Beaumont and Fletcher's Works. Volume 9. Beaumont Francis

      Guard. My Neece? she the rival of my abuse?

      My flesh and blood wrong me? I'll Aunt her for't;

      Oh opportunity, thou blessest me

      Now Gentlewoman are you parted so soon?

      Where's your friend I pray? your Cuningam?

      Mir. What say you Aunt?

      Guard. Come, come, your Cuningame?

      I am not blind with age yet, nor deaf.

      Mir. Dumb I am sure you are not, what ail you Aunt?

      Are you not well?

      Guard. No, nor sick, nor mad, nor in my wits, nor sleeping, nor waking, nor nothing, nor any thing; I know not what I am, nor what I am not.

      Mir. Mercy cover us, what do you mean, Aunt?

      Guard. I mean to be reveng'd.

      Mir. On whom?

      Guard. On thee Baggage.

      Mir. Revenge should follow injury,

      Which never reacht so far as thought in me

      Towards you Aunt.

      Guard. Your cunning, minion,

      Nor your Cuningame; can either blind me,

      The gentle Beggar loves you.

      Mir. Beseech you,

      Let me stay your error, I begin to hear,

      And shake off my amazement; if you think

      That ever any passage treating love

      Hath been betwixt us yet commenc'd, any

      Silent eye-glance that might but sparkle fire,

      So much as Brother and Sister might meet with,

      The Lip-salute, so much as strangers might

      Take a farewel with, the commixed hands,

      Nay, but the least thought of the least of these;

      In troth you wrong your bosom, by that truth

      (Which I think yet you durst be bail for in me,

      If it were offer'd ye) I am as free

      As all this protestation.

      Guard. May I believe this?

      Mir. If ever you'll believe truth: why, I thought he had

      spoke love to you, and if his heart prompted his tongue, sure

      I did hear so much.

      Guard. Oh falsest man, Ixion's plague fell on me,

      Never by woman (such a masculine cloud)

      So airy and so subtle was embrac'd.

      Mir. By no cause in me, by my life dear Aunt.

      Guard. I believe you, then help in my revenge,

      And you shall do't, or lose my love for ever,

      I'll have him quitted at his equal weapon,

      Thou art young, follow him, bait his desires

      With all the Engines of a womans wit,

      Stretch modesty even to the highest pitch;

      He cannot freeze at such a flaming beauty;

      And when thou hast him by th' amorous gills,

      Think on my vengeance, choak up his desires,

      Then let his banquetings be Tantalisme,

      Let thy disdain spurn the dissembler out;

      Oh I should climb my Stars, and sit above,

      To see him burn to ashes in his love.

      Mir. This will be a strange taste, Aunt, and an

      Unwilling labour, yet in your injunction

      I am a servant to't.

      Guard. Thou'lt undertak't?

      Mir. Yes, let the success commend it self hereafter.

      Guard. Effect it Girl, my substance is thy store,

      Nothing but want of Will makes woman poor.

      Sir Greg. Why Pompey, thou art not stark mad, art thou? Wilt thou not tell me how my Lady does?

      Clow. Your Lady?

      Sir Greg. Did she receive the thing that I sent her kindly, or no:

      Clow. The thing that you sent her, Knight, by the thing that you sent, was for the things sake that was sent to carry the thing that you sent, very kindly receiv'd; first, there is your Indenture, now go seek you a servant: secondly, you are a Knight: thirdly and lastly, I am mine own man: and fourthly, fare you well.

      Sir Greg. Why Pompey? prethee let me speak with thee, I'll lay my life some hare has crost him.

      Clow. Knight, if you be a Knight, so keep you; as for the Lady, who shall say that she is not a fair Lady, a sweet Lady, an honest and a virtuous Lady, I will say he is a base fellow, a blab of his tongue, and I will make him eat these fingers ends.

      Sir Greg. Why, here's no body says so Pompey.

      Clow. Whatsoever things have past between the Lady and the other party, whom I will not name at this time, I say she is virtuous and honest, and I will maintain it, as long as I can maintain my self with bread and water.

      Sir Greg. Why I know no body thinks otherwise.

      Clow. Any man that does but think it in my hearing, I will make him think on't while he has a thought in his bosom; shall we say that kindnesses from Ladies are common? or that favours and protestations are things of no moment betwixt parties and parties? I say still, whatsoever has been betwixt the Lady and the party, which I will not name, that she is honest, and shall be honest, whatsoever she does by day or by night, by light or by darkness, with cut and long tail.

      Sir Greg. Why I say she is honest.

      Clow. Is she honest? in what sense do you say she is honest, Knight?

       Sir Greg. If I could not find in my heart to throw my dagger at thy head, hilts and all, I'm an ass, and no Gentleman.

      Clow. Throw your Dagger at me! do not Knight, I give you fair warning, 'tis but cast away if you do, for you shall have no other words of me, the Lady is an honest Lady, whatsoever reports may go of sports and toys, and thoughts, and words, and deeds, betwixt her and the party which I will not name; this I give you to understand, That another man may have as good an eye, as amorous a nose, as fair a stampt beard, and be as proper a man as a Knight, (I name no parties) a Servingman may be as good as a Sir, a Pompey as a Gregory, a Doodle as a Fop; so Servingman Pompey Doodle, may be respected as well with Ladies (though I name no parties) as Sir Gregory Fop; so farewell:

      Sir Greg. If the fellow be not out of