A Collection of Old English Plays, Vol. III - Various
A COLLECTION OF OLD ENGLISH PLAYS; VOL. III
In Four Volumes
Edited by
A.H. BULLEN
1882-1889.
CONTENTS:
Preface
Sir Gyles Goosecappe
The Wisdome of Dr. Dodypoll
The Distracted Emperor
The Tryall of Chevalry
Footnotes
PREFACE.
I have not been able to give in the present volume the unpublished play
of Heywood's to which I referred in the Preface to Vol. I. When I came
to transcribe the play, I found myself baffled by the villanous scrawl.
But I hope that, with the assistance of some expert in old handwriting,
I may succeed in procuring an accurate transcript of the piece for the
fourth volume.
One of the plays here presented to the reader is printed for the first
time, and the others have not been reprinted. I desire to thank ALFRED
HENRY HUTH, Esq., for the loan of books from his magnificent collection.
It is pleasant to acknowledge an obligation when the favour has been
bestowed courteously and ungrudgingly. To my friend F.G. FLEAY, Esq., I
cannnot adequately express my gratitude for the great trouble that he
has taken in reading all the proof-sheets, and for his many valuable
suggestions. Portions of the former volume were not seen by him in the
proof, and to this cause must be attributed the presence of some slight
but annoying misprints. One serious fault, not a misprint, occurs in the
first scene of the first Act of _Barnavelt's Tragedy_ (p. 213). In the
margin of the corrected proof, opposite the lines,
"And you shall find that the desire of glory
Was the last frailty wise men ere putt of,"
I wrote
"That last infirmity of noble minds,"
a [mis]quotation from _Lycidas_. The words were written in pencil and
enclosed in brackets. I was merely drawing Mr. FLEAY'S attention to the
similarity of expression between Milton's words and the playwright's;
but by some unlucky chance my marginal pencilling was imported into the
text. I now implore the reader to expunge the line. On p. 116, l. 12 (in
the same volume), for _with_ read _witt_; p. 125 l. 2, for _He_ read
_Ile_; p. 128, l. 18, for _pardue_ read _perdue_; p. 232, for _Is_ read
_In_; p. 272, l. 3, for _baste_ read _haste_; p. 336, l. 6, the speaker
should evidently be not _Do_. (the reading of the MS.) but _Sis_., and
_noble Sir Richard_ should be _noble Sir Francis_; p. 422, l. 12, del.
comma between _Gaston_ and _Paris_. Some literal errors may, perhaps,
still have escaped me, but such words as _anottomye_ for _anatomy_, or
_dietie_ for _deity_ must not be classed as misprints. They are
recognised though erroneous forms, and instances of their occurrence
will be given in the Index to Vol. IV.
5, WILLOW ROAD, HAMPSTEAD, N.W.
January 24, 1884.
INTRODUCTION TO SIR GYLES GOOSECAPPE.
This clever, though somewhat tedious, comedy was published anonymously
in 1606. There is no known dramatic writer of that date to whom it could
be assigned with any great degree of probability. The comic portion
shows clearly the influence of Ben Jonson, and there is much to remind
one of Lyly's court-comedies. In the serious scenes the philosophising
and moralising, at one time expressed in language of inarticulate
obscurity and at another attaining clear and dignified utterance,
suggest a study of Chapman. The unknown writer might have taken as his
motto a passage in the dedication of Ovid's _Banquet of Sense_:--
"Obscurity in affection of words and indigested conceits is pedantical
and childish; but where it shroudeth itself in the heart of his subject,
uttered with fitness of figure and expressive epithets, with that
darkness will I still labour to be shrouded." Chapman's _Gentleman
Usher_ was published in the same year as _Sir Gyles Goosecappe_; and I
venture to think that in a passage of Act III., Scene II., our author
had in his mind the exquisite scene between the wounded Strozza and his
wife Cynanche. In Strozza's discourse on the joys of marriage occur
these lines:--
"If he lament she melts herselfe in teares;
If he be glad she triumphs; if he stirre
She moon's his way: in all things his _sweete Ape_."
The charming fitness of the expression "sweet ape" would impress any
capable reader. I cannot think that by mere accident the anonymous
writer lighted on the same words:--
"Doe women bring no helpe of soule to men?
Why, friend, they either are mens soules themselves
Or the most witty imitatrixes of them,
Or prettiest _sweet apes_ of humane soules."
From a reference to Queen Elizabeth in Act I., Scene I., it is clear
that _Sir Gyles Goosecappe_ was written not later than 1603. The lines I
have quoted may have been added later; or our author may have seen the
_Gentleman Usher_ in manuscript.
Chapman's influence is again (_me judice_) apparent in the eloquent but
somewhat strained language of such a passage as the following:--
"Alas, my noble Lord, he is not rich,
Nor titles hath, nor in his tender cheekes
The standing lake of _Impudence_ corrupts;
Hath nought in all the world, nor nought wood have
To grace him in the prostituted light.
But if a man wood consort with a soule
Where all mans sea of gall and bitternes
Is quite evaporate with her holy flames,
And in whose powers a Dove-like innocence
Fosters her own deserts, and life and death
Runnes hand in hand before them, all the skies
Cleare and transparent to her piercing eyes.
Then wood my friend be something, but till then
A _cipher_, nothing, or the worst of men."
_Sir Gyles Goosecappe_ is the work of one who had chosen the "fallentis
semita vitae"; who was more at home in Academic cloisters than in the
crowded highways of the world. None of the characters bears any
impression of having been drawn from actual life. The plot is of the
thinnest possible texture; but the fire of verbal quibbles is kept up
with lively ingenuity, and plenty of merriment may be drawn from the
humours of the affectate traveller and the foolish knight by all who are
not
"of such vinegar aspect
That they'll not show their teeth in way of smile,
Though Nestor swear the jest be laughable."
The romantic friendship between the noble Lord Monford and the
thoughtful Clarence is a pleasing study, planned and executed with a
grave, sweet sincerity. It is not improbable that Clarence was the
prototype of Charles in Fletcher's _Elder Brother_. The finest passage
in the present play, where Clarence's modesty and Monford's nobility are
portrayed in language of touching charm, was selected by Charles Lamb
(whose judgment was never at fault) for quotation in the "Extracts from
the Garrick Plays."
A second edition of _Sir Gyles Goosecappe_ was issued, after the
author's death, in 1636; and the following dedication was appended by
Hugh Perry, the publisher:--
To the Worshipfull RICHARD YOUNG of Woolleyfarme in the County of Berks,
Esquire.
WORTHY SIR,
_The many favours, and courtesies, that I have Received from you, and
your much Honor'd Father, have put such an obligation upon me, as I have
bin long cogitateing how to expresse myselfe by the requitall of some
part of them; Now this Play having diverse yeeres since beene thrust
into the world to seeke its owne entertainment, without so much as an
epistle, or under the Shelter of any generous spirit, is now almost
become worne out of memory: and comming to be press'd to the publique
view againe, it having none to speake for it (the _Author_ being dead) I
am bold to recommend the same to your Worships protection, I know your
studies are more propense to more serious subjects, yet vouchsafe, I
beseech you, to recreate your selfe with this at some vacant time when
your leasure will permit you to peruse it, and daigne mee to bee_,
Your Worships bounden Servant,
HVGH PERRY.
SIR GYLES GOOSECAPPE, _Knight_,
A Comedy presented by the Chil. of the Chappell.
AT LONDON: Printed by _Iohn Windet_, for _Edward Blunt_. 1606.
_Eugenia_, A widowe and a Noble Ladie.
_Hippolyta_, |
_Penelope_, | Ladie-virgines, and Companions to Eugenia.
_Wynnifred_, gentlewoman to Eugenia.
_Monford_, A Noble Man, uncle to Eugenia.
_Clarence_, Gentleman, friend to _Monf_.
_Fowlweather_, A french affected Travayler, and a Captaine.
_Sir Gyles Goosecap_, a foolish Knight.
_Sir Cuthbert Rudsbie_, a blunt Knight.
_Sir Clement Kingcob_, a Knight,
_Lord Tales_.
_Lord Furnifall_.
_Bullaker_, a french Page.
_Iack_, |
_Will_, | Pages.
Sir Gyles Goosecappe, _Knight_.
_Actvs Primvs_.
SCAENA PRIMA.
_Enter Bullaker with a Torche_.
_Bullaker_. This is the Countesse _Eugenias_ house, I thinke. I can
never hit of theis same English City howses, tho I were borne here: if I
were in any City in _Fraunce_, I could find any house there at midnight.
_Enter Iack, and Will_.
_Iack_. Theis two strange hungry Knights (_Will_) make the leanest
trenchers that ever I waited on.
_Will_. A plague on them _Iack_; they leave us no fees at all, for our
attendance. I thinke they use to set their bones in silver they pick
them so cleane.--See, see, see, _Iack_, whats that.
_Iack_. A my word (_Will_) tis the great _Baboone_, that was to be seen
in _Southwarke_.
_Will_. Is this he? Gods my life what beastes were we, that we wood not
see him all this while, never trust me if he looke not somewhat like a
man: see how pretely he holds the torche in one of his forefeete: wheres
his keeper trowe, is he broke loose?
_Iack_. Hast ever an Apple about thee (_Will_)? Weele take him up; sure,
we shall get a monstrous deale of mony with him.
_Will_. That we shall yfath, boy! and looke thou here, heres a red
cheeckt apple to take him up with.
_Ia_. Excellent fit a my credit; lets lay downe our provant, and to him.
_Bul_. Ile let them alone a while.
_Ia_. Give me the apple to take up _Iack_, because my name is _Iack_.
_Will_. Hold thee, _Iack_, take it.
_Ia_. Come, _Iack_, come, _Iack_, come, _Iack_.
_Bul_. I will come to you sir, Ile _Iack_ ye a my word, Ile _Iack_ ye.
_Will_. Gods me he speakes, _Iack_. O pray pardon us, Sir.
_Bul_. Out, ye _mopede monckies_, can yee not knowe a man from a
_Marmasett_, in theis Frenchified dayes of ours? nay, ile _Iackefie_
you a little better yet.
_Both_. Nay good Sir, good Sir, pardon us.
_Bul_. Pardon us! out ye home-bred peasants, plain English, pardon us?
if you had parled, & not spoken, but said _Pardonne moy_, I wood have
pardon'd you, but since you speake and not parley, I will cudgell ye
better yet.
_Ambo_. _O pardonne moy, mounsieur_.
_Bul_. _Bien je vous remercy_; thers _pardonne four vous_, sir, now.
_Will_. Why I thanke ye for it, Sir; you seeme to bee a Squire of our
order Sir.
_Ia_. Whose page might you be Sir.
_Bul_. I am now the great French Travalers page.
_Will_. Or rather the _French_ Travalers great page, Sir; on, on.
_Bul_. Hight Captaine _Fowleweather_, alias Commendations; whose
valours within here at super with the Countes _Eugenia_, whose propper
eaters I take you two to be.
_Will_. You mistake us not Sir.
_Ia_. This Captaine _Fowleweather_, alias Commendations--
_Will_. Is the Gallant that will needs be a sutor to our Countes.
_Bul_.[1] Faith, and if Fouleweather be a welcome suter to a faire Lady,
has good lucke.
_Ia_. O Sir, beware of one that can showre into the lapps of Ladies.
Captaine Fowleweather? why hees a Captinado, or Captaine of Captaines,
and will lie in their joyntes that give him cause to worke uppon them so
heauylie, that he will make their hartes ake I warrant him. Captaine
Fowleweather? why he will make the cold stones sweate for feare of him,
a day or two before he come at them. Captaine Fowleweather? why he does
so dominere, and raigne over women.
_Will_. A plague of Captaine Fowleweather, I remember him now _Iack_,
and know him to be a dull moist-braind Asse.
_Ia_. A Southerne man I thinke.
_Will_. As fearefull as a Haire, and will lye like a Lapwing,[2] and I
know how he came to be a Captain, and to have his Surname of
Commendations.
_Ia_. How I preethee _Will_?
_Will_. Why Sir he served the great Lady Kingcob and was yeoman of her
wardroppe, & because a cood brush up her silkes lustely, she thought he
would curry the enemies coates as soundly, and so by her commendations,
he was made Captaine in the lowe Countries.
_Ia_. Then being made Captaine onely by his Ladies commendations,
without any worth also of his owne, he was ever after surnamd Captaine
Commendations?
_Will_. Right.
_Bul_. I, Sir right, but if he had not said right, my Captaine should
have taken no wrong at his handes, nor yours neyther, I can tell ye.
_Ia_. What are those two Knights names, that are thy Captaines
_Comrades_, and within at Supper with our Lady?
_Bul_. One of their names Sir, is, Sir _Gyles Goosecappe_, the others
Sir _Cutt Rudseby_.
_Will_. Sir _Gyles Goosecappe_? what's he? a gentleman?
_Bul_. I, that he is, at least if he be not a noble man; and his chiefe
house is in Essex.
_Ia_. In Essex? did not his Auncestors come out of London.
_Bul_. Yes that they did Sir, the best _Gosecappes_ in England, come out
of London I assure you.
_Will_. I, but, Sir, these must come into it before they come out ont I
hope; but what countriman is Sir _Cutt Rudesby_?
_Bul_. A Northern man, or a Westernman I take him, but my Captaine is the
Emphaticall man; and by that pretty word Emphaticall you shall partly
know him: for tis a very forcible word in troth, and yet he forces it
too much by his favour; mary no more then he does all the rest of his
wordes; with whose multiplicity often times he travailes himselfe out
of all good company.
_Iack_. Like enough; he travaild for nothing else.
_Will_. But what qualities haunt Sir _Gyles Goosecappe_ now Sir.
_Bul_. Sir _Gyles Goosecap_ has always a deathes head (as it were) in
his mouth, for his onely one reason for everything is, because we are
all mortall; and therefore he is generally cald the mortall Knight; then
hath he another pretty phrase too, and that is, he will "tickle the
vanity ant" still in everything; and this is your _Summa totalis_ of
both their virtues.
_Ia_. Tis enough, tis enough, as long as they have land enough, but now
muster your third person afore us I beseech you.
_Bul_. The third person and second Knight, blunt Sir _Cutt Rudesby_, is
indeed blunt at a sharpe wit, and sharpe at a blunt wit; a good bustling
Gallant, talkes well at Rovers; he is two parts souldier; as slovenlie
as a Switzer, and somewhat like one in face too; for he weares a bush
beard, will dead a Cannan shot better then a wool-packe: he will come
into the presence like yor _Frenchman_ in foule bootes, and dares eat
Garlike as a preparative to his Courtship. You shall know more of him
hereafter; but, good wags, let me winne you now for the Geographicall
parts of your Ladies in requitall.
_Will_. That you shall Sir, and the Hydrographicall too and you will;
first my Lady the widowe, and Countes _Eugenia_, is in earnest, a most
worthy Lady, and indeede can doe more than a thousand other Ladies can
doe I can tell you.
_Bul_. What's that I pray thee?
_Ia_. Mary Sir, he meanes she can doe more than sleepe, and eate, and
drinke; and play at noddy[3], and helpe to make hir selfe ready[4].
_Bul_. Can she so?
_Will_. She is the best scholler of any woman but one[5] in England; she
is wise and vertuous.
_Ia_. Nay she has one strange quality for a woman besides, tho these be
strange enough that he has rekoned.
_Bul_. For Gods sake whats that?
_Ia_. She can love reasonable constantly, for she loved her husband
only, almost a whole yeere together.
_Bul_. Thats strange indeed, but what is your faire Lady Sir?
_Ia_. My Lady Sir, the Lady _Hippolita_--
_Will_. That is as chast as ever was _Hippolitus_.
_Ia_. (True, my prety _Parenthesis_) is halfe a maid, halfe a wife, and
halfe a widdow.
_Bul_. Strange tale to tell; how canst thou make this good, my good
_Assumpsit_.
_Ia_. Thus Sir: she was betroathed to a gallant young gentleman that
loude hir with such passion, and admiration that he never thought he
could be so blessed as to enjoy her in full marriage, till the minister
was marrying them; and even then when he was saying I _Charles_ take
thee _Hippolita_ with extreame joy, he began to looke pale, then going
forwards saying, to my wedded wife, he lookt paler, and, then
pronouncing, for richer for poorer as long as we both shall live, he
lookt extreame pale. Now, sir, when she comes to speake her parte, and
said, I _Hippolyta_ take thee _Charles_, he began to faint for joy, then
saying to my wedded husband, he began to sinke, but then going forth too,
for better for worse, he could stand no longer, but with very conceit,
it seemd, that she whom he tendred as the best of all things, should
pronounce the worst, and for his sake too, he suncke down right, and
died sodenly: And thus being halfe married, and her halfe husband wholy
dead, I hope I may with discretion affirme her, halfe a maide, halfe a
wife, and halfe a widdowe: do ye conceive me Sir?
_Bul_. O Lord Sir, I devoure you quicke; and now Sir I beseech you open
unto me your tother Lady, what is shee?
_Will_. Ile answere for her, because I know her Ladiship to be a perfect
maide indeed.
_Bul_. How canst thou know that?
_Will_. Passing perfectly I warrant ye.
_Ia_. By measuring her necke twice, and trying if it will come about hir
forehead, and slip over her nose?
_Will_. No Sir no, by a rule that will not slip so I warrant you, which
for her honours sake I will let slip unto you. Gods so _Iack_, I thinke
they have supt.
_Ia_. Bir Lady we have waited well the while.
_Will_. Well though they have lost their attendance, let not us lose our
supper, _Iack_.
_Ia_. I doe not meane it; come Sir you shall goe in, and drinke with us
yfaith.
_Bul_. _Pardonne moy, mounsieur_.
_both_. No pardoning in truth Sir.
_Bul. Ie vous remercie de bon Ceur_.
[_Exeunt_.
SCAENA 2.
_Enter Goosecappe, Rudesby, Fouleweather, Eugenia,
Hippol., Penelope, Wynne_.
_Rud_. A plague on you, sweet Ladies, tis not so late; what needed you
to have made so short a supper?
_Goos_. In truth Sir _Cutt_. we might have tickled the vanity ant an
howre longer, if my watch be trustible.
_Foul_. I but how should theis beauties know that Sir _Gyles_? your
watch is mortall, and may erre.
_Go_. Thats sooth Captaine, but doe you heare honest friend, pray take a
light, and see if the moone shine, I have a Sunne Diall will resolue
presently.
_Fo_. Howsoever beleeve it, Ladies, tis unwholesome, uncourtly,
unpleasant to eate hastely, and rise sodainly; a man can shew no
discourse, no witt, no stirring, no variety, no pretty conceits, to make
the meate goe downe emphatically.
_Eu_. _Wynnefred_.
_Wyn_. Madam.
_Eu_. I prethee goe to my uncle the Lord _Monford_, and intreat him to
come quicken our Eares with some of his pleasant Spirit; This same
_Fowleweather_ has made me so melancholly, prethie make haste.
_Wyn_. I will Madam. [_Exit_.
_Hip_. We will bid our guests good night, Madam; this same
_Fowleweather_ makes me so sleepy.
_Pen_. Fie uppon it; for Gods sake shut the Casements, heres such a
fulsome Aire comes into this Chamber; in good faith Madame you must
keepe your House in better reparations, this same _Fowlweather_ beats
in so filthily.
_Eug_. Ile take order with the Porter for it, Lady: good night,
gentlemen.
_Ru_. Why good night, and be hangd, and you'l needs be gon.
_Goos_. God give you good night Madams, thanke you for my good cheere,
weele tickle the vanity ant no longer with you at this time but ile
indite your La. to supper at my lodging one of these mornings; and that
ere long too, because we are all mortall you know.
_Eu_, Light the Lady _Penelope_, and the Lady _Hippolyta_ to their
Chambers; good night faire Ladies.
_Hip_. Good night, Madam; I wish you may sleep well after your light
supper.
_Eug_, I warrant you, Lady, I shall never be troubled with dreaming of
my _French_ Suter.
[_Exeunt_.
_Ru_. Why how now my _Frenchified_ captain _Fowlweather_? by Cods ludd
thy Surname is never thought upon here, I perceive heeres nobody gives
thee any commendations.
_Fo_. Why this is the untravaild rudnes of our grose Englesh Ladies now;
would any _French_ Lady use a man thus thinke ye? be they any way so
uncivill, and fulsome? they say they weare fowle smockes, and course
smockes; I say they lie, and I will die int.
_Rud_. I, doe so, pray thee, thou shalt die in a very honorable cause,
thy countries generall quarrell right.
_Foul_. Their smockes, quoth you? a my word you shall take them up so
white, and so pure, so sweet, so Emphaticall, so mooving--
_Rud_. I marry Sir, I thinke they be continually moving.
_Foul_. But if their smockes were course or foule.
_Rud_. Nay I warrant thee thou carest not, so thou wert at them.
_Foul_. S'death they put not all their virtues in their smockes, or in
their mockes, or in their stewde cockes as our Ladies doe.
_Rud_. But in their stewd pox, thers all their gentilitie.
_Goos_. Nay, good Sir _Cutt_., doe not agravate him no more.
_Foul_. Then they are so kinde, so wise, so familiar, so noble, so sweet
in entertainment, that when you shall have cause to descourse or
sometimes to come neerer them; if your breath be ill, your teeth ill, or
any thing about you ill, why they will presently breake with ye, in
kinde sort, good termes, pretty experiments, and tell you plaine this;
thus it is with your breath, Sir, thus it is with your teeth, Sir, this
is your disease, and this is your medicine.
_Goos_. As I am true mortall Knight, it is most superlatively good, this.
_Foul_. Why this is courtly now, this is sweete, this plaine, this is
familiar, but by the Court of _France_, our peevish dames are so proud,
so precise, so coy, so disdainfull, and so subtill, as the _Pomonian_
Serpent, _mort dieu_ the Puncke of _Babylon_ was never so subtill.
_Rud_. Nay, doe not chafe so, Captaine.
_Foul_. Your _Frenchman_ would ever chafe, sir _Cutt_., being thus
movde.
_Rud_. What? and play with his beard so?
_Foul_. I and brystle, it doth expresse that passion of anger very full,
and emphaticall.
_Goos_: Nay good Knight if your _French_ wood brystle, let him alone, in
troth our Ladies are a little too coy, and subtill, Captaine, indeed.
_Foul_. Subtill, sir _Gyles Goosecappe_? I assure your soule, they are
as subtill with their suters, or loves, as the latine Dialect, where the
nominative Case, and the Verbe, the Substantive, and the Adjective, the
Verbe, and the [ad]Verbe, stand as far a sunder, as if they were perfect
strangers one to another, and you shall hardly find them out; but then
learne to Conster, and perse them, and you shall find them prepared and
acquainted, and agree together in Case, gender, and number.
_Goos_. I detest[6], Sir _Cutt_, I did not thinke he had bin halfe the
quintessence of a scholler he is.
_Foul_. Slydd there's not one of them truely emphaticall.
_Goos_. Yes, I'le ensure you Captaine, there are many of them truely
emphaticall: but all your _French_ Ladies are not fatt? are they sir?
_Foul_. Fatt sir? why doe ye thinke emphaticall is fatt, sir _Gyles_?
_Rud_. Gods my life, brother Knight, didst thou thinke so? hart I know
not what it is my selfe, but yet I never thought it was fatt, Ile be
sworne to thee.
_Foul_. Why if any true Courtly dame had had but this new fashioned
sute, to entertaine anything indifferently stuffed, why you should have
had her more respective by farre.
_Rud_. Nay, theres some reason for that, Captaine, me thinks a true
woman should perpetually doate upon a new fashion.
_Foul_. Why y'are i'thright sir _Cutt. In nova fert animus mutatas
dicere formas_[7]. Tis the mind of man, and woman to affect new
fashions; but to our Mynsatives[8] for sooth, if he come like to your
_Besognio_,[9] or your bore, so he be rich, or emphaticall, they care
not; would I might never excell a dutch Skipper in Courtship, if I did
not put distaste into my cariage of purpose; I knew I should not please
them. _Lacquay? allume le torche_.
_Rud_. Slydd, heres neyther Torch, nor Lacquay, me thinks.
_Foul_. _O mon dieu_.
_Rud_. O doe not sweare Captaine.
_Foul_. Your Frenchman ever sweares, Sir _Cutt_, upon the lacke of his
Lacquay, I assure you.
_Goos_. See heere he comes, and my Ladies two pages, they have been
tickling the vanity ont yfaith.
SCAENA TERTIA.
_Enter to them Iack, Bullaker, Will_.
_Ia_. Captaine _Fowleweather_, my Lady the Countes _Eugenia_ commends
her most kindly to you, and is determined to morrowe morning earely, if
it be a frost, to take her Coach to Barnet to bee nipt; where if it
please you, to meete her, and accompany her homewarde, joyning your wit
with the frost, and helpe to nip her, She does not doubt but tho you had
a sad supper, you will have a joyfull breakefast.
_Foul_. I shall indeed, my deare youth.
_Rud_. Why Captaine I abus'd thee, I see: I said the Ladies respected
thee not, and now I perceive the widow is in love with thee.