There's a bed up to play the game in, Dorothy: And now, come kiss me heartily! Dor. Who are you? Hylas. This lady shall be welcome too. Hylus. Your neighbour can resolve you. Sir, you look soberly: Who is this fellow, Sam. By Heav'n, thou art abus'd still. Hylas. It may be so. Come, ye may speak now boldly; There's none but friends, wench. Dor. Came you out of Bedlam? Alas, 'tis ill, sir, that you suffer him To walk i' th' open air thus; 'twill undo him. A pretty handsome gentleman: Great pity! Sum. Let me not live more if thou be'st not. cozen'd. Hylas. Are not you my wife? Did not I marry you last night, At St. Michael's Chapel? Dor. Did not I say he was mad? Mary. There he speaks sense; but I'll assure you, gentleman, [it? I think no wife of yours. At what hour was Sir Hugh, that you appointed, about twelve Did not I court ye, coming from this gentleMary. Good sir, go sleep; for, if I credit She was in my arms then a-bed. [have, Sam. I told you. Hylas. Be not so confident! Dor. By th' mass, she must, sir; Sam. I told you what you had done. Well, go with me; for now I will be married. SCENE VIII., Enter Michael, Valentine, and Alice. Mich. 'Would he had so too! I fear you'll change your faith. Bring in the gentleman. Enter Francis and Servant, Abbess and Cellide, severally. Val. My happy mistress too? Now, Fortune, help me! And all you stars that govern chaste desires, Shine fair, and lovely! Abbess. But one hour, dear daughter, To hear your guardian, what he can deliver In love's defence, and his; and then your pleasure. [me yield, Cel. Tho' much unwilling, you have made More for his sake I see: How full of sorrow, Sweet catching sorrow, he appears! Ob, Love, That thou but knew'st to heal, as well as hurt us. [on him: Mich. Be rul'd by me: I see her eye fast And what you heard, believe; for 'tis so certain [dence: Ile neither dar'd, nor must oppose my eviAnd be you wise, young lady, and believe too. This man you love, sir? Val. As I love my soul, sir. Mich. This man you put into a free posses[der? Of what his wants could ask, or yourself renVal. And shall do still. Mich. Nothing was barr'd his liberty But this fair maid: That friendship first was broken, [row And you and she abus'd; next, (to my sor- Divers abuses done, thefts often practis'd, Cel. Oh, where have I bestow'd my faith? (Let's in for ever now) there is virtue 63! I fear that I shall be thought to put a nonsensical expletive into the text for the sake of measure only; but the use of two negatives in this manner is so very common to all old English writers, and to our Authors in particular, that I cannot doubt of its being the true reading. Seward. We see no necessity for this alteration; though two negatives are not uncommon, they are not necessary.-Besides, Mr. Seward is wrong in his assertion, that two negatives are particularly common to our Authors.' Fran. Yes.-Oh, my fortune! Mich. To give a proof I speak not enviously, Look here: D'you know these jewels? Cel. In, good mother! Enter Thomas, Dorothy, and Mary; then Sebastian and Launcelot. Val. These jewels I have known. Dor. You've made brave sport! Tho. I'll make more if I live, wench. Nay, do not look on me; I care not for you. Laun. Do you see now plain? That's mistress Dorothy, And that's his mistress. Seb. Peace; let my joy work easily. Ha, boy! art there, my boy? mine own boy, Tom, boy! Home, Launce, and strike a fresh piece of wine; the town's ours! Val. Sure, I have known these jewels. Va.. Good Heav'n, that they were! And this is he. Come hither, mistress Doro- And mistress Mary: Who does that face And view my brother well? Dor. In truth, like him. Mary. Upon my troth, exceeding like. But much, and main resemblance, both of face [it ! And lineaments of body: Now Heav'n grant Alice. My brother's full of passion. I'll speak to him. Now, as you are a gentleman, resolve me, Fran. Now I'll tell you, [happy. Because blind Fortune yet may make me Of whom I had 'em I have never heard yet, But from my infancy upon this arm I ever wore 'em. Alice. Tis Francisco, brother; By Heav'n, I tied 'em on! A little more, sir, A little, little more: What parents have you? Fran. None, [tune; That I know yet, the more my stubborn forBut, as I heard a merchant say that bred me, Who, to my more affliction, died a poor man, When I reach'd eighteen years Alice. What said that merchant? Fran. He said, an infant in the Genoa gallies, (But from what place he never could direct me) I was ta'en in a sea-fight, and from a mariner, The wars was my retreat then, and my travel, Alice. Down o' your knees, sir! [ther For now you've found a father, and that faThat will not venture you again in gallies. Mich. 'Tis true, believe her, sir; aud we all joy with you. Val. My best friend still, my dearest! And make me worthy of this benefit! Cel. Now, sir, I come to you Abbess. No, no; let's in, wench. Cel. Not for the world, now, mother.And thus, sir, all my service I pay to you, And all my love to him. Val. And may it prosper! [Callidon 65, Take her, Francisco, now no more young And love her dearly; for thy father does so. Fran. May all hate seck me else! and thus I seal it. Val. Nothing but mirth now, friends. Enter Hylas and Sam. Thou wouldst fain have a wife. For which Heav'n recompenc'd him.] Former edit. Seward. Tuke her, Francisco, now no more young Callidon.] There is an inaccuracy in this playe Frank had been never called Callidon before, but by his own name. Thus, in the second act, Thomas says, 'What, young Frank?. 'The only temper'd spirit, &c.' But it is very probable that this was the actor's or printer's mistake, who seeing him called Frank in the Persons of the Drama, might call him so here without attending to the sequel, without which the name Callidon in that place would not have been intelligible. Seward: We see no way of clearing the Authors of this inaccuracy; probably the effect of hasty composition. Tho. Thou shalt have a wife, And a fruitful wife; for I find, Hylas, That I shall never be able to bring thee children. [again 66! Scb. A notable brave boy! nown son Hylas, thou hast seven hundred pounds a- Tho. Thou shalt, boy, and shalt bestow Two hundred pounds in cloaths. Look on her; [dred, A delicate lusty wench; she has fifteen hunAnd feasible: Strike hands, or I'll strike first. Dor. You'll let me like? Mary. He's a good handsome fellow; Tho. Strike, brother Hylas, quickly. servant. Hylas. Well, let's together then. A lusty kindred! 66 A notable brave boy. look'd for, And a state without expectation: Upou my faith, I love you now extremely, Tho. This will not do it, mistress. [more. Mary. Why, when we're married, we'll do Seb. There's all, boy, The keys of all I have. Come, let's be merry! For now I see thou'rt right. Tho. Shall we to church straight? Val. Now presently; and there with nuptial The holy priest shall make ye happy all. Tho. Away then, fair, afore! [Exeunt omnes. Known son again.] So old quarto. The later editions leave out the three last words; which, however, we do not doubt, were genuine, (except the orthographical mistake,) and spoken by the actor.. THE CHANCES: A COMEDY. This Play was originally printed in the folio edition of 1647, and the Commendatory Verses by Gardiner, as well as the Prologue, ascribe it to Fletcher alone. The celebrated George Villiers, Duke of Buckingham, made some considerable alterations to it, and in that state it used to be frequently acted; but the licentiousness of that nobleman's pen rendering the Play improper for representation at this refined period, further alterations became necessary; and these have been made, with much judgement, by the great ornament of the English Theatre, Mr. Garrick. PROLOGUE. APTNESS for mirth to all! This instant night Being in himself a perfect Comedy. And some sit here, I doubt not, dare aver For ourselves, we do entreat that you would not Expect strange turns and windings in the plot, this invisible woman, Of infinite report for shape and virtue, Peter. Was there ever Men known to run mad with report before? Or wander after that they know not where To find? or, if found, how to enjoy? Are men's brains [tions Made now-a-days of malt, that their affecAre never sober, but, like drunken people, Founder at every new fame? I do believe too, That men in love are ever drunk, as drunken Are ever loving. [men [guilty Anth. Prithee be thou sober, And know, that they are none of those; not Of the least vanity of love; only a doubt Fame might too far report, or rather flatter The graces of this woman, made them curious To find the truth, which since they find so block'd [now settled And lock'd up from their searches, they're To give the wonder over. Peter. 'Would they were settled To give me some new shoes too! For I'll be Kept and preserv'd from view, so like a ParaPlac'd where no knowledge can come near [her, her, so guarded As 'twere impossible, tho' known, to reach I've made up my belief. John. Hang me, from this hour, If I more think upon her, or believe her; After my meat, and then to bed. Fred. I have a little business. John. I have something to impart. I will not miss to meet you. Fred. I'th' High Street; John. Remember. SCENE II. [Exeunt. Enter Petruchio, Antonio, and two Gentlemen. Ant. Cut his windpipe, I say! 1 Gent. Fy, Antonio! Ant. Or knock his brains out first, and If you do thrust, be sure it be to th' bilts, 1 Gent. You are too violent. Gent. Be sure it be so, [poison'd? blood my Before you use this violence: Let not doubt, And a suspecting anger, so much sway you Your wisdom may be question'd. Ant. I say, kill him, [may be, And then dispute the cause! Cut off what And what is shall be safe. 2 Gent. Hang up a true man, Because 'tis possible he may be thievish? Alas, is this good justice? Petr. I know, as certain As day must come again, as clear as truth, recompense, Maliciously abus'd, blasted for ever In name and honour, lost to all remembrance, |