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Stew. That never walks without a lady's busk, Aret. What news abroad? You hold precious And plays with fans:-Mr. Alexander Kickshaw. intelligence. I thought I should remember him.

Lit. Alltonguesare so much busy with your praise, Aret. What's the other ?

They have not time to frame other discourse. Stew. What an unlucky memory I have Wilt please you, madam, taste a sugar-plum? The gallant that still danceth in the street,

Born. What does the goldsmith think the pearl And wears a gross of ribbon in his hat;

is worth That carries oringado in his pocket,

You borrowd of my lady? And sugar-plums to sweeten his discourse;

Kick. "Tis a rich one. That studies compliment, defies all wit

Born. She has many othertoys, whose fashion you On black, and censures plays that are not bawdy Will like extremely. You have no intention Mr. John Littleworth.

To buy any of her jewels ? Aret. They are welcome ; but

Kick. Understand me. Pray entertain them a small time, lest I

Born. You had rather sell perhaps ? But leaving Be unprovided.

I hope you'll dine with us?

(this, Born. Did they ask for me?

Kick. I came on purpose. Stew. No, sir.

Aret. And where were you last night ? Born. It matters not, they must be welcome. Kick. I, madam ? where

Aret. Fie, how this hair's disorder'd; here'sa curl I slept not : it had been sin, where so much
Straddles most impiously. I must to my closet. Delight and beauty was to keep me waiting.

(Erit. There is a lady, madam, will be worth
Born. Wait on them ; my lady will return again. Your free society; my conversation
I have to such a height fulfill’d her humour, Ne'er knew so elegant and brave a soul,
All application's dangerous ; these gallants With most incomparable flesh and blood :
Must be received, or she will fall into

So spirited, so courtly, speaks the languages, A tempest, and the house be shook with names Sings, dances, plays o’the lute to admiration; Of all her kindred. "Tis a servitude

Is fair, and paints not ; games too, keeps a table, I may in time shake off.

And talks most witty satire ; has a wit

Of a clean Mercury. Enter MR. ALEXANDER KICKSHAW and LITTLEWORTH. Lit. Is she married ? Kick. and Lit. Save you, Sir Thomas.

Kick. No. Born. Save you, gentlemen.

dret. A virgin ? Kick. I kiss your hand.

Kick. Neither.
Born. What day is it abroad!

Lit. What, a widow? Something
Lit. The morning rises from your lady's eye ; Of this wide commendation might have been
If she look clear, we take the happy omen

Excused this such a prodigy.
Of a fair day.

Kick. Repent, Born. She'll instantly appear

Before I name her. She did never see To the discredit of your compliment ;

Yet full sixteen ; an age in the opinion But you express your wit thus.

Of wise men not contemptible. She has Kick. And you modesty,

Mourn'd out her year too for the honest knight Not to affect the praises of your own,

That had compassion of her youth and died Born. Leaving this subject, what game's now So timely. Such a widow is not common ; What exercise carries the general vote [afoot ? And now she shines [abroad] more fresh and O'the town now! Nothing moves without your Than any natural virgin.

[tempting knowledge.

Aret. What's her name? Kick. The cocking now has all the noise. I'll have Kick. She was christend Celestina; by her husA hundred pieces of one battle. Oh,

band These birds of Mars !

The lady Belamour. This ring was hers. Lit. Venus is Mars his bird too.

Born. You borrow'd it to copy out the posy? Kick. Why, and the pretty doves are Venuses,

Kick. Are they not pretty rubies! 'Twas a grace To show that kisses draw the chariot.

She was pleased to show me, that I might have one Lit. I'm for that skirmish.

Made of the (self) same fashion, for I love Born. When shall we have

All pretty forms. More booths and bagpipes upon Bansted downs ?

Aret. And is she glorious ? No mighty race is expected? But my lady returns.

Kick. She is full of jewels, madam ; but I am

Most taken with the bravery of her mind,

Although her garments have allgraceand ornament. Aret. Fair morning to you, gentlemen ;

Aret. You have been high in praises. You went not late to bed, by your early visit.

Kick. I come short ; You do me honour.

No flattery can reach her. Kick. It becomes our service.

Born. Now my lady

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Is troubled, as she fear’d to be eclipsed.

The gout in your worship’s hand? You are afraid This news will cost me somewhat.

(Aside. To infect my nostrils thus, or is 't to favour Aret. You deserve

To exercise your pen in your account-book,
Her favour for this noble character.

Or do you doubt my credit to discharge
Kick. And I possess it, by my star's benevolence. Your bills?
Aret. You must bring us acquainted.

Stew. Madam, I hope you have not found
Born. I pray do, sir;

My duty with the guilt of sloth or jealousy I long to see her too. Madam, I have

Unapt to your command.
Thought upon’t, and corrected my opinion;

Cel. You can extenuate
Pursue what ways of pleasure your desires Your faults with language, sir ; but I expect
Incline you to. Not only with my state,

To be obey'd. What hangings have we here?
But with my person I will follow you :

Stew. They are arras, madam. I see the folly of my thrift, and will

Cel. Impudence, I know't. Repent in sack and prodigality

I will have fresher and more rich, not wrought To your own heart's content.

With faces that may scandalise a Christian, Aret. But do not mock.

With Jewish stories, stuff’d with corn and camels : Born. Take me to your embraces, gentlemen, You had best wrap all my chambers in wild Irish, And tutor me.

And make a nursery of monsters here, Lit. And will you kiss the ladies ? [beauty- To fright the ladies come to visit me.

Born. And sing, and dance.-I long to see this Stew. Madam, I hope--
I would fain lose an hundred pounds at dice now — Cel. I say I will have other,
Thou shalt have another gown and petticoat Good master steward, of a finer loom,
To-morrow—Will you sell my running horses ? Some silk and silver, if your worship please
We bave no Greek wine in the house, I think; To let me be at so much cost : I'll have
Pray send one of our footmen to the merchant, Stories to fit the seasons of the year,
And throw the hogshead of March beer into And change as often as I please.
The kennel, to make room for sack and claret. Stew. You shall, madam.
What think you to be drunk yet before dinner? Cel. I am bound to your consent forsooth! Andis
We will have constant music, and maintain My coach brought home?
Them and their fiddles in fantastic liveries Stew. This morning I expect it.
I'll tune my voice to catches—I must have

Cel. The inside, as I gave direction,
My dining-room enlarged t invite ambassadors Of crimson plush ?
We'll feast the parish in the fields, and teach Stew. Of crimson camel plush.
The military men new discipline,

Cel. Ten thousand moths consume't! Shall I ride Who shall charge all their [great] artillery

through With oranges and lemons, boy, to play

The streets in penance, wrapt up round in hairAll dinner upon our capons.

cloth ? Kick. He's exalted.

Sell 't to an alderman,-'twill serve his wife Born. I will do anything to please my lady, To go a feasting to their country house,Let that suffice, and kiss o' the same condition. Or fetch a merchant's nurse-child, and come home I am converted, do not you dispute,

Laden with fruit and cheesecakes. I despise it. But patiently allow the miracle.

Stew. The nails adorn it, madam, set in method Aret. I am glad to hear you sit in so good tune. And pretty forms. Enter Servant.

Cel. But single-gilt, I warrant ? Serv. Madam, the painter.

Stew. No, madam. Aret. I am to sit this morning.

Cel. Another solecism. O fie! Kick. With your favour we'll wait on you ;

This fellow will bring me to a consumption A melancholy exercise without [sitting 's but

With fretting at his ignorance. Some lady Some company to discourse.

Had rather never pray than go to church in 't. Aret. It does conclude

The nails not double-gilt !-to market with it! A lady's morning work ; we rise, make fine,

'Twill hackney out to Mile End, or convey Sit for our picture, and 'tis time to dine.

Your city tumblers to be drunk with cream

Stew. Good madam, hear me.

Cel. I'll rather be beholding to my aunt,

The countess, for her mourning coach, than be
Disparaged so.

Shall any juggling tradesman

Be at charge to shoe his running horse with gold, Enter CELESTINA and her Steward.

And shall my coach-nails be but single-gilt ?
Cel. Fie, what an air this room has !

How dare these knaves abuse me so !
Stew. 'Tis perfumed.

[thrift Stew. Vouchsafe
Cel. With some cheap stuff: is it your wisdom's To hear me speak.

And prunes at



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Cel. Is my sedan yet finish'd
As I gave charge?

Stew. Yes, madam, it is finish'd,
But without tilting plumes at the four corners ;

The scarlet's pure, but not embroider'd.

Cel. What mischief were it to your conscience
Were my coach lined with tissue, and my harness

Stew. Mr. Frederick, welcome. I expected no
Cover'd with needlework ? if my sedan

So soon your presence. What's the hasty cause Had all the story of the prodigal

Fred. These letters from my tutor will acquair Embroider'd with pearl ?

Where's my aunt ? [you
Stew. Alas, good madam,

Stew. She's busy about her painting in her closet
I know 'tis your own cost ; I'm but your steward, The outlandish man of art is copying out
And would discharge my duty the best way.

Her countenance.
You bave been pleased to hear me, 'tis not for

Fred. She’s sitting for her picture ?
My profit that I manage your estate

Stew. Yes, sir ; and when 'tis drawn, she wil
And save expense, but for your honour, madam.

be hang'd Cel. How, sir, my honour ?

Next the French cardinal in the dining-room.
Stew. Though you hear it not,

But when she hears you're come, she will dismiss
Men's tongues are liberal in your character The Belgic gentleman to entertain
Since you began to live thus high. I know

Your worship.
Your fame is precious to you.

Fred. Change of air has made you witty.
Cel. I were best

Born. Your tutorgives you a handsome character
Make you my governor ! Audacious varlet, Frederick, and is sorry your aunt's pleasure
How dare you interpose your doting counsel ? Commands you from your studies ; but I hope
Mind your affairs with more obedience,

You have no quarrel to the liberal arts ?
Or I shall ease you of an office, sir.

Learning is an addition beyond
Must I be limited to please your honour,

Nobility of birth ; honour of blood,
Or for the vulgar breath confine my pleasures ?

Without the ornament of knowledge, is
I will pursue 'em in what shapes I fancy

A glorious ignorance.
Here and abroad. My entertainments shall

Fred. I never knew more sweet and happy hours
Be oft'ner, and more rich. Who shall control me? Than I employ'd upon my books. I heard
I live i’the Strand, whither few ladies come

A part of my philosophy, and was so
To live and purchase more than fame—I will Delighted with the harmony of nature
Be hospitable then, and spare no cost

I could have wasted my whole life upon ’t.
That may engage all generous report

Born. 'Tis pity a rash indulgence should corrupt
To trumpet forth my bounty and my bravery

So fair a genius. She's here;-I'll observe.
Till the court envy and remove-l'll have

My house the academy of wits, who shall,

Fred. My most loved aunt.
Exalt (their genius) with rich sack and sturgeon, Aret. Support me,- I shall faint !
Write panegyrics of my feasts, and praise

Lit. What ails your ladyship?
The method of my witty superfluities-

Aret. Is that Frederick
The horses shall be taught, with frequent waiting In black ?
Upon my gates, to stop in their career [fury; Kick. Yes, madam ; but the doublet 's satin.
Toward Charing Cross, spite of the coachman's Aret. The boy 's undone.
And not a tilter but shall strike his plume

Fred. Madam, you appear troubled.
When he sails by my window— My balcony Aret. Have I not cause ? Was I not trusted with
Shall be the courtiers' idol, and more gazed at Thy education, boy, and have they sent thee
Than all the pageantry at Temple Bar

Home like a very scholar ?
By country clients.

Kick. 'Twas ill done,
Stew. Sure my lady 's mad.

Howe'er they used him in the university,
Cel. Take that for your ill manners. (Strikes him. To send him home to his friends thus.
Stew. Thank you, madam :

Fred. Why, sir, black
I would there were less quicksilver in your fingers. (For 'tis the colour that offends your eyesight)

[Exit. Is not, within my reading, any blemish;
Cel. There's more than simple honesty in a Sables are no disgrace in heraldry.

Required to his full duty. None should dare

Kick. 'Tis coming from the college thus that
But with a look, much less a saucy language,

Dishonourable. While you wore it for [makes it

Your father it was commendable, or were
Check at their mistress's pleasure. I'm resolved
To pay for some delight, my estate will bear it;

Your aunt dead you might mourn and justify.

Aret. What luck * I did not send him into
I'll rein it shorter when I please.

France !
* Luck evidently means misfortune here.

They would have given him generous education,
Taught him another garb, to wear his lock
And shape as gaudy as the summer, how
To dance and wag his feather à lamode,
To compliment and cringe, to talk not modestly,
Like ay forsooth and no forsooth, to blush
And look so like a chaplain ; there he might
Have learnt a brazen confidence, and observed
So well the custom of the country, that
He might by this time have invented fashions
For us, and been a benefit to the kingdom ;
Preserved our tailors in their wits, and saved
The charge of sending into foreign courts
For pride and antic fashions. Observe
In what a posture he does hold his hat now!
Fred. Madam, with your pardon, you have

Another dialect than was taught me when
I was commended to your care and breeding.
I understand not this ; Latin or Greek
Are more familiar to my apprehension ;
Logic was not so hard in my first lectures
As your strange language.

Aret. Some strong waters,-oh!
Lit. Comfits will be as comfortable to your
stomach, madam.

[Offers his bo.r. Aret. I fear he's spoil'd for ever: he did name Logic, and may, for ought I know, be gone So far to understand it. I did always Suspect they would corrupt him in the college. Will

your Greek saws and sentences discharge
The mercer ? or is Latin a fit language
To court a mistress in? Master Alexander,
If you have

any charity, let me
Commend him to your breeding ; I suspect
I must employ my doctor first to purge
The university that lies in's head
To alter's complexion.

Kick. If you dare
Trust me to serve him

Aret. Mr. Littleworth,
Be you join'd in commission.

Lit. I will teach him
Postures and rudiments.

Aret. I have no patience To see him in this shape, it turns my stomach. When he has cast liis academic skin, He shall be yours. I am bound in conscience To see him bred, his own 'state shall maintain The charge while he's my ward. Come hither, sir.

Fred. What does my aunt mean to do with me? Stew. To make you a fine gentleman, and trans

Fred. Mr. Steward, are you sure we do not dream? Was't not my aunt you talk'd to ?

Slew. One that loves you Dear as her life. These clothes do not become you; You must have better, sir. Fred. These are not old.

[keep Stew. More suitable to the town and time. We No Lent here, nor is't my lady's pleasure you Should fast from anything you have a mind to, Unless it be yourlearning, which she would have you Forget with all convenient speed that may be For the credit of your noble family. The case is alter'd since we lived in the country ; We do not (now) invite the poor o'the parish To dinner, keep a table for the tenants ; Our kitchen does not smell of beef, the cellar Defies the price of malt and hops ; the footmen And coach-drivers may be drunk like gentlemen With wine ; nor will three fiddlers upon holidays, With aid of bagpipes, that call'd in the country To dance and plough the hall up with their hobnails, Now make my lady merry; we do feed Like princes, and feast nothing (else) but princes, And are those robes fit to be seen amongst 'em ?

Fred. My lady keeps a court then? Is Sir Thomas Affected with this state and cost ?

Stew. He was not, But is converted. But I hope you will not Persist in heresy, but take a course Of riot to content your friends; you shall Want nothing. If you can be proud and spend it For my lady's honour, here are a hundred Pieces will serve you till you have new clothes ; I will present you with a nag of mine, Poor tender of my service-please to accept, My lady's smile more than rewards me for it. I must provide fit servants to attend you, Monsieurs for horse and foot.

Fred. I shall submit, If this be my aunt's pleasure, and be ruled, My eyes are open'd with this purse already, And sack will help to inspire ine. I must spend it.


The Queen insulting the Wife and Father of the accused

Admiral in their misfortunes.

late you

Out of your learned language, sir, into
The present Goth and Vandal, which is French.

Born. Into what mischief will this humour ebb?
She will undo the boy; I see him ruin'd.
My patience is not manly, but I must
Use stratagem to reduce her, open ways
Give me no hope.
Stew. You shall be obey'd, madam.

[Exeunt all but FREDERICK and the STEWARD.

Persons. The Constable of France, Queen, Wife and

Father of CHABOT. Constable introducing the Wife of CHABOT. Cons. She attends you, madam. Queen. This humbleness proceeds not from your

heart; Why, you are a queen yourself in your own

thoughts ; The admiral's wife of France cannot be less; You have not state enough, you should not move Without a train of friends and servants.

[* As Chapman had certainly the larger share in this Tragedy, the specimen should have been placed by Mr. Campbell under Chapman. Gifford at first thought Chabot' was scarce admissible in a collection of Shirley's Works.]

Wife. There is some mystery

You are my queen, unto that title bows Within your language, madam. I would hope The humblest knee in France, my heart made lower You have more charity than to imagine

With my obedience and prostrate duty, My present condition worth your triumph, Nor have I powers created for my use In which I am not so lost but I have

When just commands of you expect their service; Some friends and servants with proportion But were you queen of all the world, or something To my lord's fortune ; but none within the lists To be thought greater, betwixt Heaven and us, Of those that obey me can be more ready

That I could reach you with my eyes and voice, To express their duties, than my heart to serve I would shoot both up in defence of my Your just commands.

Abused honour, and stand all your lightning. Queen. Then pride will ebb, I see ;

Queen. So brave?
There is no constant flood of state and greatness ; Wife. So just and boldly innocent.
The prodigy is ceasing when your lord

I cannot fear, arin'd with a noble conscience,
Comes to the balance ; he, whose blazing fires The tempest of your frown, were it more frightful
Shot wonders through the kingdom, will discover Than every fury made a woman's anger,
What flying and corrupted matter fed him. Prepared to kill with death's most horrid ceremony;
Wife. My lord ?

Yet with what freedom of my soul I can
Queen. Your high and mighty justicer, Forgive your accusation of my pride.
The man of conscience, the oracle

Queen. Forgive? What insolence is like this lanOf state, whose honourable titles

Can any action of ours be capable [guage? Would crack an elephant's back, is now turn'd Of thy forgiveness ? Dust ! how I despise thee! Must pass examination and the test (mortal ; Can we sin to be object of thy mercy ? Of law, have all his offices ripp'd up,

Wife. Yes,and have done 't already, and no stain And his corrupt soul laid open to the subjects; To your greatness, madam ; 'tis my charity, His bribes, oppressions, and close sins, that made I can remit ; when sovereign princes dare So many groan and curse him, now shall find Do injury to those that live beneath them, Their just reward ; and all that love their country They turn worth pity and their prayers, and ’tis Bless Heaven and the king's justice, for removing In the free power of those whom they oppress Such a devouring monster.

To pardon 'em ; each soul has a prerogative Father. Sir, your pardon.

And privilege royal that was sign'a by Heaven. Madam, you are the queen, she is my daughter, But though, in th' knowledge of my disposition, And he that you have character'd so monstrous Stranger to pride, and what you charge me with, My son-in-law, now gone to be arraign’d.

I can forgive the injustice done to me, The king is just, and a good man ; but 't does not And striking at my person, I have no Add to the graces of your royal person

Commission from my lord to clear you for To tread upon a lady thus dejected

The wrongs you have done him, and till he pardon By her own grief: her lord 's not yet found guilty, The wounding of his loyalty, with which life Much less condemn’d, though you have pleased to

Can hold no balance, I must talk just boldness Queen. What saucy fellow's this? [execute him. To say, Father. I must confess

Father. Nomore! Now I must tell you, daughter, I am a man out of this element,

Lest you forget yourself, she is the queen, No courtier, yet I am a gentleman,

And it becomes you not to vie with her That dare speak honest truth to the queen's ear,

Passion for passion : if your lord stand fast (A duty every subject will not pay you,)

To the full search of law, Heaven will revenge him, And justify it to all the world ; there's nothing

And give him up precious to good men's loves. Doth more eclipse the honours of our soul

If you attempt by these unruly ways Than an ill-grounded and ill-follow'd passion,

To vindicate his justice, I'm against you ; Let fly with noise and license against those

Dear as I wish your husband's life and fame, Whose hearts before are bleeding.

Subjects are bound to suffer, not contest Cons. Brave old man !

[a woman

With princes, since their will and acts must be Father. 'Cause you are a queen, to trample o'er

Accounted one day to a Judge supreme. Whose tongue and faculties are all tied up ;

Wife. I ha' done. If the devotion to my lord, Strike out a lion's teeth, and pare his claws,

Or pity to his innocence, have led me And then a dwarf may pluck him by the beard— Beyond the awful limits to be observed 'Tis a gay victory.

By one so much beneath your sacred person, Queen. Did you hear, my lord ?

I thus low crave your royal pardon, madam; (Kneels. Father. I ha' done.

I know you will remember, in your goodness, Wife. And it concerns me to begin.

My life-blood is concern'd while his least vein I have not made this pause through servile fear,

Shall run black and polluted, my heart fed Or guilty apprehension of your rage,

With what keeps him alive ; nor can there be But with just wonder of the heats and wildness

A greater wound than that which strikes the life Has prepossess'd your nature'gainst our innocence.

Of our good name, so much above the bleeding

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