Beaumont Fletchers Works, vol 2 | Page 6

pleasure, It must
and shall be done: give me some wine, And fill it till it leap upon my
lips: [wine Here's to the foolish maidenhead you wot of, The toy I must
take pains for.

Char. I beseech your Lordship Load not a Fathers love.
Clod. Pledge it Charino, Or by my life I'le make thee pledge thy last,
And be sure she be a maid, a perfect Virgin, (I will not have my
expectation dull'd) Or your old pate goes off. I am hot and fiery, And
my bloud beats alarms through my body, And fancie high. You of my
guard retire, And let me hear no noise about the lodging But musick
and sweet ayres, now fetch your Daughter, And bid the coy wench put
on all her beauties, All her enticements, out-blush damask Roses, And
dim the breaking East with her bright Crystals. I am all on fire, away.
Char. And I am frozen. [Exit.
Enter Zenocia _with Bow and Quiver, an Arrow bent_, Arnoldo and
Rutilio _after her, arm'd_.
Zen. Come fearless on.
Rut. Nay an I budge from thee Beat me with durty sticks.
Clod. What Masque is this? What pretty fancy to provoke me high?
The beauteous Huntress, fairer far, and sweeter; Diana shewes an
Ethiop to this beauty Protected by two Virgin Knights.
Rut. That's a lye, A loud one, if you knew as much as I do, The Guard's
dispers'd.
Arn. Fortune I hope invites us.
Clod. I can no longer hold, she pulls my heart from me.
Zen. Stand, and stand fixt, move not a foot, nor speak not, For if thou
doest, upon this point thy death sits. Thou miserable, base, and sordid
lecher, Thou scum of noble blood, repent and speedily, Repent thy
thousand thefts, from helpless Virgins, Their innocence betrayed to thy
embraces.
Arn. The base dishonour, that thou doest to strangers, In glorying to
abuse the Laws of Marriage, Thy Infamy thou hast flung upon thy

Country, In nourishing this black and barbarous Custom.
Clod. My Guard.
Arn. One word more, and thou diest.
Rut. One syllable That tends to any thing, but I beseech you, And as
y'are Gentlemen tender my case, And I'le thrust my Javeling down thy
throat. Thou Dog-whelp, thou, pox upon thee, what Should I call thee,
Pompion, Thou kiss my Lady? thou scour her Chamber-pot: Thou have
a Maiden-head? a mottly Coat, You great blind fool, farewel and be
hang'd to ye, Lose no time Lady.
Arn. Pray take your pleasure Sir, And so we'l take our leaves.
Zen. We are determined, Dye, before yield.
Arn. Honour, and a fair grave.
Zen. Before a lustful Bed, so for our fortunes.
Rut. Du cat awhee, good Count, cry, prethee cry, O what a wench hast
thou lost! cry you great booby. [Exe.
Enter Charino.
Clod. And is she gone then, am I dishonoured thus, Cozened and baffl'd?
my Guard there, no man answer? My Guard I say, sirrah you knew of
this plot; Where are my Guard? I'le have your life you villain, You
politick old Thief.
Char. Heaven send her far enough,
Enter Guard.
And let me pay the ransom.
Guard. Did your honour call us?

Clod. Post every way, and presently recover The two strange
Gentlemen, and the fair Lady.
Guard. This day was Married Sir?
Clod. The same.
Guard. We saw 'em. Making with all main speed to th' Port.
Clod. Away villains. [Exit Guard. Recover her, or I shall dye; deal truly,
Didst not thou know?
Char. By all that's good I did not. If your honour mean their flight, to
say I grieve for that, Will be to lye; you may handle me as you please.
Clod. Be sure, with all the cruelty, with all the rigor, For thou hast rob'd
me villain of a treasure.
Enter Guard.
How now?
Guard. They're all aboard, a Bark rode ready for 'em, And now are
under Sail, and past recovery.
Clod. Rig me a Ship with all the speed that may be, I will not lose her:
thou her most false Father, Shalt go along; and if I miss her, hear me, A
whole day will I study to destroy thee.
Char. I shall be joyful of it; and so you'l find me.
[Exeunt omnes.

_Actus Secundus. Scena Prima_.
Enter Manuel du Sosa, and Guiomar.
Man. I Hear and see too much of him, and that Compels me Madam,
though unwillingly, To wish I had no Uncles part in him, And much I

fear, the comfort of a Son You will not long enjoy.
Gui. 'Tis not my fault, And therefore from his guilt my innocence
Cannot be tainted, since his Fathers death, (Peace to his soul) a Mothers
prayers and care Were never wanting, in his education. His Child-hood
I