SCENE II.

_Enter_ Pinac, _and a Servant_.

_Pinac._ Art thou her servant, saist thou?

_Ser._ Her poor creature, But servant to her horse, Sir.

_Pinac._ Canst thou shew me The way to her chamber? or where I may conveniently See her, or come to talk to her?

_Ser._ That I can, Sir; But the question is whether I will or no.

_Pinac._ Why I'le content thee.

_Ser._ Why I'le content thee then; now ye come to me.

_Pi._ There's for your diligence.

_Ser._ There's her chamber, Sir; And this way she comes out; stand ye but here, Sir, You have her at your prospect, or your pleasure.

_Pi._ Is she not very angry?

_Ser._ You'l find that quickly: May be she'll call ye sawcy scurvey fellow, Or some such familiar name: 'may be she knows ye, And will fling a Piss-pot at ye, or a Pantofle, According as ye are in acquaintance: if she like ye, 'May be she'll look upon ye, 'may be no, And two moneths hence call for ye.

_Pinac._ This is fine. She is monstrous proud then?

_Ser._ She is a little haughtie; Of a small body, she has a mind well mounted. Can ye speak Greek?

_Pinac._ No, certain.

_Ser._ Get ye gone then; And talk of stars, and firmaments, and fire-drakes. Do you remember who was _Adams_ School-master, And who taught _Eve_ to spin? she knows all these, And will run ye over the beginning o'th' world As familiar as a Fidler. Can ye sit seven hours together, and say nothing? Which she will do, and when she speaks, speak Oracles; Speak things that no man understands, nor her self neither.

_Pi._ Thou mak'st me wonder.

_Ser._ Can ye smile?

_Pi._ Yes willingly: For naturally I bear a mirth about me.

_Ser._ She'l ne'r endure ye then; she is never merry; If she see one laugh, she'll swound past _Aqua vitæ_: Never come near her, Sir; if ye chance to venture, And talk not like a Doctor, you are damn'd too; I have told enough for your crown, and so good speed ye. [_Ex._

_Pi._ I have a pretty task, if she be thus curious, As sure it seems she is; if I fall off now, I shall be laugh'd at fearfully; if I go forward, I can but be abus'd, and that I look for, And yet I may hit right, but 'tis unlikely. Stay, in what mood and figure shall I attempt her? A careless way? no, no, that will not waken her; Besides, her gravity will give me line still, And let me lose my self; yet this way often Has hit, and handsomly. A wanton method? I, if she give it leave to sink into her consideration; But there's the doubt: if it but stir her blood once, And creep into the crannies of her phansie, Set her a gog: but if she chance to slight it, And by the pow'r of her modesty fling it back, I shall appear the arrantst Rascal to her, The most licentious knave, for I shall talk lewdly. To bear my self austerely? rate my words, And fling a general gravitie about me, As if I meant to give Laws? but this I cannot do, This is a way above my understanding; Or if I could, 'tis odds she'll think I mock her; For serious and sad things are ever still suspicious. Well, I'le say something. But learning I have none, and less good manners, Especially for Ladies; well, I'le set my best face;

_Enter_ Lilia, Petella.

I hear some coming; this is the first woman I ever fear'd yet, the first face that shakes me,

_Li._ Give me my hat _Petella_, take this veil off, This sullen cloud, it darkens my delights; Come wench be free, and let the Musick warble, Play me some lusty measure.

_Pi._ This is she sure, The very same I saw, the very woman, The Gravitie I wonder'd at: Stay, stay, Let me be sure; ne'r trust me, but she danceth, Summer is in her face now, and she skippeth: I'le go a little nearer.

_Li._ Quicker time fellows,

_Enter_ Mirabel.

I cannot find my legs yet, now _Petella_.

_Pi._ I am amaz'd, I am founder'd in my fancies.

_Mir._ Hah, say ye so; is this your gravitie? This the austeritie ye put upon ye? I'le see more o' this sport.

_Lil._ A Song now; Call in for a merry, and a light Song, And sing it with a liberal spirit.

_Enter a Man._

_Man._ Yes, Madam.

_Lil._ And be not amaz'd Sirrah, but take us for your own company. Let's walk our selves: come wench, would we had a man or two.

_Pi._ Sure she has spi'd me, and will abuse me dreadfully, She has put on this for the purpose; yet I will try her. Madam, I would be loth my rude intrusion, Which I must crave a pardon for--

_Lil._ O ye are welcom, Ye are very welcom, Sir, we want such a one; Strike up again: I dare presume ye dance well: Quick, quick, Sir, quick, the time steals on.

_Pi._ I would talk with ye.

_Lil._ Talk as ye dance.

_Mir._ She'l beat him off his legs first, This is the finest Masque.

_Lil._ Now how do ye, Sir?

_Pi._ You have given me a shrewd heat.

_Lil._ I'le give ye a hundred. Come sing now, sing; for I know ye sing well, I see ye have a singing face.

_Pi._ A fine Modesty! If I could, she'd never give me breath, Madam would I might sit and recover.

_Lil._ Sit here, and sing now, Let's do things quickly, Sir, and handsomly, Sit close wench, close, begin, begin. [_Song._

_Pi._ I am lesson'd.

_Lil._ 'Tis very pretty i'faith, give me some wine now.

_Pi._ I would fain speak to ye.

_Lil._ You shall drink first, believe me: Here's to ye a lusty health.

_Pi._ I thank ye Lady, Would I were off again; I smell my misery; I was never put to this rack; I shall be drunk too.

_Mir._ If thou be'st not a right one, I have lost mine aim much: I thank Heaven that I have scap'd thee; To her _Pinac_; For thou art as sure to have her, and to groan for her-- I'le see how my other youth does; this speeds trimly: A fine grave Gentlewoman, and worth much honour. [_Exit._

_Lil._ Now? how do ye like me, Sir?

_Pi._ I like ye rarely.

_Lil._ Ye see, Sir, though sometimes we are grave and silent, And put on sadder dispositions, Yet we are compounded of free parts, and sometimes too Our lighter, airie, and our fierie mettles Break out, and shew themselves; and what think you of that Sir?

_Pi._ Good Lady sit, for I am very weary; And then I'le tell ye.

_Lil._ Fie, a young man idle? Up, and walk; be still in action. The motions of the body are fair beauties, Besides 'tis cold; ods-me Sir, let's walk faster, What think ye now of the Lady _Felicia_? And _Bella-fronte_ the Dukes fair Daughter? ha? Are they not handsom things? there is _Duarta_, And brown _Olivia_.

_Pi._ I know none of 'em.

_Lil._ But brown must not be cast away, Sir; if young _Lelia_ Had kept her self till this day from a Husband, Why what a Beauty, Sir! you know _Ismena_ The fair Jem of Saint _Germans_?

_Pi._ By my troth I do not.

_Lil._ And then I know you must hear of _Brisac_, How unlike a Gentleman--

_Pi._ As I live I have heard nothing.

_Lil._ Strike me another Galliard.

_Pi._ By this light I cannot; In troth I have sprain'd my leg, Madam.

_Lil._ Now sit ye down, Sir, And tell me why ye came hither, why ye chose me out? What is your business? your errant? dispatch, dispatch! 'May be ye are some Gentlemans man, and I mistook ye, That have brought me a Letter, or a haunch of Venison, Sent me from some friend of mine.

_Pi._ Do I look like a Carrier? You might allow me what I am, a Gentleman.

_Lil._ Cry 'ye mercie, Sir, I saw ye yesterday, You are new come out of Travel, I mistook ye; And how do all our impudent friends in _Italie_?

_Pi._ Madam, I came with duty, and fair courtesie, Service, and honour to ye.

_Lil._ Ye came to jear me: Ye see I am merry, Sir, I have chang'd my copy: None of the Sages now, and 'pray ye proclaim it, Fling on me what aspersion you shall please, Sir, Of wantonness, or wildness, I look for it; And tell the world I am an hypocrite, Mask in a forc'd and borrow'd shape, I expect it; But not to have you believ'd; for mark ye, Sir, I have won a nobler estimation, A stronger tie by my discretion Upon opinion (how e're you think I forced it) Than either tongue or art of yours can slubber, And when I please I will be what I please, Sir, So I exceed not Mean; and none shall brand it Either with scorn or shame, but shall be slighted.

_Pi._ Lady, I come to love ye.

_Lil._ Love your self, Sir, And when I want observers, I'll send for ye: Heigh, ho; my fit's almost off, for we do all by fits, Sir: If ye be weary, sit till I come again to ye. [_Exit._

_Pi._ This is a wench of a dainty spirit; but hang me if I know yet Either what to think, or make of her; she had her will of me, And baited me abundantly, I thank her, And I confess I never was so blur[t]ed, Nor ever so abus'd; I must bear mine own sins; Ye talk of Travels, here's a curious Country, Yet I will find her out, or forswear my facultie. [_Exit._