THE CUSTOM OF THE COUNTRY. * * * * * Persons Represented in the Play. Count Clodio, _Governour and a dishonourable pursuer of_ Zenocia. Manuel du Sosa, _Governour of_ Lisbon, _and Brother to_ Guiomar. Arnoldo, _A Gentleman contracted to_ Zenocia. Rutilio, _A merry Gentleman Brother to_ Arnoldo. Charino, _Father to_ Zenocia. Duarte, _Son to_ Guiomar, _a Gentleman well qualified but vain glorious_. Alonzo, _a young_ Portugal _Gentleman, enemy to_ Duarte. Leopold, _a Sea Captain Enamour'd on_ Hippolyta. Zabulon, _a_ Jew, _servant to_ Hippolyta. Jaques, _servant to_ Sulpitia. Doctor. Chirurgion. Officers. Guard. Page. Bravo. Knaves, _of the Male Stewes_. Servants. _WOMEN._ Zenocia, _Mistress to_ Arnoldo, _and a chaste Wife_. Guiomar, _a vertuous Lady, Mother to_ Duarte. Hippolyta, _a rich Lady, wantonly in Love with_ Arnoldo. Sulpitia, _a Bawd, Mistress of the Male Stewes_. * * * * * _The Scene sometimes_ Lisbon, _sometimes_ Italy. * * * * * The principal Actors were _Joseph Taylor_. _Robert Benfeild_. _John Lowin_. _William Eglestone_. _Nicholas Toolie_. _Richard Sharpe_. _John Underwood_. _Thomas Holcomb_. * * * * * _Actus primus. Scena prima_. _Enter_ Rutilio, _and_ Arnold[o]. _Rut._ Why do you grieve thus still? _Arn._ 'Twould melt a Marble, And tame a Savage man, to feel my fortune. _Rut._ What fortune? I have liv'd this thirty years, And run through all these follies you call fortunes, Yet never fixt on any good and constant, But what I made myself: why should I grieve then At that I may mould any way? _Arn._ You are wide still. _Rut._ You love a Gentlewoman, a young handsom woman, I have lov'd a thosand, not so few. _Arn._ You are dispos'd. _Rut._ You hope to Marry her; 'tis a lawful calling And prettily esteem'd of, but take heed then, Take heed dear Brother of a stranger fortune Than e're you felt yet; fortune my foe is a friend to it. _Arn._ 'Tis true I love, dearly, and truly love, A noble, vertuous, and most beauteous Maid, And am belov'd again. _Rut._ That's too much o' Conscience, To love all these would run me out o' my wits. _Arn._ Prethee give ear, I am to Marry her. _Rut._ Dispatch it then, and I'le go call the Piper. _Arn._ But O the wicked Custom of this Country, The barbarous, most inhumane, damned Custom. _Rut_. 'Tis true, to marry is a Custom I' the world; for look you Brother, Wou'd any man stand plucking for the Ace of Harts, With one pack of Cards all dayes on's life? _Arn._ You do not Or else you purpose not to understand me. _Rut._ Proceed, I will give ear. _Arn._ They have a Custom In this most beastly Country, out upon't. _Rut._ Let's hear it first. _Arn._ That when a Maid is contracted And ready for the tye o'th' Church, the Governour, He that commands in chief, must have her Maiden-head, Or Ransom it for mony at his pleasure.