PROLOGUE.

YOU

YOU'RE welcome, Gentlemen, and would our Feaft Were fo well feafon'd, to please ev'ry Gueft; Ingenuous Appetites, I hope we fhall,

And their Examples may prevail in all,
Our noble Friend, who writ this, bid me fay,
He'd rather dress, upon a Triumph-Day,

My Lord Mayor's Feaft, and make him Sauces too,
Sauce for each fevral Mouth, nay further go,
He'd rather build up thofe invincible Pies
And Caftle-Custards that affright all Eyes,
Nay eat 'em all and their Artillery,
Than dress for fuch a curious Company
One fingle Dish; yet he has pleas'd ye too,
And you've confefs'd be knew well what to do;
Be bungry as you were wont to be, and bring
Sharp Stomachs to the Stories he shall fing,
And he dare yet, be fays, prepare a Table
Shall make you fay, well dreft, and be well able.

A

ME N.

Lphonfo, King of Naples, elder Brother to Frederick. Frederick, unnatural and libidinous Brother to Alphonfo, and Ufurper of his Kingdom.

Sorano, a Lord, Brother to Evanthe, Frederick's wicked Inftrument.

Valerio, a noble young Lord, Servant, afterward married to Evanthe.

Camillo,

Cleanthes,

Menallo,

three boneft Court Lords.

Rugio, an honest Lord, Friend to Alphonfo.

Marco, a Friar, Alphonfo's Friend,

Podramo, a neceffary Creature to Sorano.

Tonie, King Frederick's Knavish Fool.

Caftruccio, Captain of the Citadel, an honeft Man.
Cupid, Graces, with other Mafquers.

Citizens, Lawyer, Phyfician, Captain, Cut-purfe, Foal, and Attendants.

WOME N.

Queen, Wife to Frederick, a virtuous Lady.

Evanthe, Sifter to Sorano, the chafte Wife of Valerio, or a Wife for a Month.

Caffandra, an old Bawd, Waiting-woman to Evanthe.
Ladies.

City Wives.

SCENE, NAPLES.

A

A

WIFE for a MONTH.

ACTI. SCENE I.

Enter King Frederick, Sorano, Valerio, Camillo, Cleanthes, Menallo, and Attendants.

W

S.ORANO.

ILL your Grace speak?

Fred. Let me alone, Sorano,

Although my Thoughts feem fad, they're wel

come to me.

Sor. You know I'm private as your fecret
Wishes,

Ready to fling my Soul upon your Service,
Ere your Command be on't.

Fred. Bid thofe depart.

Sor. You must retire, my Lords.

Cam. What new Defign

Is hammering in his Head now?

Cle. Let's pray heartily

None of our Heads meet with't; my Wife's old,
That's all my Comfort.

Men. Mine's ugly, that I am fure on,

And I think honeft too, 'twould make me start elfe.
Cam. Mine's troubled in the Country with a Fever,

And some few Infirmities elfe; he looks again,

Come

Come let's retire, certain 'tis fome She-bufinefs

This new Lord's employ'd in. Val. I'll not be far off,

Because I doubt the Cause.

Fred. Are they all gone?

Sor. All but your faithful Servant.
Fred. I would tell thee,

But 'tis a thing thou canst not like.

Sor. Pray ye fpeak it,

Is it my Head? i have it ready for ye, Sir:
Is't any Action in my Power? My Wit?
I care not of what Nature, nor what follows.
Fred. I am in Love..

Sor. That's th' least thing of a Thousand,
The eafieft to atchieve.

Fred. But with whom, Sorano?

[Exit.

Sor. With whom you please, you must not be deny'd, Sir. Fred. Say it be with one of thy Kinswomen.

Sor. Say with all,

I fhall more love your Grace, I shall more honour
And would I had enough to ferve your Pleasure.
Fred. Why 'tis thy Sifter then, the fair Evanthe,
I'll be plain with thee.

Sor. I'll be as plain with you, Sir,

She brought not her Perfections to the World,
To lock them in a Cafe, or hang 'em by her,
The ufe is all fhe breeds 'em for; fhe's yours, Sir.
Fred. Doft thou mean seriously!

Sor. I mean my Sifter;

ye,

And if I had a Dozen more, they were all yours:
Some Aunts I have, they have been handfom Women,
My Mother's dead indeed, and fome few Coufins
That are now fhooting up, we fhall fee shortly.
Fred. No, 'tis Evanthe.

Sor. I have fent my Man to her

Upon fome Bufinefs to come (1) presently,

Hither she shall come; your Grace dare speak unto her?

-prefently

(r) Hither, he shall come; -] Hither, i. e. into your Apartments. But Sorano could not fay that he had fent for her to come thither. The Comma therefore fhould be, as I have put it, after presently.

Large

Large golden Promifes, and fweet Language, Sir,
You know what they work; fhe's a compleat Courtier :"
Befides I'll fet in.

Fred. She waits on my Queen.

What Jealoufy and Anger may arife,
Incenfing her?

Sor. You have a good fweet Lady,

A Woman of fo ev'n and still a Temper,
She knows not Anger; fay fhe were a Fury,
I'd thought you had been abfolute, the great King,
(2) The Fountain of all Honours, Plays and Pleafures,
Your Will and your Commands unbounded alfo;
Go get a Pair of Beads and learn to pray, Sir.
Enter Servant.

Ser. My Lord, your Servant ftays.

Sor. Bid him come hither,

And bring the Lady with him. Fred. I will woo her. And either lose myself, or win her Favour.

Sor. She's coming in.

Fred. Thy Eyes fhoot through the Door,

They are so piercing, that the Beams they dart
Give new Light to the Room.

Enter Podramo and Evanthe.

Evan. Whither doft thou go?

This is the King's fide, and his private Lodgings,
What Business have I here?

Pod. My Lord fent for ye.

(2) The Fountain of all Honours, Plays and Pleafures,

Your Will and your Commands unbounded alfo;] The Cenfure this Paffage is liable to I would endeavour to wipe off, by reading, Pains and Pleafures,

Or throwing a Word in at the beginning of the fecend Line, and altering the Pointing in the first;

The Fountain of all Honours; Pains and Pleasures

Waiting your Will, and your Commands unbounded.

i. e. I took you to be a great King that could punish or reward by arbitrary Will, and with an unbounded Authority. But the true Reading, as well as the most obvious, is this,

The Fountain of all Honours, Place and Pleasures.

So in the last Act of this Play Urbino (Valerio disguis'd) fays,
I love my Friend, not measur'd out by Time,

Nor bir'd by Circumftance of Place and Honour.