that sort but ill together; as mischievous as hell could wish you, but fearful in the execution.

Fisc. There is a thing within me, called a conscience, which is not quite o'ercome; now and then it rebels a little, especially when I am alone, or in the dark.

Har. Jun. The moon begins to rise, and glitters through the trees.

Isab. [Within.] Pray let us walk this way; that farther lawn, between the groves, is the most green and pleasant of any in this isle.

Har. Jun. I hear my siren's voice, I cannot stir from hence.-Dear friend, if thou wilt e'er oblige me, divert the company a little, and give me opportunity a while to talk alone with her.

Fisc. You'll get nothing of her, except it be by force.

Har. Jun. You know not with what eloquence love may inspire my tongue: The guiltiest wretch, when ready for his sentence, has something still to

say.

Fisc. Well, they come; I'll put you in a way, and wish you good success; but do you hear? remember you are a man, and she a woman; a little force, it may be, would do well.

Enter ISABINDA, BEAMONT, MIDDLETON, COLLINS, HARMAN Senior; and JULIA.

Isab. Who saw the bridegroom last?

Har. Sen. He refused to pledge the last rummer ; so I am out of charity with him.

Beam. Come, shall we backward to the castle? I'll take care of you, lady.

Jul. Oh, you have drunk so much, you are past all care.

Col. But where can be this jolly bridegroom? Answer me that; I will have the bride satisfied.

Fisc. He walked alone this way; we met him lately.

Isab. I beseech you, sir, conduct us.

Har. Jun. I'll bring you to him, madam.

Fisc. [To HAR. Jun.] Remember, now's your time; if you o'erslip this minute, fortune perhaps will never send another.

Har. Jun. I am resolved.

Fisc. Come, gentlemen, I'll tell you such a pleasant accident, you'll think the evening short. Jul. I love a story, and a walk by moonshine. Fisc. Lend me your hand then, madam.

[Takes her by the one hand, Beam. But one, I beseech you then; I must not quit her so.

[Takes her by the other hand. Exeunt. Re-enter HARMAN Junior, and ISABINDA. Isab. Come, sir, which is the way? I long to see my love.

Har. Jun. You may have your wish, and without stirring hence.

Isab. My love so near? Sure you delight to mock me!

Har. Jun. 'Tis you delight to torture me; behold the man who loves you more than his own eyes; more than the joys of earth, or hopes of hea

ven.

Isab. When you renewed your friendship with my Towerson, I thought these vain desires were dead within you.

Har. Jun. Smothered they were, not dead; your eyes can kindle no such petty fires, as only blaze a while, and strait go out.

Isab. You know, when I had far less ties upon me, I would not hear you; therefore wonder not if I withdraw, and find the company,

Har. Jun. That would be too much cruelty, to make me wretched, and then leave me so.

Isab. Am I in fault if you are miserable? so you may call the rich man's wealth, the cause and object of the robber's guilt. Pray do not persecute me farther: You know I have a husband now, and would be loth to afflict his knowledge with your second folly.

Har. Jun. What wondrous care you take to make him happy! yet I approve your method. Ignorance! oh, 'tis a jewel to a husband; that is, 'tis peace in him, 'tis virtue in his wife, 'tis honour in the world; he has all this, while he is ignorant.

Isab. You pervert my meaning: I would not keep my actions from his knowledge; your bold attempts I would: But yet henceforth conceal your impious flames; I shall not ever be thus indulgent to your shame, to keep it from his notice.

Har. Jun. You are a woman; have enough of love for him and me; I know the plenteous harvest all is his: He has so much of joy, that he must labour under it. In charity, you may allow some gleanings to a friend.

Isab. Now you grow rude: I'll hear no more? Har. Jun. You must.

Isab. Leave me.

Har. Jun. I cannot.

Isab. I find I must be troubled with this idle talk some minutes more, but 'tis your last.

Har. Jun. And therefore I'll improve it: Pray, resolve to make me happy by your free consent. I do not love these half enjoyments, to enervate my delights with using force, and neither give myself nor you that full content, which two can never have, but where both join with equal eagerness to bless each other

Isab. Bless me, ye kind inhabitants of heaven, from hearing words like these!

Har. Jun. You must do more than hear them. You know you were now going to your bridal-bed. Call your own thoughts but to a strict account, they'll tell you, all this day your fancy ran on nothing else; 'tis but the same scene still you were to act; only the person changed,-it may be for the better.

Isab. You dare not, sure, attempt this villany.

Har. Jun. Call not the act of love by that gross name; you'll give it a much better when 'tis done, and woo me to a second.

Isab. Dost thou not fear a heaven?

Har. Jun. No, I hope one in you. Do it, and do it heartily; time is precious; it will prepare you better for your husband. Come-Lays hold on her.

Isab. O mercy, mercy! Oh, pity your own soul, and pity mine; think how you'll wish undone this horrid act, when your hot lust is slaked; think what will follow when my husband knows it, if shame will let me live to tell it him; and tremble at a Power above, who sees, and surely will revenge it. Har. Jun. I have thought!

Isab. Then I am sure you're penitent.

Har. Jun. No, I only gave you scope, to let you see, all you have urged I knew: You find 'tis to no purpose either to talk or strive.

İsab. [Running.] Some succour! help, oh help! [She breaks from him. Har. Jun. [Running after her.] That too is vain,

you cannot 'scape me.

[Exit.

Har. Jun. [Within.] Now you are mine; yield, or by force I'll take it.

Isab. [Within.] Oh, kill me first!

Har. Jun. [Within.] I'll bear you where your cries shall not be heard.

Isab. [As further off.] Succour, sweet heaven! oh succour me!

SCENE II.

Enter HARMAN Senior, FISCAL, VAN HERring, BEAMONT, COLLINS, and JULIA.

Beam. You have led us here a fairy's round in the moonshine, to seek a bridegroom in a wood, till we have lost the bride.

Col. I wonder what's become of her?

Har. Sen. Got together, got together, I warrant you, before this time; you Englishmen are so hot, you cannot stay for ceremonies. A good honest Dutchman would have been plying the glass all this while, and drunk to the hopes of Hans in Kelder till 'twas bed-time.

Beam. Yes, and then have rolled into the sheets, and turned o' the t'other side to snore, without so much as a parting blow; till about midnight he would have wakened in a maze, and found first he was married by putting forth a foot, and feeling a woman by him; and, it may be, then, instead of kissing, desired yough Fro to hold his head.

Col. And by that night's work have given her a proof, what she might expect for ever after.

Beam. In my conscience, you Hollanders never get your children, but in the spirit of brandy; you are exalted then a little above your natural phlegm, and only that, which can make you fight, and destroy men, makes you get them.

Fisc. You may live to know, that we can kill men

when we are sober.

Beam. Then they must be drunk, and not able to defend themselves.

Jul. Pray leave this talk, and let us try if we can surprise the lovers under some convenient tree: Shall we separate, and look them?