SCENE III.

_Enter +Timothy+ fantastically dressed, and a +Footman+._

+Plot.+ Here he comes!

+Tim.+ Sirrah, wait me in the hall, And let your feet stink there: your air's not fit To be endured by ladies.

+Plot.+ What! quarrel with your footman, sir?

+Tim.+ Hang him, he casts a scent That drowns my perfumes, and is strong enough To cure the mother of palsy. Do I act A knight well?

+Plot.+ This imperiousness becomes you, Like a knight newly dubb'd, sir.

+Tim.+ What says the lady?

+Plot.+ Speak lower. I have prepar'd her; show yourself A courtier: now she's yours!

+Tim.+ If that be all, I'll court her as if some courtier had begot me I' th' gallery at a masque.

+Plot.+ Madam, this gentleman Desires to kiss your hands.

+Tim.+ And lips too, lady.

+Aur.+ Sir, you much honour both.

+Tim.+ I know that, Else I'd not kiss you. Yesterday I was In company with ladies, and they all Long'd to be touch'd by me.

+Aur.+ You cannot cure The evil, sir; nor have your lips the virtue To restore ruins, or make old ladies young?

+Tim.+ Faith, all the virtue that they have is, that My lips are knighted. I am born, sweet lady, To a poor fortune, that will keep myself And footman, as you see, to bear my sword In cuerpo[245] after me. I can at court, If I would, show my gilt[246] i' th' presence; look After the rate of some five thousands Yearly in old rents; and, were my father once Well wrapp'd in sear-cloth, I could fine for sheriff.

+Plot.+ Heart! you spoil all. [_Aside._

+Tim.+ Why?

+Plot.+ She verily believ'd y' had ne'er a father. [_Aside._

+Aur.+ Lives your father then, sir? That gentleman told me he was dead.

+Tim.+ 'Tis true, I had forgot myself: he was drowned, lady, This morning, as he went to take possession Of a summer-house and land in the Canaries.

+Plot.+ Now y' have recovered all.

+Tim.+ D' you think I have Not wit enough to lie? [_Aside._

+Plot.+ Break your mind to her; She does expect it.

+Tim.+ But, lady, this is not The business which I came for.

+Aur.+ I'm at leisure To hear your business, sir.

+Plot.+ Mark that!

+Tim.+ Indeed, Sweet lady, I've a motion which was once Or twice this morning in my mouth, and then Slipp'd back again for fear.

+Aur.+ Cowards ne'er won Ladies or forts, sir.

+Tim.+ Say then I should feel Some motions, lady, of affection, might A man repair Paul's with his heart, or put it Into a tinder-box?

+Aur.+ How mean you, sir?

+Tim.+ Why, is your heart a stone or flint?

+Aur.+ Be plain, sir, I understand you not.

+Tim.+ Not understand me? Y'are the [first] lady that e'er put a man To speak plain English: some would understand Riddles and signs. Say, I should love you, lady!

+Aur.+ There should be no love lost, sir.

+Tim.+ Say you so? Then, by this air, my teeth e'en water at you: I long to have some offspring by you. We Shall have an excellent breed of wits: I mean my youngest son shall be a poet; and My daughters, like their mother, every one A wench o' th' game. And for my eldest son, He shall be like me, and inherit. Therefore Let's not defer our joys, but go to bed And multiply.

+Aur.+ Soft, sir, the priest must first Discharge his office. I do not[247] mean to marry,

_Enter +Dorcas+ out of her Puritan dress._

Like ladies in New England, where they couple With no more ceremony than birds choose their mate Upon St Valentine's day.

+Dor.+ Madam, the preacher Is sent for to a churching, and doth ask If you be ready: he shall lose, he says, His chrysome[248] else.

+Aur.+ O miracle! out of Your little ruff, Dorcas, and in the fashion! Dost thou hope to be saved?

+Dor.+ Pray, madam, do not Abuse me; I will tell you more anon.

+Plot.+ Tell him she's coming.

+Aur.+ Sir, please you, partake Of a slight banquet? [_Exit +Dorcas+._

+Plot.+ Just as you are sat, I'll steal the priest in.

+Tim.+ Do.

+Plot.+ When you are join'd, Be sure you do not oversee, but straight Retire to bed: she'll follow. 'Tis not three o'clock i' th' afternoon.

+Tim.+ 'Tis but drawing Your curtains, and you do create your night. All times to lovers and new-married folks May be made dark.

+Tim.+ I will, then. By this room, She's a rare lady! I do almost wish I could change sex, and that she might beget Children on me.

+Plot.+ Nay, will you enter?

+Tim.+ Lady, Pray, will you show the way?

+Plot.+ Most city-like! 'Slid, take her by the arm, and lead her in.

+Tim.+ Your arm, sweet lady. [_Exeunt._