Should be avoided than infectious air, A prisoner for it. Load me with those irons And chuse my dwelling where no sun dares enter, So he may be released. 1 Cred. What mean you, sir? Your favours should be lost. Besides, it has been 2 Advo. Only your fee again: There's so much One boon that parted with it. And, to confirm said Already in this cause, and said so well, That, should I only offer to speak in it, I should not be heard, or laughed at for it. 1 Cred. 'Tis the first money advocate e'er gave back, 'Though he said nothing. Roch. Be advised, young lord, And well considerate; you throw away That is not sensible of it, with which a wise man From these men's malice, and break ope the prison, Nov. sen. Let him alone: Your grace towards me, against all such as may Detract my actions and life hereafter, I now prefer it to you. Du Croy. Speak it freely. Roch. I then desire the liberty of Romont, And that my lord Novall, whose private wrong Was equal to the injury that was done To the dignity of the court, will pardon it, Nov. sen. Pray you demand The moiety of my estate, or any thing Roch. Am I denied then-my first and last re- Du Croy. It must not be. 2 Pre. I have a voice to give in it. 3 Pre. And I. If he love cords, a God's name, let him wear them, And, if persuasion will not work him to it, Provided these consent. Char. I hope they are not So ignorant in any way of profit, As to neglect a possibility To get their own, by seeking it from that 3 Cred. What think you of the offer? 1 Cred. Accept it by all means: Let us shut him up; He is well shaped, and has a villainous tongue, Du Croy. What's your answer? 1 Cred. Why, let our executions, That lic upon the father, be returned Upon the son, and we release the body. Nov. sen. The court must grant you that. They have in it confirmed on me such glory, [Exit Charalois, Creditors, and Officers. We will make known our power. Nov sen. You are too violent; You shall have my consent. But would Made trial of my love in any thing But this, you should have found then-But it skills not. You have what you desire. Roch. I thank your lordships. Du Croy. The court is up-Make way. [Exeunt all but Rochfort and Beaumont. Roch. I follow you-Beaumont ! Beaum. My lord? Roch. You are a scholar, Beaumont, And can search deeper into the intents of men, Than those that are less knowing. How appeared The piety and brave behaviour of Young Charalois to you? Beaum. It is my wonder, Since I want language to express it fully; Roch. Fie! he was faulty.-What present money have I? Beaum. There is no want Of any sum a private man has use for. I am strangely taken with this Charalois; Prince-like, to will, not ask a courtesy. [Exeunt. SCENE I. АСТ II. Enter PONTALIER, MALOTIN and BEAUMONT, Malot. 'Tis strange. Pont. In a man but young, Yet old in judgment; theorick and practick, Beaum. Twenty-eight; For since the clock did strike him seventeen old, And men more barbarous to execute it, That he had rather die alive for debt Of the old man in prison, than they should Beaum. True! for my part, were it my father's trunk, The tyrannous ram-heads with their horns should gore it, Or cast it to their curs, than they less currish, And from this prison 'twas the son's request, [Recorders Music. See the young son enters alive the grave. Beaum. They come-Observe their order. Enter funeral. The body borne by four. Captains and soldiers, mourners, 'scutcheons, &c. in very good order. CHARALOIS and ROMONT meet it. Charalois speaks. Romont weeping. Solemn musick. Three creditors. Char. How like a silent stream shaded with And gliding softly with our windy sighs, Whose cruelty denied thee rest in death: I thank you for this last and friendly love; Char. Peace! O peace! This scene is wholly mine. What! Weep ye, soldiers?-Blanch not. Romont weeps. Ha! let me see! my miracle is eased: The jailors and the creditors do weep: E'en they, that make us weep, do weep themselves. Be these thy body's balm: These and thy virtue Whilst the great, proud, rich, undeserving man, 1 Cred. Sir! Char. What!--Away, for shame! your tears, prophane rogues! Must not be mingled with these holy relicks : Rom. Laugh ye? 2 Cred. Yes, faith, sir; we would be very glad To please you either way. 1 Cred. You are never content, Crying nor laughing. Rom. Both with a birth, ye rogues. 2 Cred. Our wives, sir, taught us. Rom. Look, look, you slaves! your thankless cruelty, And savage manners of unkind Dijon, Exhaust these floods, and not his father's death. 1 Cred. 'Slid, sir! what would you, you're so cholerick! 2 Cred. Most soldiers are so, in faith.-Let him alone. They've little else to live on; we have not had 3 Cred. 'Slight, would you have our hearts? For all our money. Priest. On. Char. One moment more, But to bestow a few poor legacies, All I have left in my dead father's right, And I have done. Captain, wear thou these spurs, That yet ne'er made his horse run from a foc. Wounded and hacked ye were, but never felled. My root is earthed, and I, a desolate branch, SONG. Fie! cease to wonder ! Though you hear Orpheus, with his ivory lute, Move trees and rocks, Charm bulls, bears, and men more savage,to be mute. Weak foolish singer, here is one Would have transformed thyself to stone. 1 Cred. No farther! look to them at your own peril. 2 Cred. No, as they please :-Their master's a good man. I would they were at the Bermudas. Jailor. You must no farther.— The prison limits you, and the creditors Rom: Out, you wolfish mongrels! Whose brains should be knocked out, like dogs in July, Lest your infection poison a whole town. Char. They grudge our sorrow.-Your ill wills, Nov. jun. No autumn nor no age ever ap This heavenly piece, which nature having wrought, Lilad. Uds-light, my lord, one of the purls of Is, without all discipline, fallen out of his rank. Nov. jun. How? I would not for a thousand crowns she had seen it. Dear Liladam, reform it. Bella. Oh lord! Per se, lord! Quintessence of honour! she walks not under a weed that could deny thee any thing. Beaumel. Prythee peace, wench! thou dost but blow the fire that flames too much already. [Liladam and Aymer trim Novall, whilst Bellapert her lady. Aymer. By gad, my lord, you have the divinest taylor in Christendom; he hath made you look like an angel in your cloth of tissue doublet. Pont. This is a three-legged lord: There is a fresh assault. Oh! that men should spend time thus!--See, see how her blood drives to her heart, and strait vaults to her cheeks again. Malot. What are these? Pont. One of them there, the lower, is a good, foolish, knavish, sociable gallimaufry of a man, and has much caught my lord with singing; he is master of a music house. The other is his dres sing block, upon whom my lord lays all his cloaths and fashions, ere he vouchsafes them his own person; you shall see him in the morning in the galley-foist, at noon in the bullion, in the evening in Querpo, and all night in Malot. A bawdy-house. Pont. If my lord deny, they deny; if he affirm, they affirm: They skip into my lord's cast skins some twice a year; and thus they live to eat, eat to live, and live to praise my lord. Malot. Good sir, tell me one thing. Pont. What's that? Malot. Dare these men ever fight on any cause? Pont. Oh, no, 'twould spoil their cloaths, and put their bands out of order. Nov. jun. Must you hear the news: Your father has resigned his presidentship to my lord my father. Malot. And lord Charalois undone for ever. Pont. Troth, 'tis pity, sir! braver hope of so assured a father Did never comfort France. Lilad. A good dumb mourner. Nov. jun. Oh, fie upon him, how he wears his cloaths! As if he had come this Christmas from St Omers, To see his friends, and returned after twelf-tide. Lilad. His colonel looks finely like a drover. Nov. jun. That had a winter lain perdue in the rain. Aymer. What, he that wears a clout about his neck? His cuffs in his pocket, and his heart in his mouth? Nov. jun. I thus recant; yet now your hand looks white, Because your lips robbed it of such a right. SONG. [Music. A dialogue between a man and a woman. Man. Set, Phabus! set; a fairer sun doth rise From the bright radiance of my mistress' eyes Than ever thou begat'st: I dare not look; Each hair a golden line, each word a hook, The more I strive, the more still I am took. Wom. Fair servant! come; the day these eyes do lend To warm thy blood, thou dost so vainly spend, Man. What note so sweet as this That calls the spirits to a further bliss? Wom. Yet this out-savours wine, and this perfume, Man. Let's die, I languish, I consume. After the song, enter ROCHFORT and BEAUMONT. Beaum. Romont will come, sir, straight. me leave; I have some private conference with my daughter; Pray use my garden, you shall dine with me. Lilad. We'll wait on you. Nov. jun. Good morn unto your lordship, Remember what you have vowed [To Beaumelle. [Exeunt all but Rochfort and Beaumelle. Beaumel. Perform I must. Roch. Why how now, Beaumelle, thou look st not well. Thou art sad of late,-coine cheer thee; I have found A wholesome remedy for these maiden fits, Fate hath wronged love, and will destroy me too. [Exit Beaumelle. Enter ROMONT and Keeper. Rom. Sent you for me, sir? Roch. Yes. And bears as rich caparaisons. I know Snuffs other's titles, lordships, offices, At whose great helm he sits. Helps he the poor As if, when nature made him, she had made I must weep when I think on't. Roch. Sir! He was immortal-though I vow I grieve, Roch. They do not. Of dying, sir, they do not, but all die, Roch. Sweet and gentle Nature! Roch. What? Char. Nothing, my lord. Roch. Nothing is quickly granted. That nothing granted is even all I have, Rom. My lord, I am not stubborn: I can melt, For all know I have nothing left to grant. you see, And prize a virtue better than my life: Roch. Oh! be temperate; Sir, though I would persuade, I'll not constrain; Be it right or wrong, 'tis at the judge's peril, Beaum. These men, sir, wait without; my lord is come too. Roch. Pay them those sums upon the table; take Their full releases :-Stay-I want a witness : The deed shall make this my request more plain. Rom. I shall obey your pleasure, sir, though ignorant To what it tends. [Exeunt Romont and Şervant. Enter CHARALOIS, Roch. Worthiest sir, You are most welcome: Fie, no more of this: You have out-wept a woman, noble Charalois ! No man but has or must bury a father. Char. Grave sir! I buried sorrow for his death In the grave with him. I did never think Roch. Sir, have you any suit to me? I'll grant You something, anything. Char. Nay, surely, I, that can Give nothing, will but sue for that again. I see in you, so much resembling his, Char. How ill, sir, it becomes those hairs to mock! Roch. Mock? thunder strike me then. But you shall wonder too; I will not take Enter ROMONT, BEAUMONT, and Creditors, Roch. Here is your friend, Enfranchised ere you spake. I give him you; And, Charalois, I give you to your friend, As free a man as he: Your father's debts Are taken off, |