Chapter IV (3)

_Ros._ And declaim
Against your base malicious tongues; your noises;
For they are nothing else: You teach behaviours?
Or touch us for our freedoms? teach your selves manners,
Truth and sobriety, and live so clearly
That our lives may shine in ye; and then task us:
It seems ye are hot, the suburbs will supply ye.
Good Women scorn such Gamesters; so I'le leave ye,
I am sorry to see this: 'faith Sir, live fairly. [_Exit._

_Mir._ This woman, if she hold on, may be vertuous,
'Tis almost possible: we'll have a new day.

_Bel._ Ye brought me on, ye forced me to this foolery;
I am asham'd, I am scorn'd, I am flurted; yes, I am so:
Though I cannot talk to a woman like your worship,
And use my phrases, and my learned figures,
Yet I can fight with any man.

_Mir._ Fie.

_Bel._ I can, Sir,
And I will fight.

_Mir._ With whom?

_Bel._ With you, with any man;
For all men now will laugh at me.

_Mir._ Prethee be moderate.

_Bel._ And I'le beat all men. Come.

_Mir._ I love thee dearly.

_Bel._ I beat all that love, Love has undone me;
Never tell me, I will not be a History.

_Mir._ Thou art not.

_Bel._ 'Sfoot I will not; give me room,
And let me see the proudest of ye jeer me,
And I'le begin with you first.

_Mir._ 'Prethee _Belleur_;
If I do not satisfie thee--

_Bel._ Well, look ye do:
But now I think on't better, 'tis impossible;
I must beat some body, I am maul'd my self,
And I ought in justice--

_Mir._ No, no, no, ye are couzen'd;
But walk, and let me talk to thee.

_Bel._ Talk wisely,
And see that no man laugh upon no occasion;
For I shall think then 'tis at me.

_Mir._ I warrant thee.

_Bel._ Nor no more talk of this.

_Mir._ Do'st think I am maddish?

_Bel._ I must needs fight yet; for I find it concerns me,
A pox on't, I must fight.

_Mir._ 'Faith thou shalt not. [_Exeunt._

_Actus Tertius. Scena Prima._

_Enter_ De Gard, _and_ Leverdure, _alias_ Lugier.

_De G._ I know ye are a Scholar, and can do wonders.

_Lug._ There's no great Scholarship belongs to this, Sir;
What I am, I am; I pity your poor Sister,
And heartily I hate these Travellers,
These Gim-cracks, made of Mops, and Motions:
There's nothing in their houses here but hummings;
A Bee has more brains. I grieve, and vex too
The insolent licentious carriage
Of this out-facing fellow, _Mirabell_,
And I am mad to see him prick his plumes up.

_De Gar._ His wrongs you partly know.

_Lug._ Do not you stir, Sir,
Since he has begun with wit, let wit revenge it;
Keep your sword close, we'll cut his throat a new way.
I am asham'd the Gentlewoman should suffer
Such base lewd wrongs.

_De Gar._ I will be rul'd, he shall live,
And left to your revenge.

_Lug._ I, I, I'le fit him:
He makes a common scorn of handsome Women;
Modesty, and good manners are his May-games:
He takes up Maidenheads with a new Commission;
The Church warrant's out of date: follow my Counsel,
For I am zealous in the Cause.

_De Gar._ I will, Sir;
And will be still directed: for the truth is
My Sword will make my Sister seem more monstrous:
Besides there is no honour won on Reprobates.

_Lug._ You are i'th' right: The slight he has shew'd my Pupils,
Sets me a fire too: go I'le prepare your Sister,
And as I told ye.

_De Gar._ Yes all shall be fit, Sir.

_Lug._ And seriously, and handsomely.

_De Gar._ I warrant ye.

_Lug._ A little counsel more.

_De Gar._ 'Tis well.

_Lug._ Most stately.
See that observ'd; and then.

_De Gar._ I have ye every way.

_Lug._ Away then and be ready.

_De Gar._ With all speed, Sir. [_Exit._

_Enter_ Lillia, Rosalure, _and_ Oriana.

_Lug._ We'll learn to travel too, may be beyond him.
Good day, Fair beauties.

_Lil._ You have beautified us.
We thank ye, Sir, ye have set us off most gallantly
With your grave precepts.

_Ros._ We expected Husbands
Out of your Documents, and taught behaviours;
Excellent Husbands, thought men would run stark mad on us,
Men of all Ages, and all states: we expected
An Inundation of desires, and offers,
A Torrent of trim Suitors: all we did,
Or said, or purpos'd to be Spells about us,
Spells to provoke--

_Lil._ Ye have provoke'd us finely,
We follow'd your directions, we did rarely,
We were Stately, Coy, Demure, Careless, Light, Giddy,
And play'd at all points: This you swore would carry.

_Ros._ We made Love, and contemn'd Love. Now seem'd holy
With such a reverent put-on Reservation
Which could not miss according to your Principles,
Now gave more hope again. Now close, now publick,
Still up and down, we beat it like a Billow;
And ever those behaviours you read to us,
Subtil, and new. But all this will not help us.

_Lil._ They help to hinder us of all Acquaintance,
They have frighted off all Friends: what am I better
For all my Learning, if I love a Dunce,
A handsome dunce? to what use serves my Reading?
You should have taught me what belongs to Horses,
Doggs, Dice, Hawks, Banquets, Masks, free and fair Meetings,
To have studied Gowns and Dressings.

_Lug._ Ye are not mad sure.

_Ros._ We shall be if we follow your encouragements;
I'le take mine own way now.

_Lil._ And I my fortune:
We may live Maids else till the Moon drop Mil-stones;
I see your modest Women are taken for monsters,
A Dowry of good breeding is worth nothing.

_Lug._ Since ye take it so to th' heart, pray'ye give me leave yet,
And ye shall see how I'le convert this Heretick;
Mark how this _Mirabell--_

_Lil._ Name him no more:
For, though I long for a Husband, I hate him,
And would be marryed sooner to a Monkey,
Or to a _Jack_ of Straw, than such a Juggler.

_Ros._ I am of that mind too; he is too nimble,
And plays at fast and loose too learnedly
For a plain-meaning Woman; that's the truth on't.
Here's one too, that we love well, would be angry;
And reason why: No, no, we will not trouble ye
Nor him, at this time: may he make you happy.
We'll turn our selves loose now, to our fair fortunes,
And the down-right way.

_Lil._ The winning-way we'll follow,
We'll bait, that men may bite fair, and not be frighted;
Yet we'll not be carryed so cheap neither: we'll have some sport,
Some mad-Morris or other for our mony, Tutor.

_Lug._ 'Tis like enough: prosper your own Devices;
Ye are old enough to choose: But for this Gentlewoman,
So please her, give me leave.

_Oria._ I shall be glad, Sir,
To find a friend, whose pity may direct me.

_Lug._ I'le do my best, and faithfully deal for ye;
But then ye must be ruled.

_Oria._ In all, I vow to ye.

_Ros._ Do, do: he has a lucky hand sometimes, I'le assure ye:
And hunts the recovery of a lost Lover deadly.

_Lug._ You must away straight.

_Oria._ Yes.

_Lug._ And I'le instruct ye:
Here ye can know no more.

_Oria._ By your leave, sweet Ladies,
And all our Fortunes, arrive at our own wishes.

_Lil._ Amen, Amen.

_Lug._ I must borrow your man.

_Lil._ 'Pray take him;
He is within: to do her good, take any thing,
Take us, and all.

_Lug._ No doubt ye may find Takers;
And so we'll leave ye to your own disposes. [_Exeunt._

_Lil._ Now which way, Wench.

_Ros._ We'll go a brave way; fear not:
A safe, and sure way too: and yet a by-way,
I must confess I have a great mind to be married.

_L[i]l._ So have I too, a grudging of good-will that way;
And would as fain be dispatch'd. But this _Monsieur Quicksilver_.

_Ros._ No, no: we'll bar him, by, and Main: Let him trample;
There is no safety in his Surquedrie:
An Army-Royal of women, are too few for him,
He keeps a Journal of his Gentleness,
And will go near to print his fair dispatches,
And call it his triumph over time and women:
Let him pass out of memory: what think ye
Of his two Companions?

_Lil._ _Pinac_ methinks is reasonable;
A little modestie he has brought home with him,
And might be taught in time some handsom duty.

_Ros._ They say he is a wencher too.

_Lil._ I like him better:
A free light touch or two becomes a Gentleman,
And sets him seemly off: so he exceed not,
But keep his compass, clear he may be lookt at;
I would not marry a man that must be taught,
And conjur'd up with kisses; the best game
Is plaid still by the best Gamesters.

_Ros._ Fie upon thee!
What talk hast thou?

_Lil._ Are not we alone, and merry?
Why should we be asham'd to speak what we think? thy _Gentleman_
The tall fat fellow; he that came to see thee.

_Ros._ Is't not a goodly man?

_Lil._ A wondrous goodly!
H'as weight enough I warrant thee: Mercy upon me;
What a Serpent wilt thou seem under such a S. _George_.

_Ros._ Thou art a fool; give me a man brings Mettle,
Brings substance with him; needs no Broths to Lare him:
These little fellows shew like Fleas in boxes,
Hop up and down, and keep a stir to vex us;
Give me the puissant Pike, take you the small shot.

_Lil._ Of a great thing I have not seen a duller,
Therefore methinks, sweet Sister--

_Ros._ Peace: he's modest:
A bashfulness, which is a point of grace, wench:
But when these fellows come to moulding, Sister,
To heat, and handling: as I live, I like him;

_Enter_ Mirabel.

And methinks I could form him.

_Lil._ Peace: the Fire-drake.

_Mir._ 'Bless ye sweet beauties: sweet incomparable Ladies:
Sweet wits: sweet humours: 'Bless you, learned Lady,
And you, most holy Nun; 'Bless your Devotions.

_Lil._ And 'bless your brains, Sir, your most pregnant brains, Sir,
They are in Trav[ail], may they be delivered
Of a most hopeful Wild-Goose.

_Ros._ 'Bless your manhood:
They say ye are a Gentleman of action,
A fair accomplish'd man; and a rare Engineer,
You have a trick to blow up Maidenheads,
A subtle trick, they say abroad.

_Mir._ I have Lady.

_Ros._ And often glory in their Ruines.

_Mir._ Yes forsooth;
I have a speedy trick: please you to try it:
My Engine will dispatch ye instantly.

_Ros._ I would I were a woman, Sir, fit for ye,
As there be such, no doubt, may Engine you too;
May with a Counter-mine blow up your valour:
But in good faith, Sir, we are both too honest:
And the plague is, we can not be perswaded:
For, look ye: if we thought it were a glory
To be the last of all your lovely Ladies.

_Mir._ Come, come; leave prating: this has spoil'd your Market;
This pride, and pufft-up heart, will make ye fast, Ladies,
Fast, when ye are hungry too.

_Ros._ The more our pain, Sir.

_Lil._ The more our health, I hope too.

_Mir._ Your behaviours
Have made men stand amaz'd; those men that lov'd ye;
Men of fair States and parts; your strange conventions
Into I know not what, nor how, nor wherefore;
Your scorns of those that came to visit ye;
Your studied Whim-whams; and your fine set faces:
What have these got ye? proud, and harsh opinions:
A Travel'd-_Monsieur_, was the strangest Creature,
The wildest Monster to be wondred at:
His Person made a publique Scoff, his knowledge,
(As if he had been bred 'mongst Bears or Bandoggs)
Shunn'd and avoided: his conversation snuft at.
What Harvest brings all this?

_Ros._ I pray ye proceed, Sir.

_Mir._ Now ye shall see in what esteem a Traveller,
An understanding Gentleman, and a Monsieur
Is to be held, and to your griefs confess it,
Both to your griefs, and galls.

_Lil._ In what I pray ye, Sir?
We would be glad to understand your excellence.

_Mir._ Goe on, (sweet Ladies) it becomes ye rarely.
For me, I have blest me from ye, scoff on seriously,
And note the Man ye mock'd: you, (Lady Learning)
Note the poor Traveller, that came to visit ye,
That flat unfurnish'd fellow: note him throughly,
You may chance to see him anon.

_Lil._ 'Tis very likely.

_Mir._ And see him Courted by a Travell'd Lady,
Held dear, and honour'd by a vertuous virgin,
May be a Beautie, not far short of yours, neither
It may be, clearer.

_Lil._ Not unlikely.

_Mir._ Younger:
As killing eyes as yours: a wit as poynant
May be, a State to that may top your Fortune;
Enquire how she thinks of him, how she holds him;
His good parts; in what precious price already;
Being a stranger to him, how she courts him;
A stranger to his Nation too, how she dotes on him:
Enquire of this; be sick to know: Curse, Lady,
And keep your chamber: cry, and curse: a sweet one,
A thousand in yearly land; well bred; well friended:
Travell'd, and highly followed for her fashions.

_Lil._ 'Bless his good fortune, Sir.

_Mir._ This scurvy fellow;
I think they call his name _Pinac_; this serving-man
That brought ye Venison, as I take it, Madam;
Note but this Scab; 'tis strange that this course creature,
That has no more set off, but his jugglings,
His travell'd tricks.

_Lil._ Good, Sir, I grieve not at him,
Nor envy not his fortune: yet I wonder,
He's handsom; yet I see no such perfection.

_Mir._ Would I had his fortune: for 'tis a woman
Of that sweet temper'd nature, and that judgment,
Besides her state, that care, clear understanding,
And such a wife to bless him.

_Ros._ Pray ye whence is she?

_Mir._ Of _England_, and a most accomplish'd Lady,
So modest that mens eyes are frighted at her,
And such a noble carriage. How now Sirrah?

_Enter a_ Boy.

_Boy._ Sir, the great English Lady.

_Mir._ What of her, Sir?

_Boy._ Has newly left her coach, and coming this way,
Where you may see her plain: Monsieur _Pinac_,
The only man that leads her.

_Enter_ Pinac, Mariana, _and Attendants_.

_Mir._ He is much honored;
Would I had such a favour: now vex Ladies,
Envy, and vex, and rail.

_Ros._ Ye are short of us, Sir.

_Mir._ 'Bless your fair fortune, Sir.

_Pi._ I nobly thank ye.

_Mir._ Is she married, friend?

_Pi._ No, no.

_Mir._ A goodly Lady;
A sweet and delicate aspect: mark, mark, and wonder!
Hast thou any hope of her?

_Pi._ A little.

_Mir._ Follow close then:
Lose not that hope.

_Pi._ To you, Sir.

_Mir._ Gentle Lady.

_Ros._ She is fair indeed.

_Lil._ I have seen a fairer, yet
She is well.

_Ros._ Her clothes sit handsom too.

_Lil._ She dresses prettily.

_Ros._ And by my faith she is rich, she looks still sweeter.
A well bred woman, I warrant her.

_Lil._ Do you hear, Sir;
May I crave this Gentlewomans name?

_Pi. Mariana_, Lady.

_Lil._ I will not say I ow ye a quarel Monsieur
For making me your Stale: a noble Gentleman
Would have had more courtesie; at least, more faith,
Than to turn off his Mistris at first trial:
You know not what respect I might have shew'd ye;
I find ye have worth.

_Pi._ I cannot stay to answer ye;
Ye see my charge: I am beholding to ye
For all your merry tricks ye put upon me,
Your bobs, and base accounts: I came to love ye,
To wooe ye, and to serve ye; I am much indebted to ye
For dancing me off my legs; and then for walking me;
For telling me strange tales I never heard of,
More to abuse me; for mistaking me,
When ye both knew I was a Gentleman,
And one deserv'd as rich a match as you are.

_Lil._ Be not so bitter, Sir.

_Pi._ You see this Lady:
She is young enough, and fair enough to please me,
A woman of a loving mind, a quiet,
And one that weighs the worth of him that loves her,
I am content with this, and bless my fortune,
Your curious Wits, and Beauties.

_Lil._ Faith see me once more.

_Pi._ I dare not trouble ye.

_Lil._ May I speak to your Lady?

_Pi._ I pray ye content your self: I know ye are bitter,
And in your bitterness, ye may abuse her;
Which if she comes to know, (for she understands ye not)
It may breed such a quarrel to your kindred,
And such an indiscretion fling on you too;
For she is nobly friended.

_Lil._ I could eat her.

_Pi._ Rest as ye are, a modest noble Gentlewoman,
And afford your honest neighbours some of your prayers. [_Exit._

_Mir._ What think you now?

_Lil._ Faith she's a pretty Whiting;
She has got a pretty catch too.

_Mir._ You are angry;
Monstrous angry now; grievously angry;
And the pretty heart does swell now.

_Lil._ No in troth, Sir.

_Mir._ And it will cry anon; a pox upon it:
And it will curse it self: and eat no meat, Lady;
And it will fight.

_Lil._ Indeed you are mistaken;
It will be very merry.

_Ros._ Why, Sir, do you think
There are no more men living, nor no handsomer
Than he, or you, By this light there be ten thousand?
Ten thousand thousand: comfort your self, dear Monsieur,
Faces, and bodies, Wits, and all Abiliments
There are so many we regard 'em not.

_Enter_ Belleur, _and two Gentlemen_.

_Mir._ That such a noble Lady, I could burst now,
So far above such trifles?

_Bel._ You did laugh at me,
And I know why ye laughed.

_1 Gent._ I pray ye be satisfied;
If we did laugh, we had some private reason,
And not at you.

_2 Gent._ Alas, we know you not, Sir.

_Bel._ I'le make you know me; set your faces soberly;
Stand this way, and look sad; I'le be no May-game;
Sadder; demurer yet.

_Ros._ What's the matter?
What ails this Gentleman?

_Bel._ Go off now backward, that I may behold ye;
And not a simper on your lives.

_Lil._ He's mad sure.

_Bel._ Do you observe me too?

_Mir._ I may look on ye.

_Bel._ Why do you grin? I know your minde.

_Mir._ You do not,
You are strangely humorous: is there no mirth, nor pleasure,
But you must be the object?

_Bel._ Mark, and observe me;
Where ever I am nam'd;
The very word shall raise a general sadness,
For the disgrace this scurvy woman did me;
This proud pert thing; take heed ye laugh not at me;
Provoke me not, take heed.

_Ros._ I would fain please ye;
Do any thing to keep ye quiet.

_Bel._ Hear me,
Till I receive a satisfaction
Equal to the disgrace, and scorn ye gave me:
Ye are a wretched woman; till thou woo'st me,
And I scorn thee asmuch, as seriously
Jear, and abuse thee; ask what Gill thou art;
Or any baser name; I will proclaim thee;
I will so sing thy vertue; so be-paint thee.

_Ros._ Nay, good Sir, be more modest.

_Bel._ Do you laugh again?
Because ye are a woman ye are lawless,
And out of compass of an honest anger.

_Ros._ Good Sir, have a better belief of me.

_Lil._ Away dear Sister. [_Exit._

_Mir._ Is not this better now, this seeming madness,
Than falling out with your friends?

_Bel._ Have I not frighted her?

_Mir._ Into her right wits, I warrant thee: follow this humor,
And thou shalt see how prosperously 'twill guide thee.

_Bel._ I am glad I have found a way to woo yet, I was afraid once
I never should have made a civil Suiter.
Well, I'le about it still. [_Exit._

_Mir._ Do, do, and prosper.
What sport do I make with these fools! What pleasure
Feeds me, and fats my sides at their poor innocence!

_Enter_ Leverduce, _alias_ Lugier, _Mr._ Illiard.

Wooing and wiving, hang it: give me mirth,
Witty and dainty mirth: I shall grow in love sure
With mine own happy head. Who's this? To me, Sir?
What youth is this?

_Lev._ Yes, Sir, I would speak with you,
If your name be Monsieur _Mirabel_.

_Mir._ Ye have hit it,
Your business, I beseech ye?

_Lev._ This it is, Sir,
There is a Gentlewoman hath long time affected ye,
And lov'd ye dearly.

_Mir._ Turn over, and end that story,
'Tis long enough: I have no faith in women, Sir.

_Lev._ It seems so, Sir: I do not come to woo for her,
Or sing her praises, though she well deserve 'em,
I come to tell ye, ye have been cruel to her,
Unkind and cruel, falser of faith, and careless,
Taking more pleasure in abusing her,
Wresting her honour to your wild disposes,
Than noble in requiting her affection:
Which, as ye are a man, I must desire ye
(A Gentleman of rank) not to persist in,
No more to load her fair name with your injuries.

_Mir._ Why, I beseech ye, Sir?

_Lev._ Good Sir, I'le tell ye,
And I'le be short: I'le tell ye, because I love ye,
Because I would have you shun the shame may follow:
There is a noble man, new come to Town, Sir,
A noble and a great man that affects her,
A Cou[n]trey-man of mine, a brave _Savoyan_,
Nephew to th'Duke, and so much honours her,
That 'twill be dangerous to pursue your old way,
To touch at any thing concerns her honour,
Believe, most dangerous: her name is _Oriana_,
And this great man will marry her: take heed, Sir;
For howsoe'r her Brother, a staid Gentleman,
Lets things pass upon better hopes, this Lord, Sir,
Is of that fiery, and that poynant metal,
(Especially provok'd on by affection)
That 'twill be hard: but you are wise.

_Mir._ A Lord, Sir?

_Lev._ Yes, and a noble Lord.

_Mir._ 'Send her good fortune,
This will not stir her Lord; a Barronness,
Say ye so; say ye so? by'r Lady, a brave title;
Top, and top gallant now; 'save her great Ladiship.
I was a poor servant of hers, I must confess, Sir,
And in those daies, I thought I might be jovy,
And make a little bold to call into her:
But Basto, now; I know my rules and distance;
Yet, if she want an Usher; such an implement;
One that is throughly pac'd; a clean made Gentleman;
Can hold a hanging up; with approbation
Plant his hat formally, and wait with patience
I do beseech you, Sir.

_Lev._ Sir, leave your scoffing;
And as ye are a Gentleman, deal fairly:
I have given ye a friends counsel, so I'le leave ye.

_Mir._ But hark ye, hark ye, Sir; is't possible
I may believe what you say?

_Lev._ You may chuse, Sir.

_Mir._ No Baits? No Fish-hooks, Sir? No Gins? No Nooses?
No Pitfals to catch Puppies?

_Lev._ I tell ye certain;
You may believe; if not, stand to the danger. [_Exeunt._

_Mir._ A Lord of _Savoy_ saies he? The Dukes Nephew?
A man so mighty? By 'Lady a fair marriage;
By my faith, a handsom fortune: I must leave prating;
For to confess the truth, I have abused her,
For which I should be sorry, but that will seem scurvy;
I must confess, she was ever since I knew her
As modest, as she was fair: I am sure she lov'd me;
Her means good; and her breeding excellent;
And for my sake she has refus'd fair matches:
I may play the fool finely. Stay who are these?

_Enter_ De-Gard, Oriana, _and Attendants_.

'Tis she, I am sure; and that the Lord it should seem,
He carries a fair Port; is a handsom man too:
I do begin to feel, I am a Coxcomb.

_Ori._ Good my Lord, chuse a nobler: for I know
I am so far below your rank and honour,
That what ye can say this way, I must credit
But spoken to beget your self sport: Alas, Sir,
I am so far off from deserving you,
My beauty so unfit for your Affection,
That I am grown the scorn of common Railers,
Of such injurious things, that when they cannot
Reach at my person, lie with my reputation:
I am poor besides.

_de-Ga._ Ye are all wealth and goodness;
And none but such as are the scum of men,
The Ulcers of an honest state; Spight-weavers,
That live on poyson only, like swoln spiders,
Dare once profane such excellence, such sweetness.

_Mir._ This man speaks loud indeed.

_de-Ga._ Name but the men, Lady;
Let me but know these poor, and base depravers;
Lay but to my revenge their persons open,
And you shall see how suddenly, how fully
For your most beauteous sake, how direfully
I'le handle their despights. Is this thing one?
Be what he will.

_Mir._ Sir.

_de-Ga._ Dare your malicious tongue, Sir?

_Mir._ I know you not; nor what you mean.

_Ori._ Good my Lord.

_de-Ga._ If he, or any he.

_Ori._ I beseech your honour.
This Gentleman's a stranger to my knowledge,
And no doubt, Sir, a worthy man.

_de-Ga._ Your mercy;
But had he been a tainter of your honour;
A blaster of those beauties raign within ye;
But we shall find a fitter time: dear Lady,
As soon as I have freed ye from your Guardian,
And done some honour'd offices unto ye,
I'le take ye with those faults the world flings on ye;
And dearer than the whole world I'le esteem ye. [_Exeunt._

_Mir._ This is a thundring Lord; I am glad I scap'd him:
How lovingly the wench disclaim'd my villany!
I am vext now heartily that he shall have her;
Not that I care to marry, or to lose her;
But that this Bilbo-Lord shall reap that Maiden-head
That was my due; that he shall rig and top her;
I'de give a thousand Crowns now, he might miss her.

_Enter a Servant._

_Ser._ Nay, if I bear your blows, and keep your counsel,
You have good luck, Sir; I'le teach ye to strike lighter.

_Mir._ Come hither, honest fellow; canst thou tell me
Where this great Lord lies? This _Savoy_ Lord? Thou met'st him;
He now went by thee certain.

_Ser._ Yes, he did, Sir;
I know him; and I know you are fool'd.

_Mir._ Come hither,
Here's all this, give me truth.

_S[e]r._ Not for your mony;
(And yet that may do much) but I have been beaten:
And by the worshipfull Contrivers beaten, and I'le tell ye;
This is no Lord, no _Savoy_ Lord.

_Mir._ Go forward.

_Ser._ This is a Trick, and put upon ye grosly
By one _Lugier_; the Lord is Monsieur _de-Gard_, Sir;
An honest Gentleman, and a neighbour here;
Their ends you understand better than I, sure.

_Mir._ Now I know him.
Know him now plain.

_Ser._ I have discharg'd my colours; so God b'y ye, sir. [_Exit._

_Mir._ What a purblinde Puppy was I; now I remember him.
All the whole cast on's face, though 'twere umber'd,
And mask'd with patches: what a dunder-whelp
To let him domineer thus: how he strutted,
And what a load of Lord he clapt upon him!
Would I had him here again, I would so bounce him,
I would so thank his Lordship for his lewd plot:
Do they think to carry it away, with a great band made of bird-pots,
And a pair of pin-buttockt breeches? Ha! 'Tis he again.
He comes, he comes, he comes; have at him.

_Enter_ de-Gard, Oriana, _&c._

_Sings._ My _Savoy_ Lord, why dost thou frown on me?
And will that favour never sweeter be?
Wilt thou I say, for ever play the fool?
_de-Gard_ be wise, and _Savoy_ go to School.
My Lord _de-Gard_, I thank ye for your Antick;
My Lady bright, that will be sometimes Frantick;
You worthy Train, that wait upon this Pair,
'Send you more wit, and they a bouncing Baire
And so I take my humble leave of your honours. [_Exit._

_de-Ga._ We are discover'd, there's no remedy
_Lilia Biancha_'s man upon my life,
In stubbornness, because _Lugier_ corrected him.
(A shameless slaves plague on him for a Rascal.)

_Ori._ I was in a perfect hope; the bane on't is now,
He will make mirth on mirth, to persecute us.

_de-Ga._ We must be patient; I am vext to the proof too,
I'le try once more; then if I fail: Here's one speaks.

_Ori._ Let me be lost, and scorn'd first.

_de-Ga._ Well, we'll consider,
Away, and let me shift; I shall be hooted else. [_Exeunt._

_Actus Quartus. Scena Prima._

_Enter_ Lugier, Lilia, _Servants_.

_Lug._ Faint not; but do as I direct ye, trust me;
Believe me too, for what I have told ye, Lady,
As true as you are _Lilia_, is Authentick;
I know it; I have found it; 'tis a poor courage
Flies off for one repulse; these Travellers
Shall find before we have done, a home-spun wit,
A plain _French_ understanding may cope with 'em;
They have had the better yet, thank your sweet Squire, here;
And let 'em brag: you would be reveng'd?

_Lil._ Yes surely.

_Lug._ And married too?

_Lil._ I think so.

_Lug._ Then be Counsel'd,
You know how to proceed: I have other Irons
Heating as well as yours: and I will strike
Three blows with one Stone home, be rul'd, and happie;
And so I leave ye. Now is the time.

_Lil._ I am ready,
If he do come to do me.

_Ser._ Will ye stand here,
And let the people think, ye are God knows what Mistris?
Let Boys, and Prentices presume upon ye?

_Lil._ Pre'thee hold thy peace.

_Ser._ Stand at his dore, that hates ye?

_Lil._ Pre'thee leave prating.

_S[e]r._ 'Pray ye go to th' Tavern. I'le give ye a Pint of wine there,
If any of the Mad-cap Gentlemen should come by
That take up women upon speciall warrant,
You were in a wise case now.

_Enter_ Mirabel, Pinac, Mariana, _Priest_, _Attendants_.

_Lil._ Give me the Garland,
And wait you here.

_Mir._ She is here to seek thee, Sirrah.
I told thee what would follow; she is mad for thee;
Shew, and advance. So early stirring Lady?
It shews a busie mind, a fancie troubled:
A willow Garland too? Is't possible?
'Tis pity so much beautie should lie mustie,
But 'tis not to be help'd now.

_Lil._ The more's my Miserie.
Good fortune to ye, Ladie, you deserve it:
To me, too late Repentance; I have sought it:
I do not envy, though I grieve a little,
You are Mistris of that happiness, those Joyes
That might have been, had I been wise: but fortune.

_Pi._ She understands ye not, 'pray ye do not trouble her;
And do not cross me like a Hare thus, 'tis as ominous.

_Lil._ I come not to upbraid your Levitie
Though ye made shew of Love, and though I lik'd ye
To claim an interest; we are yet both Strangers,
But what we might have been, had you persever'd, Sir,
To be an eye-sore to your loving Lady;
This garland shews, I give my self forsaken;
(Yet she must pardon me, 'tis most unwillingly:)
And all the power and interest I had in ye;
As I perswade my self, somewhat ye lov'd me;
Thus patiently I render up, I offer
To her that must enjoy ye: and so bless ye;
Only, I heartily desire this Courtesie,
And would not be deni'd: to wait upon ye
This day, to see ye ty'd, then no more trouble ye.

_Pi._ It needs not, Ladie.

_Lil._ Good Sir, grant me so much.

_Pi._ 'Tis private, and we make no invitation.

_Lil._ My presence, Sir, shall not proclaim it publick.

_Pi._ May be 'tis not in Town.

_Lil._ I have a Coach, Sir,
And a most ready will to do you service.

_Mir._ Strike now or never; make it sure: I tell thee,
She will hang her self, if she have thee not.

_Pi._ 'Pray ye, Sir,
Entertain my noble Mistris: only a word or two
With this importunate woman, and I'le relieve ye.
Now ye see what your flings are, and your fancies,
Your states, and your wild stubborness, now ye [fi]nd
What 'tis to gird and kick at mens fair services,
To raise your pride to such a pitch, and glory
That goodness shews like gnats, scorn'd under ye,
'Tis ugly, naught, a self will in a woman,
Chain'd to an over-weening thought, is pestilent,
Murthers fair fortune first; then fair opinion:
There stands a Pattern, a true patient Pattern,
Humble, and sweet.

_Lil._ I can but grieve my ignorance,
Repentance some say too, is the best sacrifice;
For sure, Sir, if my chance had been so happy,
(As I confess I was mine own destroyer)
As to have arrived at you; I will not prophesie,
But certain, as I think, I should have pleas'd ye;
Have made ye as much wonder at my courtesie,
My love, and duty, as I have dishearten'd ye,
Some hours we have of youth, and some of folly;
And being free-born Maids, we take a liberty,
And to maintain that, sometimes we strain highly.

_Pi._ Now ye talk reason.

_Lil._ But being yoak'd, and govern'd,
Married, and those light vanities purg'd from us;
How fair we grow, how gentle, and how tender,
We twine about those loves that shoot-up with us!
A sullen woman fear, that talks not to ye;
She has a sad and darkn'd soul, loves dully:
A merry and a free wench, give her liberty;
Believe her in the lightest form she appears to ye,
Believe her excellent, though she despise ye,
Let but these fits and flashes pass, she will shew to ye;
As Jewels rub'd from dust, or Gold new burnish'd:
Such had I been, had you believ'd.

_Pi._ Is't possible?

_Lil._ And to your happiness, I dare assure ye
If True love be accounted so; your pleasure,
Your will, and your command had tyed my Motions:
But that hope's gone; I know you are young, and giddy,
And till you have a Wife can govern with ye,
You sail upon this wo[r]ld-Sea, light and empty;
Your Bark in danger daily; 'tis not the name neither
Of Wife can steer ye; but the noble nature,
The diligence, the care, the love, the patience,
She makes the Pilot, and preserves the Husband,
That knows, and reckons every Rib he is built on;
But this I tell ye, to my shame.

_Pin._ I admire ye,
And now am sorry, that I aim beyond ye.

_Mir._ So, so, so, fair and softly. She is thine own, Boy,
She comes now, without Lure.

_Pin._ But that it must needs
Be reckon'd to me as a wantonness,
Or worse, a madness, to forsake a Blessing,
A Blessing of that hope.

_Lil._ I dare not urge ye,
And yet, dear Sir.

_Pin._ 'Tis most certain, I had rather,
If 'twere in my own choice, for you are my country-woman,
A Neighbour, here born by me, she a Stranger;
And who knows how her friends?

_Lil._ Do as you please, Sir,
If ye be fast; not all the World; I love ye,
'Tis most true, and clear, I would perswade ye;
And I shall love you still.

_Pin._ Go, get before me;
So much you have won upon me; do it presently:
Here's a Priest ready; I'll have you.

_Lil._ Not now, Sir,
No, you shall pardon me; advance your Lady,
I dare not hinder your most high Preferment,
'Tis honour enough for me I have unmask'd ye.

_Pin._ How's that?

_Lil._ I have caught ye, Sir, alas, I am no States-woman,
Nor no great Traveller, yet I have found ye,
I have found your Lady too, your beauteous Lady;
I have found her birth and breeding too, her discipline;
Who brought her over, and who kept your Lady;
And when he laid her by, what vertuous Nunnery
Receiv'd her in; I have found all these: are ye blank now?
Methinks such travel'd wisdoms should not fool thus;
Such excellent indiscretions.

_Mir._ How could she know this?

_Lil._ 'Tis true, she's English born, but most part French now,
And so I hope you'll find her, to your comfort,
Alas, I am ignorant of what she cost ye;
The price of these hired cloaths I do not know Gentlemen;
Those Jewels are the Brokers, how ye stand bound for 'em.

_Pin._ Will you make this good?

_Lil._ Yes, yes, and to her face, Sir,
That she is an Engl[i]sh Whore, a kind of fling dust,
One of your _London_ Light o' Loves; a right one,
Came over in thin Pumps, and half a Petticoat,
One Faith, and one Smock, with a broken Haberdasher;
I know all this without a Conjurer;
Her name is jumping-_Joan_, an ancient Sin-Weaver;
She was first a Ladies Chamber-maid, there slip'd
And broke her leg above the knee; departed
And set up shop her self. Stood the fierce Conflicts
Of many a furious Term; there lost her colours,
And last ship'd over hither.

_Mir._ We are betray'd.

_Lil._ Do you come to fright me with this mystery?
To stir me with a stink none can endure, Sir?
I pray ye proceed, the Wedding will become ye;
Who gives the Lady? you? an excellent Father;
A careful man, and one that knows a Beauty,
'Send ye fair Shipping, Sir, and so I'll leave ye,
Be wise and manly, then I may chance to love ye. [_Exit._

_Mir._ As I live I am asham'd, this wench has reach'd me,
Monstrous asham'd, but there's no remedy,
This skew'd eye'd Carrion.

_Pin._ This I suspected ever,
Come, come, uncase, we have no more use of ye;
Your Cloaths must back again.

_Mar._ Sir, ye shall pardon me;
'Tis not our English use to be degraded;
If you will visit me, and take your venture,
You shall have pleasure for your properties;
And so sweet heart.

_Mir._ Let her go, and the Devil go with her;
We have never better luck with these preludiums;
Come, be not daunted; think she is but a woman,
And let her have the Devils wit, we'll reach her. [_Exeunt._

SCENE II.

_Enter_ Rosalure, _and_ Lugier.

_Ros._ Ye have now redeem'd my good opinion, Tutor,
And ye stand fair again.

_Lug._ I can but labour,
And sweat in your affairs; I am sure _Belleur_
Will be here instantly, and use his anger,
His wonted harshness.

_Ros._ I hope he will not beat me.

_Lug._ No sure, he has more manners; be you ready.

_Ros._ Yes, yes, I am, and am resolv'd to fit him,
With patience to outdo all he can offer;
But how does _Oriana_?

_Lug._ Worse, and worse still;
There is a sad house for her: she is now,
Poor Lady, utterly distracted.

_Ros._ Pity!
Infinite pity! 'tis a handsome Lady,
That _Mirabel_'s a Beast, worse than a Monster,
If this affliction work not.

_Enter_ Lilia Biancha.

_Lil._ Are ye ready?
_Belleur_ is coming on, here, hard behind me,
I have no leisure to relate my Fortune.
Only I wish you may come off as handsomely,
Upon the sign you know what. [_Exit._

_Ros._ Well, well, leave me.

_Enter_ Belleur.

_Bel._ How now?

_Ros._ Ye are welcome, Sir.

_Bel._ 'Tis well ye have manners:
That Court'sie again, and hold your Countenance stai'dly;
That look's too light; take heed: so, sit ye down now,
And to confirm me that your Gall is gone,
Your bitterness dispers'd, for so I'll have it:
Look on me stedfastly, and whatsoe'r I say unto ye,
Move not, nor alter in your face, ye are gone then:
For if you do express the least distaste,
Or shew an angry wrinkle, mark me, woman,
We are now alone, I will so conjure thee;
The third part of my Execution
Cannot be spoke.

_Ros._ I am at your dispose, Sir.

_Bel._ Now rise, and woo me a little, let me hear that faculty:
But touch me not, nor do not lie I charge ye.
Begin now.

_Ros._ If so mean and poor a Beauty
May ever hope the Grace.

_Bel._ Ye cog, ye flatter,
Like a lewd thing ye lie: may hope that grace?
Why, what grace canst thou hope for? Answer not,
For if thou dost, and liest again I'll swindge thee:
Do not I know thee for a pestilent Woman?
A proud at both ends? Be not angry,
Nor stir not o' your life.

_Ros._ I am counsell'd, Sir.

_Bel._ Art thou not now (confess, for I'll have the truth out)
As much unworthy of a man of merit,
Or any of ye all? Nay, of meer man?
Though he were crooked, cold, all wants upon him:
Nay, of any dishonest thing that bears that figure:
As Devils are of mercy?

_Ros._ We are unworthy.

_Bel._ Stick to that truth, and it may chance to save thee.
And is it not our bounty that we take ye?
That we are troubled, vex'd, or tortur'd with ye?
Our meer and special bounty?

_Ros._ Yes.

_Bel._ Our pity,
That for your wickedness we swindge ye soundly;
Your stubbornness, and your stout hearts, we be-labour ye,
Answer to that.

_Ros._ I do confess your pity.

_Bel._ And dost not thou deserve in thine own person?
(Thou Impudent, thou Pert; do not change countenance.)

_Ros._ I dare not, Sir.

_Bel._ For if ye do.

_Ros._ I am setled.

_Bel._ Thou Wag-tail, Peacock, Puppy, look on me:
I am a Gentleman.

_Ros._ It seems no less, Sir.

_Bel._ And darest thou in thy Surquedry?

_Ros._ I beseech ye;
It was my weakness, Sir, I did not view ye,
I took no notice of your noble parts,
Nor call'd your person, nor your proper fashion.

_Bel._ This is some amends yet.

_Ros._ I shall mend, Sir, daily,
And study to deserve.

_Bel._ Come a little nearer;
Canst thou repent thy villainy?

_Ros._ Most seriously.

_Bel._ And be asham'd?

_Ros._ I am asham'd.

_Bel._ Cry.

_Ros._ It will be hard to do, Sir.

_Bel._ Cry instantly;
Cry monstrously, that all the Town may hear thee;
Cry seriously, as if thou hadst lost thy Monkey;
And as I like thy tears.

_Enter_ Lilia, _and four Women laughing_.

_Ros._ Now.

_Bel._ How? how? do ye jear me?
Have ye broke your bounds again, Dame?

_Ros._ Yes, and laugh at ye,
And laugh most heartily.

_Bel._ What are these, Whirl-winds?
Is Hell broke loose, and all the Furies flutter'd?
Am I greas'd once again?

_Ros._ Yes indeed are ye;
And once again ye shall be, if ye quarrel;
Do you come to vent your fury on a Virgin?
Is this your Manhood, Sir?

_1 Wom._ Let him do his best,
Let's see the utmost of his indignation,
I long to see him angry; Come, proceed, Sir.
Hang him, he dares not stir, a man of Timber.

_2 Wom._ Come hither to fright maids with thy Bul-faces?
To threaten Gentlewomen? Thou a man? A _May_-pole,
A great dry Pudding.

[3] _Wom._ Come, come, do your worst, Sir;
Be angry if thou darst.

_Bel._ The Lord deliver me!

_4 Wom._ Do but look scurvily upon this Lady,
Or give us one foul word. We are all mistaken,
This is some mighty Dairy-maid in Mans Cloaths.

_Lil._ I am of that mind too.

_Bel._ What will they do to me!

_Lil._ And hired to come and abuse us; a man has manners;
A Gentleman, Civility, and Breeding:
Some Tinkers Trull, with a Beard glew'd on.

_1 Wom._ Let's search him;
And as we find him.

_Bel._ Let me but depart from ye,
Sweet Christian-women.

_Lil._ Hear the Thing speak, Neighbours.

_Bel._ 'Tis but a small request; if e'r I trouble ye,
If e'r I talk again of beating Women,
Or beating any thing that can but turn to me;
Of ever thinking of a handsome Lady
But vertuously and well; of ever speaking
But to her honour; This I'll promise ye,
I will take Rhubarb, and purge Choler mainly,
Abundantly I'll purge.

_Lil._ I'll send ye Broths, Sir.

_Bel._ I will be laugh'd at, and endure it patiently,
I will do any thing.

_Ros._ I'll be your Bayl then;
When ye come next to woo, 'pray come not boisterously,
And furnish'd like a Bear-ward.

_Bel._ No in truth, forsooth.

_Ros._ I scented ye long since.

_Bel._ I was to blame sure,
I will appear a Gentleman.

_Ros._ 'Tis the best for ye,
For a true noble Gentleman's a brave thing;
Upon that hope we quit ye. You fear seriously?

_Bel._ Yes truly do I; I confess I fear ye,
And honour ye, and any thing.

_Ros._ Farewel then.

_Wom._ And when ye come to woo next bring more mercy.

[_Exeunt._

_Enter two Gentlemen._

_Bel._ A Dairy-maid! a Tinkers-Trull! Heaven bless me!
Sure if I had provok'd 'em, they had quarter'd me.
I am a most ridiculous Ass, now I perceive it:
A Coward, and a Knave too.

_1 Gent._ 'Tis the mad Gentleman:
Let's set our Faces right.

_Bel._ No, no, laugh at me;
And laugh aloud.

_2 Gent._ We are better manner'd, Sir.

_Bel._ I do deserve it; call me Patch, and Puppy,
And beat me if you please.

_1 Gent._ No indeed, we know ye.

_Bel._ 'Death, do as I would have ye.

_2 Gent._ You are an Ass then;
A Coxcomb, and a Calf.

_Bel._ I am a great Calf;
Kick me a little now: Why, when? Sufficient:
Now laugh aloud, and scorn me; so good b'ye;
And ever when ye meet me laugh.

_1 Gent._ We will, Sir. [_Exeunt._

SCENE III.

_Enter_ Nantolet, La-Castre, De-Gard, Lugier, Mirabel.

_Mir._ Your patience, Gentlemen: why do ye bait me?

_Nan._ Is't not a shame you are so stubborn hearted,
So stony and so dull to such a Lady,
Of her Perfections, and her Misery?

_Lug._ Does she not love ye? does not her distraction
For your sake only, her most pitied lunacie
Of all but you, shew ye? does it not compel ye?

_Mir._ Soft and fair, Gentlemen, pray ye proceed temperately.

_Lug._ If ye have any feeling, any sense in ye,
The least touch of a noble heart.

_La Cas._ Let him alone;
It is his glory that he can kill Beauty,
Ye bear my Stamp, but not my Tenderness;
Your wild unsavoury Courses set that in ye!
For shame, be sorry, though ye cannot cure her,
Shew something of a Man, of a fair Nature.

_Mir._ Ye make me mad.

_De-Gard._ Let me pronounce this to ye,
You take a strange felicity in slighting
And wronging Women, which my poor Sister feels now,
Heavens hand be gentle on her: Mark me, Sir,
That very hour she dies, there's small hope otherwise,
That minute you and I must grapple for it,
Either your life or mine.

_Mir._ Be not so hot, Sir,
I am not to be wrought on by these policies,
In truth I am not; Nor do I fear the tricks,
Or the high sounding threats of a _Savoyan_;
I glory not in Cruelty, ye wrong me;
Nor grow up water'd with the tears of Women;
This let me tell ye, howsoe'r I shew to ye,
Wild, as ye please to call it, or self-will'd;
When I see cause I can both do and suffer,
Freely, and feelingly, as a true Gentleman.

_Enter_ Rosalure, _and_ Lilia.

_Ros._ O pity, pity, thousand, thousand pities!

_Lil._ Alas poor Soul! she will dye; she is grown sensless;
She will not know, nor speak now.

_Ros._ Dye for love!
And love of such a Youth! I would dye for a Dog first,
He that kills me I'll give him leave to eat me;
I'll know men better ere I sigh for any of 'em.

_Lil._ Ye have done a worthy act, Sir; a most famous;
Ye have kill'd a Maid the wrong way, ye are a conqueror.

_Ros._ A Conquerour? a Cobler; hang him Sowter;
Go hide thy self for shame, go lose thy memory;
Live not 'mongst Men; thou art a Beast, a Monster;
A Blatant Beast.

_Lil._ If ye have yet any honesty,
Or ever heard of any; take my Counsel;
Off with your Garters: and seek out a Bough,
A handsom Bough; (for I would have ye hang like a Gentleman;)
And write some doleful matter to the World,
A Warning to hard hearted men.

_Mir._ Out Kitlings:
What Catterwauling's here? what Gibbing?
Do you think my heart is softned with a black Santis?
Shew me some reason.

_Enter_ Oriana _on a Bed_.

_Ros._ Here then, here is a reason.

_Nant._ Now, if ye be a man, let this sight shake ye.

_La-C._ Alas poor Gentlewoman! do you know me, Lady?

_Lug._ How she looks up, and stares!

_Ori._ I know ye very well;
You are my Godfather; and that's the Monsieur.

_De-Gar._ And who am I?

_Ori._ You are _Amadis de Gaul_, Sir.
Oh oh, my heart! were ye never in love, sweet Lady?
And do you never dream of Flowers and Gardens?
I dream of walking Fires; take heed, it comes now;
Who's that? pray stand away; I have seen that face sure;
How light my head is!

_Ros._ Take some rest.

_Ori._ I cannot,
For I must be up to morrow to go to Church,
And I must dress me, put my new Gown on,
And be as fine to meet my Love: Heigh ho!
Will not you tell me where my Love lies buried?

_Mir._ He is not dead: beshrew my heart, she stirs me.

_Ori._ He is dead to me.

_Mir._ Is't possible my Nature
Should be so damnable, to let her suffer?
Give me your hand.

_Ori._ How soft you feel, how gentle!
I'll tell you your fortune, Friend.

_Mir._ How she stares on me!

_Or._ You have a flattering face, but 'tis a fine one;
I warrant you may have a hundred Sweet-hearts;
Will ye pray for me? I shall dye to morrow,
And will ye ring the Bells?

_Mir._ I am most unworthy,
I do confess, unhappy; do you know me?

_Ori._ I would I did.

_Mir._ Oh fair tears, how ye take me!

_Ori._ Do you weep too? you have not lost your Lover;
You mock me; I'l go home, and pray.

_Mir._ 'Pray ye pardon me:
Or if it please ye to consider justly,
Scorn me, for I deserve it: Scorn, and shame me:
Sweet _Oriana_.

_Lil._ Let her alone, she trembles;
Her fits will grow more strong if ye provoke her.

_La Cas._ Certain she knows ye not, yet loves to see ye:
How she smiles now!

[_Enter_ Belleur.]

_Bel._ Where are ye? Oh, why do [not] you laugh? come, laugh at me;
What a Devil! art thou sad, and such a subject,
Such a ridiculous subject as I am
Before thy face?

_Mir._ Prithee put off this lightness;
This is no time for mirth, nor place; I have us'd too much on't:
I have undone my self, and a sweet Lady,
By being too indulgent to my foolery,
Which truly I repent; look here.

_Bel._ What ails she?

_Mir._ Alas, she's mad.

_Bel._ Mad?

_Mir._ Yes, too sure for me too.

_Bel._ Dost thou wonder at that? by this [good] light they are all so;
They are coz'ning mad, they are brawling mad, they are proud mad:
They are all, all mad; I came from a World of mad Women.
Mad as _March_-Hares; get 'em in Chains, then deal with 'em.
There's one that's mad; she seems well, but she is dog-mad.
Is she dead dost' think?

_Mi[r]._ Dead! Heaven forbid.

_Bel._ Heaven further it;
For till they be key cold dead, there's no trusting of 'em,
Whate'r they seem, or howsoe'r they carry it,
Till they be chap-faln, and their Tongues at peace,
Nail'd in their Coffins sure, I'll ne'r believe 'em,
Shall I talk with her?

_Mir._ No, dear friend, be quiet,
And be at peace a while.

_Bel._ I'll walk aside,
And come again anon: but take heed to her,
You say she is a Woman?

_Mir._ Yes.

_Bel._ Take great heed:
For if she do not cozen thee, then hang me.
Let her be mad, or what she will, she'll cheat thee. [_Exit._

_Mir._ Away, wild Fool: how vile this shews in him now!
Now take my faith, before ye all I speak it,
And with it, my repentant love.

_La-C._ This seems well.

_Mir._ Were but this Lady clear again, whose sorrows
My very heart melts for; were she but perfect
(For thus to marry her would be two miseries,)
Before the richest and the noblest Beauty,
_France_, or the World could shew me; I would take her
As she is now, my Tears and Prayers shall wed her.

_De-Gar._ This makes some small amends.

_Ros._ She beckons to ye,
To us too, to go off.

_Nant._ Let's draw aside all.

_Ori._ Oh my best friend; I would fain.

_Mir._ What? she speaks well,
And with another voice.

_Ori._ But I am fearful,
And shame a little stops my tongue.

_Mir._ Speak boldly.

_Ori._ Tell ye, I am well, I am perfect well: 'pray ye mock not;
And that I did this to provoke your Nature,
Out of my infinite and restless love,
To win your pity; pardon me.

_Mir._ Go forward;
Who set ye on?

_Ori._ None, as I live, no Creature;
Not any knew, or ever dream'd what I meant;
Will ye be mine?

_Mir._ 'Tis true, I pity ye:
But when I marry ye, ye must be wiser:
Nothing but Tricks? Devices?

_Ori._ Will ye shame me?