A FAIR QUARREL, A COMEDY:

BY THOMAS MIDDLETON AND WILLIAM ROWLEY.

CAPTAIN AGER, in a dispute with a Colonel his friend, receives from the Colonel the appellation of Son of a Whore. A challenge is given and accepted; but the Captain, before he goes to the fiela, is willing to be confirmed of his mother's honour from her own lips. LADY AGER, being questioned by her son, to prevent a duel, falsely slanders herself of unchastity. The Captain, thinking that he has a bad cause, refuses to fight; but being reproached by the Colonel with cowardice, he esteems that he has now a sufficient cause for a quarrel, in the vindicating of his honour from that aspersion; and draws, and disarms his opponent.

LADY. CAPTAIN, her son.

Lady. Where left you your dear friend the colonel ?
Capt. Oh, the dear colonel, I should meet him soon.
Lady. Oh, fail him not then, he's a gentleman
The fame and reputation of your time

Is much engaged to.

Capt. Yes, and you knew all, mother.

Lady. I thought I 'd known so much of his fair goodness.

More could not have been look'd for. Capt. O yes, yes, madam.

And this his last exceeded all the rest.

Lady. For gratitude's sake, let me know this, I prithee.
Capt. Then thus, and I desire your censure freely,
Whether it appear'd not a strange noble kindness
in him.

Lady. Trust me, I long to hear 't.
Capt. You know he 's hasty,
That by the way.

Lady. So are the best conditions,
Your father was the like.

Capt. I begin now

To doubt me more, why am not I so too then? Blood follows blood through forty generations,

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And I've a slow-pac'd wrath, a shrewd dilemma.

Lady. Well, as you were saying, sir.
Capt. Marry, thus good madam:

[Aside.

There was in company a foul-mouth'd villain-
Stay, stay-

Who should I liken him to, that you have seen? He comes so near one that I would not match him with,

Faith, just of the colonel's pitch, he 's ne'er the

worse man;

Usurers have been compared to magistrates,
Extortioners to lawyers, and the like,

But they all prove ne'er the worse men for that.
Lady. That's bad enough, they need not.
Capt. This rude fellow,

A shame to all humanity or manners,

Breathes from the rottenness of his gall and malice, The foulest stain that ever man's fame blemish'd, Part of which fell upon your honour, madam, Which heighten'd my affliction.

Lady. Mine? my honour, sir?

Capt. The colonel soon enrag'd (as he 's all touchwood) Takes fire before me, makes the quarrel his,

Appoints the field; my wrath could not be heard,
His was so high pitch'd, so gloriously mounted.
Now what's the friendly fear that fights within me,
Should his brave noble fury undertake

A cause that were unjust in our defence,
And so to lose him everlastingly,

In that dark depth where all bad quarrels sink,
Never to rise again, what pity 't were,

First to die here, and never to die there!

Lady. Why, what's the quarrel, speak, sir, that should

raise

Such fearful doubt, my honour bearing part on 't? The words, whate'er they were

Capt. Son of a whore.

Lady. Thou liest :

And were my love ten thousand times more to thee, Which is as much now, as e'er mother's was, So thou shouldst feel my anger. Dost thou call That quarrel doubtful? where are all my merits? [Strikes him. Not one stand up to tell this man his error? Thou mightst as well bring the Sun's truth in question,

As thy birth, or my honour.

Capt. Now blessing crown you for 't,

It is the joyfull'st blow that e'er flesh felt.

Lady. Nay stay, stay sir, thou art not left so soon; This is no question to be slighted of,

And at your pleasure closed up fair again,

As though you'd never touched it, no, honour doubted,

Is honour deeply wounded, and it rages

More than a common smart, being of thy making.
For thee to fear my truth, it kills my comfort.
Where should fame seek for her reward, when he
That is her own by the great tie of blood,
Is farthest off in bounty? O poor goodness!
That only pay'st thyself with thy own works,
For nothing else looks towards thee. Tell me, pray,
Which of my loving cares dost thou requite
With this vile thought? which of my prayers or
wishes?

Many thou owest me for. This seven year hast

thou known me

A widow, only married to my vow;

That's no small witness of my faith and love To him that in life was thy honour'd father, And live I now to know that good mistrusted? Capt. No, 't shall appear that my belief is cheerful; For never was a mother's reputation

Noblier defended; 'tis my joy and pride
I have a firm [faith] to bestow upon it.
Lady. What's that you said, sir?
Capt. 'Twere too bold and soon yet
To crave forgiveness of you.
Dead or alive I know I shall enjoy it.
Lady. What's all this, sir?

I will earn it first.

Capt. My joy's beyond expression :

I do but think how wretched I had been, Were this another's quarrel, and not mine. Lady. Why, is it your's?

Capt. Mine! think me not so miserable,

Not to be mine: then were I worse than abject, More to be loathed than vileness, or sin's dunghill: Nor did I fear your goodness, faithful madam, But came with greedy joy to be confirm'd in 't, To give the nobler onset: then shines valour, And admiration from her fix'd sphere draws, When it comes burnish'd with a righteous cause, Without which I'm ten fathoms under coward, That now am ten degrees above a man, Which is but one of virtue's easiest wonders. Lady. But pray stay; all this while I understood The colonel was the man.

Capt. Yes, he's the man,

The man of injury, reproach, and slander,
Which I must turn into his soul again.

Lady. The colonel do 't! that 's strange.

Capt. The villain did it :

you,

That's not so strange ;-your blessing, and your

leave

Lady. Come, come, you shall not go.

Capt. Not go? were death

Sent now to summon me to my eternity,

I'd put him off an hour: why, the whole world Has not chains strong enough to bind me from 't: The strongest is my reverence to you,

Which if

you force upon me in this case,

I must be forced to break it.

Lady. Stay, I say.

Capt. In anything command me but in this, madam. Lady. 'Las! I shall lose him.

Capt. At

my return I will.

You'll hear me first?

Lady. You'll never hear me more then.

Capt. How?

Lady. Come back, I say:

You may well think there's cause I call so often. Capt. Ha, cause! what cause?

Lady. So much, you must not go.

Capt. Must not? why?

Lady. I know a reason for 't,

Which I could wish you 'd yield to, and not know :

If

not, it must come forth.

And yet obey my will.

Capt. Why, I desire

Faith, do not know,

To know no other than the cause I have,

Nor should you wish it, if you take your injury; For one more great, I know the world includes

not.

Lady. Yes, one that makes this nothing,-yet be

ruled,

And if you understand not, seek no farther. Capt. I must, for this is nothing.

Lady. Then take all,

And if amongst it you receive that secret

That will offend you, though you condemn me,

Yet blame yourself a little, for perhaps

I would have made my reputation sound
Upon another's hazard with less pity;
But upon yours I dare not.

Capt. How!

Lady. I dare not :

'Twas your own seeking, this. Capt. If you mean evilly,