SCENE III.

_Enter_ La-Castre, Natolet, Lugie[r], Rosa Lieura, Lylia-Biancha.

_La-Cas._ You and your beauteous daughters are most welcome, Beshrew my blood they are fair ones; welcom Beauties, Welcome, sweet Birds.

_Nat._ They are bound much to your courtesies.

_La-Cas._ I hope we shall be nearer acquainted.

_Nat._ That's my hope too. For certain, Sir, I much desire your Alliance: You see 'em, they are no Gypsies, for their breeding, It has not been so coarse, but they are able To rank themselves with women of fair fashion; Indeed they have been trained well.

_Lug._ Thank me.

_Nat._ Fit for the Heirs of that State I shall leave 'em; To say more, is to sell 'em. They say your Son Now he has travell'd must be wondrous curious, And choice in what he takes: these are no coarse ones; Sir, here's a merry wench, let him look to himself, (All heart, i'faith) may chance to startle him; For all his care, and travell'd caution, May creep into his Eye; if he love Gravity, Affect a solemn face, there's one will fit him.

_La-C._ So young, and so demure?

_Nat._ She is my Daughter, Else I would tell you, Sir, she is a Mistriss Both of those manners and that modesty You would wonder at: She is no often Speaker, But when she does, she speaks well; Nor no Reveller, Yet she can dance, and has studied the Court Elements, And sings, as some say, handsomely; if a woman, With the decency of her Sex, may be a Scholar, I can assure ye, Sir, she understands too.

_La-C._ These are fit Garments, Sir.

_Lug._ Thank them that cut 'em; Yes, they are handsome women; they have handsome parts too; Pretty becoming parts.

_La-C._ 'Tis like they have, Sir.

_Lug._ Yes, yes, and handsome Education they have had too, Had it abundantly; they need not blush at it; I taught it, I'll avouch it.

_La-C._ You say well, Sir.

_Lug._ I know what I say, Sir, and I say but right, Sir; I am no Trumpet of their Commendations Before their Father; else I should say farther.

_La-C._ 'Pray ye, what's this Gentleman?

_Nat._ One that lives with me, Sir; A man well bred and learn'd, but blunt and bitter, Yet it offends no wise man; I take pleasure in't: Many fair gifts he has, in some of which That lye most easie to their understandings, H'as handsomely bred up my Girls, I thank him. I have put it to 'em, that's my part, I have urg'd it, It seems they are of years now to take hold on't. He's wondrous blunt.

_La-C._ By my faith I was afraid of him: Does he not fall out with the Gentlewomen sometimes?

_Nat._ No, no, he's that way moderate, and discreet, Sir.

_Ros._ If he did, we should be too hard for him.

_Lug._ Well said Sulphur: Too hard for thy Husbands head if he wear not armour.

_Enter_ Mirabel, Pinac, De-Gard, [Belleur,] _and_ Oriana.

_Nat._ Many of these bickrings, Sir.

_La-C._ I am glad they are no Oracles; Sure, as I live, he beats them, he's so puisant.

_Or._ Well, if ye do forget--

_Mir._ Prithee hold thy peace; I know thou art a pretty wench; I know thou lov'st me, Preserve it till we have a fit time to discourse on't, And a fit place: I'll ease thy heart I warrant thee: Thou seest I have much to do now.

_Or._ I am answer'd, Sir: With me ye shall have nothing on these conditions.

_De-Gard._ Your Father and your friends.

_La-C._ You are welcome home, Sir; 'Bless ye, ye are very welcome: 'Pray know this Gentleman, And these fair Ladies.

_Nat._ Monsieur _Mirabell_, I am much affected with your fair return, Sir; You bring a general joy.

_Mir._ I bring you service, And these bright Beauties, Sir.

_Nat._ Welcome home, Gentlemen, Welcome, with all my heart.

_Bel._ _Pin._ We thank ye, Sir.

_La-C._ Your friends will have their share too.

_Bel._ Sir, we hope They'll look upon us, though we shew like strangers.

_Nat._ Monsieur _De-Gard_, I must salute you also, And this fair Gentlewoman: you are welcome from your Travel too. All welcome, all.

_De-Gard._ We render ye our loves, Sir: The best Wealth we bring home: By your Favours, Beauties, One of these two: you know my meaning.

_Or._ Well, Sir: They are fair and handsom, I must needs confess it; And let it prove the worst, I shall live after it, Whilst I have meat and drink Love cannot starve me; For if I dye o'th' first fit I am unhappy, And worthy to be buried with my heels upward.

_Mir._ To marry, Sir?

_La-C._ You know I am an old man, And every hour declining to my Grave, One foot already in, more Sons I have not, Nor more I dare not seek whilst you are worthy, In you lies all my hope, and all my name, The making good or wretched of my memory, The safety of my state.

_Mir._ And you have provided Out of this tenderness these handsom Gentlewomen, Daughters to this rich man, to take my choice of?

_La-C._ I have, dear Son.

_Mir._ 'Tis true, ye are old, and feebled; Would ye were young again, and in full vigor; I love a bounteous Fathers life, a long one, I am none of those that when they shoot to ripeness, Do what they can to break the boughs they grew on; I wish ye many years and many Riches, And pleasures to enjoy 'em: But for Marriage, I neither yet believe in't, nor affect it, Nor think it fit.

_La-C._ You will render me your reasons?

_Mir._ Yes, Sir, both short and pithy, and these they are: You would have me marry a Maid?

_La-C._ A Maid? what else?

_Mir._ Yes, there be things called Widows, dead mens Wills, I never lov'd to prove those; nor never long'd yet To be buried alive in another mans cold monument. And there be maids appearing, and maids being: The appearing are fantastick things, meer shadows; And if you mark 'em well, they want their heads too; Only the World to cozen misty eyes, Has clapt 'em on new faces. The maids being, A man may venture on, if he be so mad to marry; If he have neither fear before his eyes, nor fortune; And let him take heed how he gathers these too, For look ye, father, they are just like melons, Musk-melons are the emblems of these maids; Now they are ripe, now cut 'em, they taste pleasantly, And are a dainty fruit, digested easily: Neglect this present time, and come to morrow, They are so ripe they are rotten gone, their sweetness Run into humour, and their taste to surfeit.

_La-C._ Why, these are now ripe, Son.

_Mir._ I'll try them presently, And if I like their taste--

_La-C._ 'Pray ye please your self, Sir.

_Mir._ That liberty is my due, and I'll maintain it: Lady, what think you of a handsom man now?

_Ros._ A wholsom too, Sir.

_Mir._ That's as you make your Bargain. A handsom, wholsom man then, and a kind man, To cheer your heart up, to rejoyce you, Lady?

_Ros._ Yes Sir, I love rejoycing.

_Mir._ To lye close to you? Close as a Cockle? keep the cold nights from you?

_Ros._ That will be lookt for too, our bodies ask it.

_Mir._ And get two Boys at every Birth?

_Ros._ That's nothing, I have known a Cobler do it, a poor thin Cobler; A Cobler out of mouldy Cheese perform it, Cabbage, and coarse black Bread; methinks a Gentleman Should take foul scorn to have an awl outname him. Two at a Birth? why, every house-Dove has it: That man that feeds well, promises as well too, I should expect indeed something of worth from. Ye talk of two?

_Mir._ She would have me get two dozen, Like Buttons, at a Birth.

_Ros._ You love to brag, Sir. If you proclaim these offers at your Marriage, You are a pretty timber'd man, take heed. They may be taken hold of, and expected, Yes, if not hoped for at a higher rate too.

_Mir._ I will take heed, and thank ye for your counsel: Father, what think you?

_La-C._ 'Tis a merry Gentlewoman; Will make, no doubt, a good wife.

_Mir._ Not for me: I marry her, and happily get nothing; In what a state am I then? Father, I shall suffer For any thing I hear to the contrary, _more majorum_, I were as sure to be a Cuckold, Father, A Gentleman of Antler.

_La-C._ Away, away, fool.

_Mir._ As I am sure to fail her expectation, I had rather get the Pox than get her Babies.

_La-C._ Ye are much to blame; if this do not affect ye, 'Pray try the other; she's of a more demure way.

_Bel._ That I had but the audacity to talk thus! I love that plain-spoken Gentlewoman admirably, And certain I could go as near to please her, If down-right doing--she has a per'lous Countenance, If I could meet one that would believe me, And take my honest meaning without circumstance.

_Mir._ You shall have your will, Sir, I will try the other, But 'twill be to small use. I hope, fair Lady (For methinks in your eyes I see more mercy) You will enjoin your Lover a less penance; And though I'll promise much, as men are liberal, And vow an ample sacrifice of service, Yet your discretion, and your tenderness, And thriftiness in Love, good huswives carefulness To keep the stock entire--

_Lil._ Good Sir, speak louder, That these may witness too ye talk of nothing, I should be loth alone to bear the burthen Of so much indiscretion.

_Mir._ Hark ye, hark ye; Ods bobs, you are angry, Lady.

_Lil._ Angry? no, Sir; I never own'd an anger to lose poorly.

_Mir._ But you can love for all this, and delight too, For all your set-austerity, to hear Of a good husband, Lady?

_Lil._ You say true, Sir: For by my troth, I have heard of none these ten years, They are so rare, and there are so many, Sir, So many longing-women on their knees too, That pray the dropping down of these good husbands, The droping down from heaven; for they are not bred [here], That you may guess at all my hope, but hearing--

_Mir._ Why may not I be one?

_Lil._ You were near 'em once, Sir, When ye came over the _Alpes_; those are near Heaven; But since ye miss'd that happiness, there is no hope of ye.

_Mir._ Can ye love a man?

_Lil._ Yes, if the man be lovely; That is, be honest, modest; I would have him valiant, His anger slow, but certain for his honour; Travell'd he should be, but through himself exactly; For 'tis fairer to know manners well than Countries; He must be no vain Talker, nor no Lover To hear himself talk, they are brags of a wanderer, Of one finds no retreict for fair behaviour; Would ye learn more?

_Mir._ Yes.

_Lil._ Learn to hold your peace then, Fond Girls are got with tongues, women with tempers.

_Mir._ Women, with I know what; but let this vanish: Go thy way good Wife _Bias_; sure thy Husband Must have a strong Philosophers stone, he will ne'r please thee else. Here's a starcht piece of austerity; do you hear, Father? Do you hear this moral Lecture?

_La-C._ Yes, and like it.

_Mir._ Why, there's your judgment now; there's an old bolt shot: This thing must have the strangest observation, Do you mark me (father?) when she is married once, The strangest custom too of admiration On all she does and speaks, 'twill be past sufferance; I must not lie with her in common language, Nor cry have at thee, _Kate_, I shall be hiss'd then; Nor eat my meat without the sawce of sentences, Your powder'd Beef, and Problems, a rare diet; My first Son, Monsieur _Aristotle_, I know it, Great Master of the Metaphysicks, or so; The second _Solon_, and the best Law-setter; And I must look _Egyptian_ God-fathers, Which will be no small trouble: my eldest daughter _Sapho_, or such a fidling kind of Poetess, And brought up, _invita Minerva_, at her needle. My dogs must look their names too, and all _Spartan_, _Lelaps_, _Melampus_; no more _Fox_ and _Baudiface_. I married to a sullen set of sentences? To one that weighs her words and her behaviours In the gold-weights of discretion? I'll be hang'd first.

_La-C._ Prithee reclaim thy self.

_Mir._ 'Pray ye give me time then; If they can set me any thing to play at, That seems fit for a Gamester, have at the fairest Till I see more, and try more.

_La-C._ Take your time then, I'll bar ye no fair liberty: come Gentlemen, And Ladies come: to all once more welcome, And now let's in to supper.

_Mir._ How dost' like 'em?

_Pin._ They are fair enough, but of so strange behaviours.

_Mir._ Too strange for me; I must have those have mettle, And mettle to my mind; Come, let's be merry.

_Bel._ 'Bless me from this woman: I would stand the Cannon Before ten words of hers.

_De-Gar._ Do you find him now? Do you think he will be ever firm?

_Or._ I fear not. [_Exeunt._

_Actus Secundus. Scena Prima._

_Enter_ Mirabel, Pinac, Belleur.

_Mir._ Ne'r tell me of this happiness, 'tis nothing; The state they bring with being sought to scurvey, I had rather make mine own play, and I will do. My happiness is in mine own content, And the despising of such glorious trifles, As I have done a thousand more. For my humour, Give me a good free fellow, that sticks to me, A jovial fair Companion; there's a Beauty: For women, I can have too many of them; Good women too, as the Age reckons 'em, More than I have employment for.

_Pin._ You are happy.

_Mir._ My only fear is, that I must be forced Against my nature, to conceal my self. Health, and an able Body are two jewels.

_Pi._ If either of these two women were offered to me now, I would think otherwise, and do accordingly: Yes, and recant my heresies, I would fain, Sir; And be more tender of opinion, And put a little off my travel'd liberty Out of the way, and look upon 'em seriously. Methinks this grave carried wench.

_Bel._ Methinks the other, The home-spoken Gentlewoman, that desires to be fruitful, That treats of the full manage of the matter, For there lies all my aim; that wench, methinks If I were but well set on; for she is a fable, If I were but hounded right, and one to teach me: She speaks to th' matter, and comes home to th' point: Now do I know I have such a body to please her, As all the Kingdom cannot fit her with, I am sure on't, If I could but talk my self into her favour.

_Mir._ That's easily done.

_Bel._ That's easily said, would 'twere done; You should see then how I would lay about me; If I were vertuous, it would never grieve me, Or any thing that might justifie my modesty, But when my nature is prone to do a charitie, And my calfs-tongue will not help me.

_Mir._ Will ye go to 'em? They cannot but take it courteously.

_Pi._ I'le do my part, Though I am sure 'twill be the hardest I e're plaid yet, A way I never try'd too, which will stagger me, And if it do not shame me, I am happy.

_Mir._ Win 'em, and wear 'em, I give up my interest.

_Pi._ What say ye, _Monsieur Bellure_?

_Bel._ Would I could say, Or sing, or any thing that were but handsom, I would be with her presently.

_Pi._ Yours is no venture; A merry ready wench.

_Bel._ A vengeance squibber; She'l fleer me out of faith too.

_Mir._ I'le be near thee; Pluck up thy heart, I'le second thee at all brunts; Be angry if she abuse thee, and beat her a little, Some women are won that way.

_Bel._ Pray be quiet, And let me think: I am resolv'd to go on; But how I shall get off again--

_Mir._ I am perswaded Thou wilt so please her, she will go near to ravish thee.

_Bel._ I would 'twere come to that once: let me pray a little.

_Mir._ Now for thine honour _Pinac_; board me this modesty, Warm but this frozen snow-ball, 'twill be a conquest (Although I know thou art a fortunate Wencher, And hast done rarely in thy daies) above all thy ventures.

_Bel._ You will be ever near?

_Mir._ At all necessities, And take thee off, and set thee on again, Boy; And cherish thee, and stroak thee.

_Bel._ Help me out too? For I know I shall stick i'th' mire: if ye see us close once, Be gone, and leave me to my fortune, suddenly, For I am then determin'd to do wonders. Farewel, and fling an old shooe: how my heart throbs! Would I were drunk: Farewel _Pinac_; Heaven send us A joyfull and a merry meeting, man.

_Pi._ Farewel, And chear thy heart up; and remember _Bellure_ They are but women.

_Bel._ I had rather they were Lyons. [_Exeunt._

_Mir._ About it; I'le be with you instantly.

_Enter_ Oriana.

Shall I ne'r be at rest? no peace of conscience? No quiet for these creatures? Am I ordain'd To be devour'd quick by these she-Canibals? Here's another they call handsom, I care not for her, I ne'r look after her: when I am half tipled It may be I should turn her, and peruse her, Or in my want of women, I might call for her; But to be haunted when I have no fancie, No maw to th' matter--Now, why do you follow me?

_Ori._ I hope, Sir, 'tis no blemish to my vertue, Nor need you (out of scruple) ask that question, If you remember ye, before your Travel The contract you ty'd to me: 'tis my love, Sir, That makes me seek ye, to confirm your memory, And that being fair and good, I cannot suffer: I come to give ye thanks too.

_Mir._ For what 'prethee?

_Ori._ For that fair piece of honesty ye shew'd, Sir, That constant nobleness.

_Mir._ How? for I am short headed.

_Ori._ I'le tell ye then; for refusing that free offer Of _Monsieur Natolets_; those handsom Beauties, Those two prime Ladies, that might well have prest ye, If not to have broken, yet to have bow'd your promise, I know it was for my sake, for your faith sake, You slipt 'em off: your honesty compell'd ye. And let me tell ye, Sir, it shew'd most handsomly.

_Mir._ And let me tell thee, there was no such matter: Nothing intended that way of that nature; I have more to do with my honesty than to fool it, Or venture it in such leak barks as women; I put 'em off, because I lov'd 'em not, Because they are too queazie for my temper, And not for thy sake, nor the Contract sake, Nor vows, nor oaths; I have made a thousand of 'em, They are things indifferent, whether kept or broken; Meer venial slips, that grow not near the conscience; Nothing concerns those tender parts; they are trifles; For, as I think, there was never man yet hop'd for Either constancie, or secrecie, from a woman, Unless it were an Ass ordain'd for sufferance; Nor to contract with such can be a Tial; So let them know again; for 'tis a Justice, And a main point of civil policie, What e're we say or swear, they being Reprobates, Out of the state of faith, we are clear of all sides, And 'tis a curious blindness to believe us.

_Ori._ You do not mean this sure?

_Mir._ Yes sure, and certain, And hold it positively, as a Principle, As ye are strange things, and made of strange fires and fluxes, So we are allow'd as strange wayes to obtain ye, But not to hold; we are all created Errant.

_Ori._ You told me other tales.

_Mir._ I not deny it; I have tales of all sorts for all sorts of women, And protestations likewise of all sizes, As they have vanities to make us coxcombs; If I obtain a good turn, so it is, I am thankfull for it: if I be made an Ass, The mends are in mine own hands, or the Surgeons, And there's an end on't.

_Ori._ Do not you love me then?

_Mir._ As I love others, heartily I love thee, When I am high and lusty, I love thee cruelly: After I have made a plenteous meal, and satisfi'd My senses with all delicates, come to me, And thou shalt see how I love thee.

_Ori._ Will not you marry me?

_Mir._ No, certain, no, for any thing I know yet; I must not lose my liberty, dear Lady, And like a wanton slave cry for more shackles. What should I marry for? Do I want any thing? Am I an inch the farther from my pleasure? Why should I be at charge to keep a wife of mine own, When other honest married men will ease me? And thank me too, and be beholding to me: Thou thinkst I am mad for a Maiden-head, thou art cozen'd; Or if I were addicted to that diet Can you tell me where I should have one? thou art eighteen now, And if thou hast thy Maiden-head yet extant, Sure 'tis as big as Cods-head: and those grave dishes I never love to deal withal: Do'st thou see this book here? Look over all these ranks; all these are women, Maids, and pretenders to Maiden-heads; these are my conquests, All these I swore to marry, as I swore to thee, With the same reservation, and most righteously, Which I need not have done neither; for alas they made no scruple, And I enjoy'd 'em at my will, and left 'em: Some of 'em are married since, and were as pure maids again, Nay o' my conscience better than they were bred for; The rest fine sober women.

_Ori._ Are ye not asham'd, Sir?

_Mir._ No by my troth, Sir; there's no shame belongs to it; I hold it as commendable to be wealthy in pleasure, As others do in rotten sheep, and pasture.

_Enter_ de Gard.

_Ori._ Are all my hopes come to this? is there no faith? No troth? nor modesty in men?

_de [G]a._ How now Sister, Why weeping thus? did I not prophesie? Come tell me why--

_Ori._ I am not well; 'pray ye pardon me. [_Exit._

_de Ga._ Now Monsieur _Mirabel_, what ails my Sister? You have been playing the wag with her.

_Mir._ As I take it, She is crying for a cod-piece; is she gone? Lord, what an Age is this! I was calling for ye, For as I live I thought she would have ravish'd me.

_de Ga._ Ye are merry Sir.

_Mir._ Thou know'st this book, _de Gard_, this Inventory.

_de Ga._ The debt-book of your Mistresses, I remember it.

_Mir._ Why this was it that anger'd her; she was stark mad She found not her name here, and cry'd down-right, Because I would not pity her immediately, And put her in my list.

_de Ga._ Sure she had more modesty.

_Mir._ Their modesty is anger to be over-done; They'l quarrel sooner for precedence here, And take it in more dudgeon to be slighted, Than they will in publique meetings; 'tis their natures: And alas I have so many to dispatch yet, And to provide my self for my affairs too, That in good faith--

_de Gard._ Be not too glorious foolish; Summe not your Travels up with vanities, It ill becomes your expectation: Temper your speech, Sir; whether your loose story Be true, or false (for you are so free, I fear it) Name not my Sister in't; I must not hear it; Upon your danger name her not: I hold her A Gentlewoman of those happy parts and carriage, A good mans tongue may be right proud to speak her.

_Mir._ Your Sister, Sir? d'ye blench at that? d'ye cavil? Do you hold her such a piece, she may not be play'd withal? I have had an hundred handsomer and nobler, Have su'd to me too for such a courtesie: Your Sister comes i'th' rear: since ye are so angry, And hold your Sister such a strong Recusant, I tell ye I may do it, and it may be will too, It may be have too, there's my free confession; Work upon that now.

_de Gard._ If I thought ye had, I would work, And work such stubborn work, should make your heart ake; But I believe ye, as I ever knew ye, A glorious talker, and a Legend maker Of idle tales, and trifles; a depraver Of your own truth; their honours fly about ye; And so I take my leave, but with this caution, Your sword be surer than your tongue, you'l smart else.

_Mir._ I laugh at thee, so little I respect thee; And I'le talk louder, and despise thy Sister; Set up a Chamber-maid that shall out-shine her, And carry her in my Coach too, and that will kill her. Go get thy Rents up, go.

_de Gard._ Ye are a fine Gentleman. [_Exit._

_Mir._ Now have at my two youths, I'le see how they do, How they behave themselves, and then I'le study What wench shall love me next, and when I'le lose her.

[_Exit._