SCENE II.

_+Plotwell+, +Aurelia+._

+Plot.+ Sister, 'tis so projected, therefore make No more demurs: the life of both our fortunes Lies in your carriage of things well. Think therefore Whether you will restore me, and advance Your own affairs; or else within this week Fly this your lodging, like uncustom'd sinners, And have your coach-horses transform'd to rent; Have your apparel sold for properties,[244] And you return to cut-work. By this hand, If you refuse, all this must happen.

+Aur.+ Well, sir, Necessity, which hath no law, for once Shall make me o' th' conspiracy; and since We are left wholly to our wits, let's show The power and virtue of 'em. If your Bannswright Can but persuade my uncle, I will fit Him with a bride.

+Plot.+ The scene is laid already: I have transform'd an English poet into A fine French teacher, who shall join your hands With a most learned legend out of Rab'lais.

+Aur.+ But for my true groom who, you say, comes hither For a disguis'd knight, I shall think I wed His father's counting-house, and go to bed To so much bullion of a man. Faith, I've No mind to him: brother, he hath not wit enough To make't a lawful marriage.

+Plot.+ Y' are deceiv'd: I'll undertake, by one week's tutoring, And carrying him to plays and ordinaries, Engaging him in a quarrel or two, and making Some captain beat him, to render him a most Accomplish'd gallant. Or say he be born, sister, Under the city-planet, pray, what wise lady Desires to match a wise knight? You'd marry some Philosopher now, that should every night Lie with you out of Aristotle, and loose Your maidenhead by demonstration. Or some great statesman, before whom you must sit As silent and reserv'd, as if your looks Had plots on foreign princes; and must visit And dress yourself by Tacitus. What he wants In naturals, his fortunes will make up In honours, Pen. When he's once made a lord, Who'll be so saucy as to think he can Be impotent in wisdom? She that marries A fool is an Hermaphrodite; the man And wife too, sister. Besides, 'tis now too late; He'll be here presently, and comes prepar'd For Hymen. I took up a footman for him, And left him under three tiremen's hands, besides Two barbers.

+Aur.+ Well, sir, I must then accept him With all his imperfections. I have Procured a Sir John yonder.

+Plot.+ Who is't?

+Aur.+ One that preaches the next parish once a week Asleep for thirty pounds a year.

_Enter a +Footman+._

+Foot.+ Here is a knight Desires your ladyship will give him audience.

+Aur.+ 'Tis no knight ambassador?

+Foot.+ He rather looks like a Knight o' th' Sun.

+Plot.+ 'Tis he.

+Aur.+ Let him come in.

+Plot.+ If you be coy now, Pen, [_Exit +Footman+._ You spoil all.

+Aur.+ Well, sir, I'll be affable.