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ID	Title	Author	Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication)	STC	Words	Pages
A27177	Comedies and tragedies written by Francis Beaumont and Iohn Fletcher ...	Beaumont, Francis, 1584-1616.; Fletcher, John, 1579-1625.; Shirley, James, 1596-1666.; Lowin, John, 1576-1659.; Taylor, Joseph, 1586?-1653?	1647 (1647)	Wing B1581; ESTC R22900	1,572,322	946

before and now set forth in one Volume THough when all Fletcher writ and the entire Man was indulged unto that sacred fire His thoughts and his thoughts dresse appeared both such That 't was his happy fault to do too much Who therefore wisely did submit each birth To knowing Beaumont e're it did come forth Working againe untill he said 't was fit And made him the sobriety of his wit Though thus he call'd his Judge into his fame And for that aid allow'd him halfe the name 'T is knowne that sometimes he did stand alone That both the Spunge and Pencill were his owne That himselfe judged himselfe could singly do And was at last Beaumont and Fletcher too Else we had lost his Shepherdesse a piece Even and smooth spun from a finer fleece Where softnesse raignes where passions passions greet Gentle and high as floods of Balsam meet Where dress'd in white expressions sit bright Loves Drawne like their fairest Queen by milkie Doves A piece which Johnson in a rapture bid Come up a glorifi'd Worke and so it did Else had his Muse set with his friend the Stage Had miss'd those Poems which yet take the Age The world had lost those rich exemplars where Art Language Wit sit ruling in one Spheare Where the fresh matters soare above old Theames As Prophets Raptures do above our Dreames Where in a worthy scorne he dares refuse All other Gods and makes the thing his Muse Where he calls passions up and layes them so As spirits aw'd by him to come and go Where the free Author did what e're he would And nothing will'd but what a Poet should No vast uncivill bulke swells any Scene The strength 's ingenious and the vigour cleane None can prevent the Fancy and see through At the first opening all stand wondring how The thing will be untill it is which thence With fresh delight still cheats still takes the sence The whole designe the shadowes the lights such That none can say he shewes or hides too much Businesse growes up ripened by just encrease And by as just degrees againe doth cease The heats and minutes of affaires are watcht And the nice points of time are met and snatcht Nought later then it should nought comes before Chymists and Calculators doe erre more Sex age degree affections country place The inward substance and the outward face All kept precisely all exactly fit What he would write he was before he writ 'Twixt Johnsons grave and Shakespeares lighter sound His muse so steer'd that something still was found Nor this nor that nor both but so his owne That 't was his marke and he was by it knowne Hence did he take true judgements hence did strike All pallates some way though not all alike The god of numbers might his numbers crowne And listning to them wish they were his owne Thus welcome forth what ease or wine or wit Durst yet produce that is what Fletcher writ Another FLetcher though some call it thy fault that wit So overflow'd thy scenes that ere 't was fit To come upon the Stage Beaumont was faine To bid thee be more dull that 's write againe And bate some of thy fire which from thee came In a cleare bright full but too large a flame And after all finding thy Genius such That blunted and allayed 't was yet too much Added his sober spunge and did contract Thy plenty to lesse wit to make 't exact Yet we through his corrections could see Much treasure in thy superfluity Which was so fil'd away as when we doe Cut Jewels that that 's lost is jewell too Or as men use to wash Gold which we know By losing makes the streame thence wealthy grow They who doe on thy workes severely sit And call thy store the over-births of wit Say thy miscarriages were rare and when Thou wert superfluous that thy fruitfull Pen Had no fault but abundance which did lay Out in one Scene what might well serve a Play And hence doe grant that what they call excesse Was to be reckon'd at thy happinesse From whom wit issued in a full spring-tide Much did inrich the Stage much flow'd beside For that thou couldst thine owne free fancy binde In stricter numbers and run so confin'd As to observe the rules of Art which sway In the contrivance of a true borne Play These workes proclaime which thou didst write retired From Beaumont by none but thy selfe inspired Where we see 't was not chance that made them hit Nor were thy Playes the Lotteries of wit But like to Durers Pencill which first knew The lawes of faces and then faces drew Thou knowst the aire the colour and the place The simetry which gives a Poem grace Parts are so fitted unto parts as doe Shew thou hadst wit and Mathematicks too Knewst where by line to spare where to dispence And didst beget just Comedies from thence Things unto which thou didst such life bequeath That they their owne Black-Friers unacted breath Johnson hath writ things lasting and divine Yet his Love-Scenes Fletcher compar'd to thine Are cold and frosty and exprest love so As heat with Ice or warme fires mixt with Snow Thou as if struck with the same generous darts Which burne and raigne in noble Lovers hearts Hast cloath'd affections in such native tires And so describ'd them in their owne true fires Such moving sighes such undissembled teares Such charmes of language such hopes mixt with feares Such grants after denialls such pursuits After despaire such amorous recruits That some who sate spectators have confest Themselves transform'd to what they saw exprest And felt such shafts steak through their captiv'd sence As made them rise Parts and goe Lovers thence Nor was thy stile wholly compos'd of Groves Or the soft straines of Shepheards and their Loves When thou wouldst Comick be each smiling birth In that kinde came into the world all mirth All point all edge all sharpnesse we did sit Sometimes five Acts out in pure sprightfull wit Which flowed in such true salt that we did doubt In which Scene we laught most two shillings out Shakespeare to thee was dull whose best jest lyes I' th Ladies questions and the Fooles replyes Old fashion'd wit which walkt from town to town In turn'd Hose which our fathers call'd the Clown Whose wit our nice times would obsceannesse call And which made Bawdry passe for Comicall Nature was all his Art thy veine was free As his but without his scurility From whom mirth came unforc'd no jest perplext But without labour cleane chast and unvext Thou wert not like some our small Poets who Could not be Poets were not we Poets too Whose wit is pilfring and whose veine and wealth In Poetry lyes meerely in their stealth Nor didst thou feele their drought their pangs their qualmes Their rack in writing who doe write for almes Whose wretched Genius and dependent fires But to their Benefactors dole aspires Nor hadst thou the sly trick thy selfe to praise Under thy friends names

or to purchase Bayes Didst write stale commendation to thy Booke Which we for Beaumonts or Ben Johnsons tooke That debt thou left'st to us which none but he Can truly pay Fletcher who writes like thee William Cartwright On Mr FRANCIS BEAUMONT then newly dead HE that hath such acutenesse and such witt As would aske ten good heads to husband it He that can write so well that no man dare Refuse it for the best let him beware BEAVMONT is dead by whose sole death appeares Witt 's a Disease consumes men in few yeares RICH. CORBET D. D. To Mr FRANCIS BEAUMONT then living HOw I doe love thee BEAUMONT and thy Muse That unto me do'st such religion use How I doe feare my selfe that am not worth The least indulgent thought thy pen drops forth At once thou mak'st me happie and unmak'st And giving largely to me more thou tak'st What fate is mine that so it selfe bereaves What art is thine that so thy friend deceives When even there where most thou praisest me For writing better I must envy thee BEN JOHNSON Upon Master FLETCHERS Incomparable Playes APollo sings his harpe resounds give roome For now behold the golden Pompe is come Thy Pompe of Playes which thousands come to see With admiration both of them and thee O Volume worthy leafe by leafe and cover To be with juice of Cedar washt all over Here 's words with lines and lines with Scenes consent To raise an Act to full astonishment Here melting numbers words of power to move Young men to swoone and Maides to dye for love Love lyes a bleeding here Evadne there Swells with brave rage yet comely every where Here 's a mad lover there that high designe Of King and no King and the rare Plott thine So that when ere wee circumvolve our Eyes Such rich such fresh such sweet varietyes Ravish our spirits that entranc't wee see None writes lov's passion in the world like Thee ROB. HERRICK On the happy Collection of Master FLETCHER'S Works never before PRINTED FLETCHER arise Usurpers share thy Bayes They Canton thy vast Wit to build small Playes He comes his Volume breaks through clowds and dust Downe little Witts Ye must refund Ye must Nor comes he private here 's great BEAUMONT too How could one single World encompasse Two For these Co.heirs had equall power to teach All that all Witts both can and cannot reach Shakespear was early up and went so drest As for those dawning houres he knew was best But when the Sun shone forth You Two thought fit To weare just Robes and leave off Trunk-hose-Wit Now now 't was Perfect None must looke for New Manners and Scenes may alter but not You For Yours are not meere Humours gilded straines The Fashion lost Your massy Sense remaines Some thinke Your VVitts of two Complexions fram'd That One the Sock th' Other the Buskin claim'd That should the Stage embattaile all it's Force FLETCHER would lead the Foot BEAUMONT the Horse But you were Both for Both not Semi-witts Each Piece is wholly Two yet never splits Y' are not Two Faculties and one Soule still He th' Understanding Thou the quick free Will But as two Voyces in one Song embrace FLETCHER'S keen Trebble and deep BEAUMONTS Base Two full Congeniall Soules still Both prevail'd His Muse and Thine were Quarter'd not Impal'd Both brought Your Ingots Both toil'd at the Mint Beat melted sifted till no drosse stuck in 't Then in each Others scales weigh'd every graine Then smooth'd and burnish'd then weigh'd all againe Stampt Both your Names upon 't at one bold Hit Then then 't was Coyne as well as Bullion-Wit Thus Twinns But as when Fate one Eye deprives That other strives to double which survives So BEAVMONT dy'd yet left in Legacy His Rules and Standard-wit FLETCHER to Thee Still the same Planet though not fill'd so soon A Two-horn'd Crescent then now one Full-moon Joynt Love before now Honour doth provoke So th' old Twin-Giants forcing a huge Oake One slipp'd his footing th' Other sees him fall Grasp'd the whole Tree and single held up all Imperiall FLETCHER here begins thy Raigne Scenes flow like Sun-beams from thy glorious Brain Thy swift dispatching Soule no more doth stay Then He that built two Citties in one day Ever brim full and sometimes running o're To feede poore languid VVitts that waite at doore VVho creep and creep yet ne're above-ground stood For Creatures have most Feet which have least Blood But thou art still that Bird of Paradise VVhich hath no feet and ever nobly flies Rich lusty Sence such as the Poet ought For Poems if not Excellent are Naught Low wit in Scenes in state a Peasant goes If meane and flat let it foot Yeoman Prose That such may spell as are not Readers grown To whom He that writes VVit shews he hath none Brave Shakespeare flow'd yet had his Ebbings too Often above Himselfe sometimes below Thou Alwayes Best if ought seem'd to decline 'T was the unjudging Rout's mistake not Thine Thus thy faire SHEPHEARDESSE which the bold Heape False to Themselves and Thee did prize so cheap VVas found when understood fit to be Crown'd At worst 't was worth two hundred thousand pound Some blast thy Works test we should track their VValke Where they steale all those few good things they talke Wit-Burglary must chide those it feeds on For Plunder'd folkes ought to be rail'd upon But as stoln goods goe off at halfe their worth Thy strong Sence pall's when they purloine it forth When did'st Thou borrow where 's the man e're read Ought begg'd by Thee from those Alive or Dead Or from dry Goddesses as some who when They stuffe their page with Godds write worse then Men Thou was 't thine owne Muse and hadst such vast odds Thou out-writ'st him whose verse made all those Godds Surpassing those our Dwarfish Age up reares As much as Greeks or Latines thee in yeares Thy Ocean Fancy knew nor Bankes nor Damms VVe ebbe downe dry to pebble-Anagrams Dead and insipid all despairing fit Lost to behold this great Relapse of VVit What strength remaines is like that wilde and fierce Till Iohnson made good Poets and right Verse Such boyst'rous Trifles Thy Muse would not brooke Save when she 'd show how scurvily they looke No savage Metaphors things rudely Great Thou dost display not butcher a Conceit Thy Nerves have Beauty which Invades and Charms Lookes like a Princesse harness'd in bright Armes Nor art Thou Loud and Cloudy those that do Thunder so much do 't without Lightning too Tearing themselves and almost split their braine To render harsh what thou speak'st free and cleane Such gloomy Sense may passe for High and Proud But true-born VVit still flies above the Cloud Thou knewst 't was Impotence what they call Height Who blusters strong i' th Darke but creeps it 'h Light And as thy thoughts were cleare so Innocent Thy Phancy gave no unswept Language vent Slaunderst not Lawes prophan'st no holy Page As if thy Fathers

come unto me 3. And I 'll send for my Daughter Lop. This may stir too The Maiden is of age and must be edified 4. You shall have any thing loose our learned Vicar And our most constant friend honest deare Diego Di. Yet all this will not do I 'll tell ye Neighbours And tell ye true if ye will have us stay If you will have the comforts of our companies You shall be bound to doe us right in these points You shall be bound and this the obligation Dy when 't is fit that we may have fit duties And doe not seeke to draw out our undoings Marry tryde women that are free and fruitfull Get children in abundance for your Christnings Or suffer to be got 't is equall justice Lop. Let Weddings Christnings Churchings Funerals And merry Gossippings goe round go round still Round as a Pig that we may find the profit Die And let your old men fall sick handsomely And dy immediatly their Sonnes may shoot up Let women dy o th' sullens too 't is naturall But be sure their Daughters be of age first That they may stock us still your queazie young wives That perish undeliver'd I am vext with And vext abundantly it much concernes me There 's a childes buriall lost looke that be mended Lo. Let 'em be brought to bed then dy when they please These things considered Country-men and sworne to 2. All these and all our sports againe and gambolls 3. We must dy and we must live and we 'll be merry Every man shall be rich by one another 2. We are here to morrow and gone to day for my part If getting children can be-friend my Neighbours I 'll labour hard but I will fill your Font Sir 1. I have a Mother now and an old Father They are as sure your own within these two moneths 4. My Sister must be prayd for too she is desperate Desperate in love Die Keepe desperate men farre from her Then 't will goe hard doe you see how melancholy Doe you marke the man do you professe ye love him And would doe any thing to stay his fury And are ye unprovided to refresh him To make him know your loves fie Neighbours 2. We 'll doe any thing We have brought Musick to appease his spirit And the best Song we 'll give him Die Pray ye sit down Sir They know their duties now and they stand ready To tender their best mirth Lop. 'T is well proceed Neighbours I am glad I have brought ye to understand good manners Ye had Puritan hearts a-while spurn'd at all pastimes But I see some hope now Die We are set proceed Neighbours Enter Arsenio and Millanes Ars. What ayles this Priest how highly the thing takes it Mi. Lord how it looks has he not bought some Prebend Leandro's money makes the Rascall merry Merry at heart he spies us Lo. Be gon Neighbours The Bar Book ready on a Table Here are some Gentlemen be gone good Neighbours Be gon and labour to redeeme my favour No more words but be gon these two are Gentlemen No company for crusty-handed fellowes Dieg. We will stay for a yeare or two and trie ye Lop. Fill all your hearts with joy we will stay with ye Be gone no more I take your pastimes graciously Would ye with me My friends Ars. We would looke upon ye For me-thinks ye looke lovely Lop. Ye have no Letters Nor any kind Remembrances Mil. Remembrances Lop. From Nova Hispania or some part remote Sir You looke like travell'd men may be some old friends That happily I have forgot some Signeours In China or Cataya some Companions Dieg. In the Mogulls Court or else-where Ars. They are mad sure Lop. Ye came not from Peru doe they look Diego As if they had some mistery about 'em Another Don Alonzo now Di. I marry And so much money Sir from one you know not Let it be who it will Lop. They have gracious favours Would ye be private Mil. There 's no need on 't Sir We come to bring ye a Remembrance from a Merchant Lop. 'T is very well 't is like I know him Ars. No sir I doe not thinke ye doe Lop. A new mistake Diego Let 's carry it decently Ars. We come to tell ye You have received great summes from a young Factor They call Leandro that has rob'd his Master Rob'd him and run away Dieg. Let 's keep close Master This newes comes from a cold Country Lop. By my faith it freezes Mil. Is not this true doe you shrink now good man Curate Doe I not touch ye Lop. We have a hundred Duckets Yet left we doe beseech ye sir Mil. You 'll hang both Lop. One may suffice Di. I will not hang alone Master I had the least part you shall hang the highest Plague o' this Tiveria and the Letter The divell sent it post to pepper us From Nova Hispania we shall hang at home now Ars. I see ye are penitent and I have compassion Ye are secure both doe but what we charge ye Ye shall have more gold too and he shall give it Yet ne're indanger ye Lop. Command us Master Command us presently and see how nimbly Die And if we doe not handsomely endeavour Ars. Goe home and till ye heare more keep private Till we appeare againe no words Vicar There 's something added Mil. For you too Lop. We are ready Mil. Goe and expect us hourely if ye falter Though ye had twenty lives Die We are fit to loose 'em Lop. 'T is most expedient that we should hang both Die If we be hang'd we cannot blame our fortune Mil. Farewell and be your owne friends Lop, We expect ye Exeunt Scaena Tertia Enter Octavio Jacintha Ascanio Oct. We cited to the Court A Bar. Table-booke 2 chairs paper standish set out Ja. It is my wonder Oct. But not our fear Iacintha wealthy men That have Estates to loose whose conscious thoughts Are full of inward guilt may shake with horrour To have their Actions sifted or appeare Before the Judge But we that know our selves As innocent as poore that have no Fleece On which the Talons of the griping Law Can take sure hold may smile with scorne on all That can be urg'd against us Ia. I am confident There is no man so covetous that desires To ravish our wants from us and lesse hope There can be so much Justice left on earth Though sude and call'd upon to ease us of The burthen of our wrongs Oct. What thinkes Ascanio Should we be call'd in question or accus'd Unjustly what would you doe to redeeme us From tirannous oppression Asc. I could pray To him that ever has an open eare To heare the innocent and right their wrongs Nay by my troth I thinke I could out plead An Advocate and sweat as much as he Do's for a double Fee ere you should suffer In an honest cause Enter Iamie and Bartolus Oct. Happy simplicitie Ia. My dearest and my best one Don Iamie Oct.

she to make it Her mouth to give it every creature living From her aspect to draw their good or evill Fixd in 'em spight of Fortune a new Nature She should be called and mother of all ages Time should be hers and what she did lame vertue Should blesse to all posterities her aire Should give us life her earth and water feed us And last to none but to the Emperour And then but when she pleas'd to have it so She should be held for mortall Lyc. And she heard you Chi. Yes as a Sick man heares a noise or he That stands condemn'd his Iudgment let me perish But if there can be vertue if that name Be any thing but name and emptie title If it be so as fooles have been pleas'd to saigne it A power that can preserve us after ashes And make the names of men out-reckon ages This Woman has a God of vertue in her Bal. I would the Emperor were that God Chi. She has in her All the contempt of glory and vaine seeming Of all the Stoicks all the truth of Christians And all their Constancy Modesty was made When she was first intended When she blushes It is the holyest thing to looke upon The purest temple of her sect that ever Made nature a blest Founder Pro. Is there no way To take this Phenix Lyc. None but in her ashes Chi. If she were fat or any way inclining To ease or pleasure or effected glory Proud to be seene and worship'd t' were a venture But on my soule she is chaster then cold Camphire Bal. I thinke so too for all the wayes of woman Like a full saile she bears against I aske her After my many offers walking with her And her as many down-denyals how If the Emperor grown mad with love should force her She pointed to a Lucrece that hung by And with an angry looke that from her eyes Shot Vestall fire against me she departed Bro. This is the first wench I was ever pos'd in Yet I have brought young loving things together This two and thirty yeare Chi. I find by this wench The calling of a Bawd to be a strange A wise and subtile calling and for none But staid discreet and understanding people And as the Tutor to great Alexander Would say a young man should not dare to read His morall books till after five and twenty So must that he or she that will be bawdy I meane discreetly bawdy and be trusted If they will rise and gaine experience Wel steept in yeares and discipline begin it I take it t is no boys play Bal. Well what 's thought off Pro. The Emperour must know it Lyc. If the women should chance to faile too Chi. As t is ten to one Pro. Why what remaines but new nets for the purchase Chi. Let 's goe consider then and if all faile This is the first quick Eele that sav'd her taile Exeunt Scaene 2. Enter Lucina Ardelia and Phorba Ardelia You still insist upon that Idoll Honour Can it renue your youth can it adde wealth That takes off wrinkles can it draw mens eyes To gaze upon you in your age can honour That truly is a Saint to none but Souldiers And lookd into beare no reward but danger Leave you the most respected person living Or can the common kisses of a husband Which to a sprightly Lady is a labour Make ye almost Immortall ye are cozend The honour of a woman is her praises The way to get these to be seene and sought too And not to bury such a happy sweetnesse Vnder a smoaky roofe Luci. I le heare no more Phor. That white and red and all that blessed beauty Kept from the eyes that make it so is nothing Then you are rarely faire when men proclaime it The Phenix were she never seene were doubted That most unvalued Horne the Vnicorne Beares to oppose the Huntsman were it nothing But tale and meere tradition would help no man But when the vertue 's knowne the honor 's dobled Vertue is either lame or not at all And Love a sacriledge and not a Saint When it bars up the way to mens Petitions Ard. Nay ye shal love your husband too we come not To make a Monster of yee Luc. Are ye women Ard. You 'l find us so and women you shall think too If you have grace to make your use Luc. Eye on yee Phor. Alas poore bashfull Lady by my soule Had ye no other vertue but your blushes And I a man I should run mad for those How daintily they set her off how sweetly Ard. Come Goddesse come you move too neer the earth It must not be a better orbe staies for you Here be a mayd and take'en Luc. Pray leave me Phor. That were a sin sweet Lady and a way To make us guilty of your melancholly You must not be alone In conversation Doubts are resolvd and what sticks neer the conscience Made easie and allowable Luc. Ye are Devills Ard. That you may one day blesse for your damnation Luc. I charge ye in the name of Chastity Tempt me no more how ugly ye seem to me There is no wonder men defame our Sex And lay the vices of all ages on us When such as you shall beare the names of women If ye had eyes to see your selves or sence Above the base rewards ye play the bawds for If ever in your lives ye heard of goodnesse Though many Regions off as men heare thunder If ever ye had Mothers and they soules If ever Fathers and not such as you are If ever any thing were constant in you Beside your sins or comming but your curses If ever any of your Ancestors Dyde worth a noble deed that would be cherishd Soule-frighted with this black infection You would run from one another to repentance And from your guilty eyes drop out those sins That made ye blind and beasts Phor. Ye speak well Lady A signe of fruitfull education If your religious Zeale had wisdome with it Ard. This Lady was ordain'd to blesse the Empire And we may all give thanks for 't Phor. I beleive ye Ard. If any thing redeem the Emperour From his wild flying courses this is she She can instruct him if ye mark she is wise too Phor. Exceeding wise which is a wonder in her And so religious that I well believe Though she would sinne she cannot Ard. And besides She has the Empires cause in hand not loves There lies the maine consideration For which she is chiefly borne Phor. She finds that point Stronger then we can tell her and believe it I look by her meanes for a reformation And such a one and such a rare way carried That all the world shall wonder at Ard. T is true I never thought the Emperor had wisdom Pittie or faire affection to his Country Till he profest this love gods give 'em Children Such as her vertues merit and his zeale I looke to see a Numa from this Lady Or greater then Octavius Phor.