SCENE III.

_Enter +Bright+, +Newcut+, +Timothy+, +Plotwell+._

+Tim.+ Lady, let me taste the Elysium of your lips.

+Aur.+ Why, what are you? You will not leap me, sir? Pray, know your distance.

+Tim.+ What am I, sweet lady? My father is an alderman's fellow; and I Hope to be one in time.

+Aur.+ Then, sir, in time You may be remembered at the quenching of Fir'd houses, when the bells ring backward,[204] by Your name upon the buckets.[205]

+Tim.+ Nay, they say You have a good wit, lady, and I can find it As soon as another. I in my time have been O' th' university, and should have been a scholar.

+Aur.+ By the size of your wit, sir, had you kept To that profession, I can foresee You would have been a great persecutor of nature And great consumer of rush candles, with As small success as if a tortoise should Day and night practise to run races. Having Contemplated yourself into ill-looks, In pity to so much affliction, You might ha' pass'd for learned; and't may be, If you had fallen out with the Muses, and 'Scap'd poetry, you might have risen to scarlet.

+Tim.+ Here's a rare lady with all my heart. By this Light, gentlemen, now have I no more language Than a dumb parrot. A little more, she'll jeer me Into a fellow that turns upon his toe In a steeple, and strikes quarters![206]

+Bright.+ And why should you Be now so dainty of your lips? Verily, They are not virgins: they have tasted man.

+Aur.+ And may again; but then I'll be secur'd For the sweet air o' th' parties. If you Will bring it me confirm'd under the hands Of four sufficient ladies, that you are Clean men, you may chance kiss my woman.

+New.+ Lady, Our lips are made of the same clay that yours [are,] And have not been refused.

+Aur.+ 'Tis right, you are Two inns-of-court men.

+Bright.+ Yes, what then?

+Aur.+ Known Cladders[207] Through all the town.

+Bright.+ Cladders?

+Aur.+ Yes, catholic lovers, From country madams to your glover's wife, Or laundress;[208] will not let poor gentlewomen Take physic quietly, but disturb their pills From operation with your untaught visits; Or, if they be employ'd, contrive small plots Below stairs with the chambermaid; commend Her fragrant breath, which five yards off salutes, At four deflow'rs a rose, at three kills spiders.

+New.+ What dangerous truths these are!

+Aur.+ Ravish a lock From the yellow waiting-woman; use stratagems To get her silver whistle, and waylay Her pewter-knots or bodkin.

+New.+ Pretty, pretty!

+Bright.+ You think you have abus'd us now?

+Aur.+ I'll tell you: Had I in all the world but forty mark, And that got by my needle, and making socks, And were that forty mark mill'd sixpences, Spur-royals, Harry-groats,[209] or such odd coin Of husbandry, as in the king's reign now Would never pass, I would despise you.

+New.+ Lady, Your wit will make you die a wither'd virgin.

+Bright.+ We shall in time, when your most tyrant tongue Hath made this house a wilderness, and you As unfrequented as a statesman fallen; When you shall quarrel with your face and glass, Till from your pencil you have rais'd new cheeks-- See you beg suitors, write bills o'er your door: "Here is an ancient lady to be let."

+New.+ You think you are handsome now, and that your eyes Make star-shooting, and dart.[210]

+Aur.+ 'T may be I do.

+New.+ May I not prosper if I have not seen A better face in signs or gingerbread.

+Tim.+ Yes, I for twopence oft have bought a better.

+Bright.+ What a sweet, innocent look you have!

+Plot.+ Fie, gentlemen, Abuse a harmless lady thus! I can't With patience hear your blasphemies. Make me Your second, madam.

+Tim.+ And make me your third.

+Aur.+ O prodigy, to hear an image speak! Why, sir, I took you for a mute i' th' hangings. I'll tell the faces.

+Tim.+ Gentlemen, do I Look like one of them Trojans?[211]

+Aur.+ 'tis So; Your Face Is missing here, sir; pray, step back again, And fill the number. You, I hope, have more Truth in you than to filch yourself away, And leave my room unfurnish'd.

+Plot.+ By this light She'll send for a constable straight, and apprehend him For thievery.

+Tim.+ Why, lady, do you think me Wrought in a loom, some Dutch piece weav'd at Mortlake?[212]

+Aur.+ Surely You Stood So Simply, Like a Man Penning of recantations, that I suspected Y' had been a part of the monopoly. But now I know you have a tongue, and are A very man, I'll think you only dull, And pray for better utterance.

+Plot.+ Lady, you make Rash judgment of him; he was only struck With admiration of your beauty.

+Tim.+ Truly, and so I was.

+Aur.+ Then you can wonder, sir?

+Plot.+ Yes, when he sees such miracles as you.

+Aur.+ And love me, can't you?

+Tim.+ Love you! By this hand, I'd love a dog of your sweet looks: I am Enamour'd of you, lady.

+Aur.+ Ha, ha, ha! now surely I wonder you wear not a cap: your case Requires warm things! I'll send you forth a caudle. [_Exit._

+Bright.+ The plague of rotten teeth, wrinkles, loud lungs, Be with you, madam.

+Tim.+ Had I now pen and ink, If I were urg'd, I'd fain know whether I In conscience ought not to set down myself No wiser than I should be?

+Plot.+ Gentlemen, how like you her wit?

+Tim.+ Wit! I verily Believe she was begotten by some wit; And he that has her may beget plays on her.

+New.+ Her wit had need be good, it finds her house.

+Tim.+ Her house! 'tis able to find the court: if she Be chaste to[213] all this wit, I do not think But that she might be shown.

+Bright.+ She speaks with salt, And has a pretty scornfulness, which now I've seen, I'm satisfied.

+New.+ Come then away to Roseclap's.

+Tim.+ Lead on; let us dine. This lady Runs in my head still.

_Enter a +Footman+._

+Foot.+ Sir, my lady prays You would dismiss your company; she has Some business with you.

+Plot.+ Gentlemen, walk softly; I'll overtake you.

+Bright.+ Newcut, 'slight! her wit Is come to private meetings!

+New.+ Ay, I thought She had some other virtues. Well, make haste, We'll stay without; when thou hast done, inform us What the rate is: if she be reasonable, We'll be her customers.

+Plot.+ Y' are merry, sir. [_Exit +Bright+, +Newcut+, +Timothy+._