SCENE VI.

_Upon these Platonics' private parlance, dalliance, and embraces of the Ladies, Enter_ SIR AMADIN PUNY, SIR JASPER SIMPLETON, SIR ARTHUR HEARTLESS, SIR GREGORY SHAPELESS, SIR TRISTRAM SHORTTOOL, SIR REUBEN SCATTERGOOD, _in a melancholy, discontented mood, with their hats over their eyes_.

SIR AMA. Is this th' platonic law, all things in common?

SIR JAS. Must all forego their wives that are not wise?

SIR ART. Or be divorc'd, because we dare not fight?

SIR GRE. Or lose our mates, because we are not handsome?

SIR TRIS. Nay, 'cause we are not arm'd so well as others be, Forfeit our consort and our fortunes too?

SIR REU. Yes, that's the plague on't. Lose a light-heeled trull-- That in my judgment's nothing; but to lose all Or moiety of that all, or any part at all For a poor nifling[132] toy that's worse than nothing, 'Tis this that nettleth me! I must confess Tinder, that light-skirt, with impetuous heat Sometimes pursu'd me, till that quenchless fire Burst into flames of boundless jealousy, Which cross'd mine humour; for variety Relish'd my palate. Phoenix' brains be rare; But if our dishes had no other fare, They would offend the stomach, and so sate it, As grosser meats would give a better taste: Such was my surfeit to a marriage-bed; My fortunes I prefer before her beauty, Or what may most content the appetite. Money will purchase wenches; but this want-- This roguish thing called want--makes wanton thoughts Look much unlike themselves: 'tis this white metal Enliveneth spirits, knits our arteries Firm as Alcides. He that binds himself Apprentice to his wife merely for love, May he, pen-feathered widgeon, forfeit's freedom, With whatsoe'er is dearest to the vogue Of his affections. She were a rare piece That could engage me, or oblige me hers With all those ceremonial rites which Flamens use To Hymen's honour. Beauty, still say I, Will breed a surfeit, be it ne'er so choice Nor eye-attractive. I should choose a grave Before one mistress all mine interest have. O my alimony, alimony! this is the goad that only prickles me.

PLA. Those be your husbands, ladies;--how pitifully they look?

LADIES. Alas, poor cuckolds!

KNIGHTS. Ladies, we were sometimes your husbands.

[_These Platonics discover the Knights, and scornfully eye them._

LADIES. True, You were so: but your known defects have raz'd That style of wedlock, and enfranchis'd us From that tyrannic yoke. We're now our own; Nor shall our beds by you be henceforth known.

SIR AMA. What have I done?

FRI. Nothing, Sir Amadin. And that's sufficient to divide us two. Your puny years must grow in strength and sinews To prove you man, before you can partake In my enjoyments; the court has so decreed, And by resentment of that injury Your blooming youth, unripened for delight, Has done to me, your hapless virgin bride, Held fit to number me amongst these ladies, All different sufferers; and for supportance (As everything, you know, would gladly live) Allots us alimony.

FLO. So his score is paid.

[_Aside._

SIR JAS. Madam, look on Sir Jasper.

CAV. Honest simpleton, And so I will, just as the fowler is wont On a catch'd dottrel; till your wasted brain Rise to more growth, I from my widow'd bed Will rise untouch'd: these breasts shall never give Their nursing teats unto a brood of fools.

CAR. So, good Sir Jasper, you've your doom in folio.[133]

[_Aside._

SIR ART. Receive me, dear Julippe.

JUL. For what end? Have you stol'n from your colours? O, I hate A coward worser than a maidenhead Basely bestow'd. These Paphlagonian birds-- These heartless partridges--shall never nestle Under my feathers. Till your spirit revive, And look like man, disclaim your interest And injur'd title in Julippe.

PAL. So; He must first learn to fight, ere she to love.

[_Aside._

JOC. What would Sir Gregory?

SIR GRE. That you would love me.

JOC. No; you must cast your slough first: can you see Ought in yourself worth loving? Have you ever, Since our unhappy meeting, us'd a glass, And not been startled in the sad perusal Of your affrightful physnomy? Sir, hear me; And let me beg your patience, if you hear Aught may disrelish you. When th' camel shall Trans-shape himself into a nimble weasel, Or such-like active creature, and this bunch, Which Nemesis has on your shoulders pitch'd (This bunch of grapes, I mean) shall levell'd be,

[_She lays her hand upon his shoulders._

And brought into proportion by a press Equally squeezing, till it shall retain Adonis' feature, I shall value you, And hug you for my consort. But till then Excuse my strangeness.

SAL. So; his cause is heard: He must unshape himself to gain her love.

MED. Sir Tristram Shorttool, have you ought to do In this pursuit of fancy?

SIR TRIS. Something, madam.

MED. But to small[134] purpose. Sir Tristram, you have been A man of reading, and on winter nights You told me tales (for that was all[135] you did), What strange adventures and what gallant acts Redoubted knights did for their ladies' sakes; But what did you for Medler all the while? Did you e'er toss a pike or brandish blade For her dear sake? Go to, I shall conceal, And with a modest, bashful veil enshroud What sense bids me discover. Let me, sir, Advise you as a friend; for other styles, Relating to an husband, I shall never Henceforth resent them with a free comply: Love suits not well with your decrepit age; Let it be your chief care t' intend your health; Use caudles, cordials, julips, pectorals; Keep your feet warm; bind up your nape o' th' neck Close against chilling airs, that you may live An old man long; but take especial care You button on your nightcap.

MOR. After th' new fashion With his loave-ears[136] without it.

[_Aside._

MED. This is all-- Only your absence.

MOR. So good night, Sir Tristram.

[_Aside._

SIR REU. Sweet Madam Tinder.

[SIR REUBEN _offers to kiss her_.

TIN. Keep your distance, sir; I love not to be touch'd.

SIR REU. Are you so hot, My tender tinder?

TIN. No, sir; look to the clime Where you inhabit; there's the torrid zone.

TIL. Yea, there goes the hare[137] away!

[_Aside._

SIR REU. Can you not love?

TIN. Not one that loves so many.

SIR REU. 'Las, pretty peat!

[_Offers to touch her._

TIN. Pray, sir, hold off your hand; Truck with your low-pric'd traders; I must tell you Mine honour's higher rated.

SIR REU. Be it so; I wish you would disclaim your alimony With that indiff'rent touch as you do love, You should not need a dispensation, madam; It should be granted unpetitioned!

TIN. I'm confident it would; nor shall the coolness Of your affection bring me to an ebb Of favour with myself. Plant where you please, I'll henceforth scorn to hug my own disease.

TIL. So, Sir Reuben's despatched, and, like a ranger, may tappis[138] where he likes.

[_Aside._

SIR REU. But hark you, madam; what be these brave blades That thus accoutre you? Are they your Platonics, Hectors, or champion-haxters,[139] pimps or palliards, Or your choice cabinet-confidants?

TIN. You may exact accompt from them.

SIR REU. No, but I will not; Long since I've heard a proverb made me wise, And arm'd me cap-a-pie 'gainst such accounts: "Whos'e'er he be that tugs with dirty foes, He must be soil'd, admit he win or lose."

TIN. Shall I acquaint them with your adage, sir?

SIR REU. Do, if you please.

TIN. No, sir, I am too tender Of your endanger'd honour. Should a baffle Engage your fame, and I the instrument, It would disgust me.

SIR REU. You are wondrous kind; But, pray you, tell me, is this favourite, Or turnkey of your council, in the rank Of generous Hectors? I would be resolv'd, For it concerns me.

TIN. Pray, good sir, as how?

SIR REU. Since 'tis my fate, I would be branched nobly, Lest mine adulterate line degenerate, And raze the ancient splendour of mine house, As many noble families have done By mixing with inferior apple-squires, Grooms, pages, ushers, which in time begot Such middle wits in this our middle region, None could distinguish them from Corydons, Nor well discover whence they might derive Their prime descent, unless it were by th' crest Their footmen wore, or what their coach presented In its rear quarter. All your Sir Reuben begs Aims mainly at your honour's privilege, Which shielded, I'm secure; and it is this: "Let choice hands meddle with your tinder-box!"

TIN. Make that your least of fears. We'll keep our fame, Amidst this freedom, still unblemished.

KNIGHTS. So we have all receiv'd their final answers.

SIR REU. Now[140] do I mean to draw up my rejoinder. "He who will lose his wits or break his heart For such a wench as will not take his part, And will not shun what he may safely fly, May he a Bedlam or a beggar die!"

KNIGHTS. Farewell, inconstant ladies.

LADIES. Adieu, constant Acteons.

[_Exeunt omnes, the Ladies ushered in by their Confidants._