SCENE IV.

_Enter +Aurelia+._

+Plot.+ Nay, sister, you may enter; they are gone. I did receive your ticket this morning. What! You look the mine should run still?

+Aur.+ O, you are A careful brother to put me on a course That draws the eyes o' th' town upon me, and makes me Discourse for ordinaries, then leave me in't. I will put off my ladyship, and return To Mistress Holland, and to making shirts And bands again.

+Plot.+ I hope you will not.

+Aur.+ I repent I left th' Exchange.

+Plot.+ Faith, I should laugh To see you there again, and there serve out The rest of your indentures, by managing Your needle well, and making nightcaps by A chafing-dish in winter mornings, to keep Your fingers pliant. How rarely 'twould become you To run over all your shop to passengers In a fine sale-tune!

+Aur.+ What would you have me do? D'ye think I'm the Dutch virgin, that could live By th' scent of flowers?[214] Or that my family Are descended of cameleons, And can be kept with air? Is this the way To get a husband; to be in danger to be Shut up for house-rent, or to wear a gown Out a whole fashion, or the same jewels twice? Shortly my neighbours will commend my clothes For lasting well, give them strange dates, and cry, "Since your last gorget and the blazing star."

+Plot.+ Prythee, excuse me, sister, I can now Rain showers of silver into thy lap again. My uncle's gone to sea, and has left me The key to th' golden fleece. Thou shalt be still A madam, Pen; and to maintain thy honour, And to new-dub thee, take this. [_Gives her a purse._ But, sister, I Expected you ere this, out of the throng Of suitors that frequent you, should have been Made a true lady--not one in type or show. I fear you are too scornful, look too high.

+Aur.+ Faith, brother, 'tis no age to be put off With empty education; few will make jointures To wit or good parts. I may die a virgin, When some old widow, which at every cough Resigns some of her teeth, and every night Puts off her leg as duly as French hood, Scarce wears her own nose, hath no eyes but such As she first bought in Broad Street, and every morning Is put together like some instrument, Having full coffers, shall be woo'd, and thought A youthful bride.

+Plot.+ Why, sister, will you like A match of my projection? You do know How ruinous our father's fortunes are. Before he broke, you know, there was a contract Between you and young Seathrift. What if I Make it a wedding?

+Aur.+ Marry a fool, in hope To be a Lady Mayoress?

+Plot.+ Why, sister, I Could name good ladies that are fain to find Wit for themselves and knights too.

+Aur.+ I have heard Of one, whose husband was so meek, to be For need her gentleman-usher; and, while she Made visits above stairs, would patiently Find himself business at trey-trip[215] i' th' hall.

+Plot.+ He's only city-bred; one month of your Sharp conversation will refine him; besides, How long will't be ere your dissembled state Meet such another offer?

+Aur.+ Well, brother, you shall dispose of my affections.

+Plot.+ Then some time This afternoon I'll bring him hither: do you Provide the priest: your dining-room will serve As well as the church.

+Aur.+ I will expect you. [_Exeunt several ways._