flower.

Evan. Your grace is pleasant,
To mistake a nettle for a rose.

Fred. No rose,

Nor lily, nor no glorious hyacinth,

Are of that sweetness, whiteness, tenderness,
Softness, and satisfying blessedness,
As my Evanthe.

Evan. Your grace speaks very feelingly :
I would not be a handsome wench in your way, sir,
For a new gown.

Fred. Thou art all handsomeness;

Nature will be ashamed to frame another

Now thou art made; thou hast robb'd her of her

cunning:

Each several part about thee is a beauty.

Sor. Do you hear this, sister?

Evan. Yes, unworthy brother!

But all this will not do.

Fred. But love, Evanthe,

Thou shalt have more than words; wealth, ease, My tender wench.

Evan. Be tender of my credit,

[and honours,

And I shall love you, sir, and I shall honour you. Fred. I love thee to enjoy thee, my Evanthe,

To give thee the content of love.

Evan. Hold, hold, sir,

You are too fleet: I have some business this way, Your grace can ne'er content.

Sor. You stubborn toy!

Evan. Good my lord bawd, I thank you! Fred. Thou shalt not go.

Evanthe,

Believe me, sweet

So high I will advance thee for this favour,
So rich and potent I will raise thy fortune,
And thy friends mighty.

Evan. Good your grace, be patient;

I shall make the worst honourable wench that ever was,

Shame your discretion, and your choice.

Fred. Thou shalt not.

Evan. Shall I be rich, do you say, and glorious, And shine above the rest, and scorn all beauties, And mighty in command?

Fred. Thou shalt be any thing.

Evan. Let me be honest too, and then I'll thank you.

Have you not such a title to bestow too?
If I prove otherwise, I would know but this, sir;
Can all the power you have, or all the riches,
But tie men's tongues up from discoursing of me,
Their eyes from gazing at my glorious folly,
Time that shall come, from wond'ring at my
impudence,

And they that read my wanton life, from curses?
Can you do this? have you this magic in you?
This is not in your power, though you be a prince,
No more than evil is in holy angels,
Nor I, I hope. Get wantonness confirm'd

[sir,

Fred. I'll be divorced from her.

Evan. Can you tell why? What has she done against you?

Has she contrived a treason 'gainst your person?
Abused your bed? Does disobedience urge you?
Fred. That's all one; 'tis my will.
Evan. 'Tis a most wicked one,

A most absurd one, and will shew a monster!
I had rather be a whore, and with less sin,

To your present lust, than queen to your injustice.
Yours is no love, Faith and Religion fly it,
Nor has no taste of fair affection in it.
Some hellish flame abuses your fair body,
And hellish furies blow it. Look behind you:
Divorce you from a woman of her beauty,
Of her integrity, her piety,

Her love to you, to all that honours you,

Her chaste and virtuous love? are these fit causes?
What will you do to me, when I have cloy'd you?
You may find time out in eternity,
Deceit and violence in heavenly justice,
Life in the grave, and death among the blessed,
Ere stain or brack in her sweet reputation.

Sor. You have fool'd enough; be wise now, and a woman!

You have shew'd a modesty sufficient,

If not too much, for court.

Evan. You have shew'd an impudence

A more experienced bawd would blush and shake You will make my kindred mighty?

Fred. Pr'ythee hear me !

[at!

Evan. 1 do, sir, and I count it a great offer.
Fred. Any of thine.

Evan. 'Tis like enough you may clap honour on them,

But how 'twill sit, and how men will adore it,
Is still the question. I'll tell you what they'll
say, sir,

What the report will be, and 'twill be true too;
(And it must needs be comfort to your master!)
"These are the issues of her impudence."
I'll tell your grace, so dear I hoid the queen,
So dear that honour that she nursed me up in,
I would first take to me, for my iust, a Moor,
One of your galley-slaves, that cold and hunger,
Decrepid misery, had made a mock-man,
Than be your queen!

Fred. You are bravely resolute.

Evan. I had rather be a leper, and be shunn'd, And die by pieces, rot into my grave, Leaving no memory behind to know me, Than be a high whore to eternity!

Does the king offer fair? does thy face take him?
Ne'er blush, Evanthe, 'tis a very sweet one.
Does he rain gold, and precious promises,
Into thy lap? will he advance thy fortunes?
Shalt thou be mighty, wench?

Evan. Never mock, madam;
'Tis rather on your part to be lamented,
At least revenged. I can be mighty, lady.
And glorious too, glorious and great as you are.
Mar. He'll marry thee?

Evan. Who would not be a queen, madam? Mar. 'Tis true, Evanthe, 'tis a brave ambition, A golden dream, that may delude a good mind. What shall become of me?

It was and is to do you faithful duties.
'Tis true I have been tempted by the king,
And with no few and potent charms, to wrong ye,
To violate the chaste joys of your bed;
And, those not taking hold, to usurp your state :
But she that has been bred up under ye,
And daily fed upon your virtuous precepts,
Still growing strong by example of your goodness,
Having no errant motion from obedience,
Flies from these vanities, as mere illusions,
And, arm'd with honesty, defies all promises!
In token of this truth, I lay my life down
Under your sacred foot, to do you service.

Mar. Rise, my true friend, thou virtuous bud of beauty!

Thou virgins' honour, sweetly blow and flourish! And that rude nipping wind that seeks to blast

thee,