Beaumont & Fletchers Works (1 of 10) – the Custom of the Country. Beaumont Francis

belly for his only heir;

      For being of no family then, and poor

      My vertues wheresoe'r I liv'd, should make

      That kingdom my inheritance.

      Gui. Strange self Love!

      Dua. For if I studied the Countries Laws,

      I should so easily sound all their depth,

      And rise up such a wonder, that the pleaders,

      That now are in most practice and esteem,

      Should starve for want of Clients: if I travell'd,

      Like wise Ulysses to see men and manners,

      I would return in act, more knowing, than

      Homer could fancy him; if a Physician,

      So oft I would restore death-wounded men,

      That where I liv'd, Galen should not be nam'd,

      And he that joyn'd again the scatter'd limbs

      Of torn Hippolytus should be forgotten.

      I could teach Ovid courtship, how to win

      A Julia, and enjoy her, though her Dower

      Were all the Sun gives light to: and for arms

      Were the Persian host that drank up Rivers, added

      To the Turks present powers, I could direct,

      Command, and Marshal them.

      Man. And yet you know not To rule your self, you would not to a boy else Like Plautus Braggart boast thus.

      Dua. All I speak, In act I can make good.

      Gui. Why then being Master

      Of such and so good parts do you destroy them,

      With self opinion, or like a rich miser,

      Hoard up the treasures you possess, imparting

      Nor to your self nor others, the use of them?

      They are to you but like inchanted viands,

      On which you seem to feed, yet pine with hunger;

      And those so rare perfections in my Son

      Which would make others happy, render me

      A wretched Mother.

      Man. You are too insolent.

      And those too many excellencies, that feed

      Your pride, turn to a Pleurisie, and kill

      That which should nourish vertue; dare you think

      All blessings are confer'd on you alone?

      Y'are grosly cousen'd; there's no good in you,

      Which others have not: are you a Scholar? so

      Are many, and as knowing: are you valiant?

      Waste not that courage then in braules, but spend it

      In the Wars, in service of your King and Country.

      Dua. Yes, so I might be General, no man lives That's worthy to command me.

      Man. Sir, in Lisbon

      I am: and you shall know it; every hour

      I am troubled with complaints of your behaviour

      From men of all conditions, and all sexes.

      And my authority, which you presume

      Will bear you out, in that you are my Nephew,

      No longer shall protect you, for I vow

      Though all that's past I pardon, I will punish

      The next fault with as much severity

      As if you were a stranger, rest assur'd on't.

      Gui. And by that love you should bear, or that duty

      You owe a Mother, once more I command you

      To cast this haughtiness off; which if you do,

      All that is mine, is yours, if not, expect

      My prayers, and vows, for your conversion only,