SCENE III.

_Enter_ Rosalura, _and_ Oriana.

_Ros._ Ne'r vex your self, nor grieve; ye are a fool then.

_Or._ I am sure I am made so: yet before I suffer Thus like a girl, and give him leave to triumph--

_Ros._ You say right; for as long as he perceives ye Sink under his proud scornings, he'll laugh at ye: For me secure your self; and for my Sister, I partly know her mind too: howsoever To obey my Father we have made a tender Of our poor beauties to the travel'd _Monsieur_; Yet two words to a bargain; he slights us As skittish things, and we shun him as curious. May be my free behaviour turns his stomach, And makes him seem to doubt a loose opinion. I must be so sometimes, though all the world saw it.

_Ori._ Why should not ye? Are our minds only measur'd? As long as here ye stand secure.

_Ros._ Ye say true; As long as mine own Conscience makes no question, What care I for Report? That Woman's miserable That's good or bad for their tongues sake: Come let's retire. And get my veil Wench: By my troth your sorrow, And the consideration of mens humorous maddings, Have put me into a serious contemplation.

_Enter_ Mirabel _and_ Belleur.

_Oria._ Come 'faith, let's sit, and think.

_Ros._ That's all my business.

_Mir._ Why standst thou peeping here? thou great slug, forward.

_Bel._ She is there, peace.

_Mir._ Why standst thou here then, Sneaking, and peaking, as thou would'[st] steal linnen? Hast thou not place and time?

_Bel._ I had a rare speech Studied, and almost ready, and your violence Has beat it out of my brains.

_Mir._ Hang your rare speeches, Go me on like a man.

_Bel._ Let me set my Beard up. How has _Pinac_ performed?

_Mir._ He has won already: He stands not thrumming of caps thus.

_Bel._ Lord, what should I ail? What a cold I have over my stomach; would I had some Hum. Certain I have a great mind to be at her: A mighty mind.

_Mir._ On fool.

_Bel._ Good words, I beseech ye; For I will not be abused by both.

_Mir._ Adieu, then, I will not trouble you, I see you are valiant, And work your own way.

_Bel._ Hist, hist, I will be rul'd, I will 'faith, I will go presently: Will ye forsake me now and leave me i'th' suds? You know I am false-hearted this way; I beseech ye, Good sweet _Mirabel_; I'le cut your throat if ye leave me, Indeed I will sweet heart.

_Mir._ I will be ready, Still at thine elbow; take a mans heart to thee, And speak thy mind: the plainer still the better. She is a woman of that free behaviour, Indeed that common courtesie, she cannot deny thee; Go bravely on.

_Bel._ Madam--keep close about me, Still at my back. Madam, sweet Madam--

_Ros._ Ha; What noise is that, what saucy sound to trouble me?

_Mir._ What said she?

_Bel._ I am saucy.

_Mir._ 'Tis the better.

_Bel._ She comes; must I be saucy still?

_Mir._ More saucy.

_Ros._ Still troubled with these vanities? Heaven bless us; What are we born to? would ye speak with any of my people? Go in, Sir, I am busie.

_Bel._ This is not she sure: Is this two Children at a Birth? I'le be hang'd then: Mine was a merry Gentlewoman, talkt daintily, Talkt of those matters that befitted women; This is a parcel-pray'r-book; I'm serv'd sweetly; And now I am to look too; I was prepar'd for th' other way.

_Ros._ Do you know that man?

_Oria._ Sure I have seen him, Lady.

_Ros._ Methinks 'tis pity such a lusty fellow Should wander up and down and want employment.

_Bel._ She takes me for a Rogue: you may do well, Madam, To stay this wanderer, and set him a work, forsooth, He can do something that may please your Ladiship. I have heard of Women that desire good breedings, Two at a birth, or so.

_Ros._ The fellow's impudent.

_Oria._ Sure he is crazed.

_Ros._ I have heard of men too, that have had good manners; Sure this is want of grace; indeed 'tis great pity The young man has been bred so ill; but this lewd Age Is full of such examples.

_Bel._ I am founder'd, And some shall rue the setting of me on.

_Mir._ Ha? so bookish, Lady, is it possible? Turn'd holy at the heart too? I'le be hang'd then: Why this is such a feat, such an activity, Such fast and loose: a veyl too for your Knavery? _O dio, dio!_

_Ros._ What do you take me for, Sir?

_Mir._ An hypocrite, a wanton, a dissembler, How e're ye seem, and thus ye are to be handled. Mark me _Belleur_, and this you love, I know it.

_Ros._ Stand off, bold Sir.

_Mir._ You wear good Cloaths to this end, Jewels, love Feasts, and Masques.

_Ros._ Ye are monstrous saucy.

_Mir._ All this to draw on fools? and thus, thus Lady, Ye are to be lull'd.

_Bel._ Let her alone, I'le swinge ye else, I will 'faith; for though I cannot skill o'this matter My self, I will not see another do it before me, And do it worse.

_Ros._ Away, ye are a vain thing; You have travell'd far, Sir, to return again A windy and poor Bladder: you talk of Women, That are not worth the favour of a common one; The grace of her grew in an Hospital: Against a thousand such blown fooleries I am able to maintain good Womens honours, Their freedoms, and their fames, and I will do it.

_Mir._ She has almost struck me dumb too.

_Ros._ And declaim Against your base malicious tongues; your noises; For they are nothing else: You teach behaviours? Or touch us for our freedoms? teach your selves manners, Truth and sobriety, and live so clearly That our lives may shine in ye; and then task us: It seems ye are hot, the suburbs will supply ye. Good Women scorn such Gamesters; so I'le leave ye, I am sorry to see this: 'faith Sir, live fairly. [_Exit._

_Mir._ This woman, if she hold on, may be vertuous, 'Tis almost possible: we'll have a new day.

_Bel._ Ye brought me on, ye forced me to this foolery; I am asham'd, I am scorn'd, I am flurted; yes, I am so: Though I cannot talk to a woman like your worship, And use my phrases, and my learned figures, Yet I can fight with any man.

_Mir._ Fie.

_Bel._ I can, Sir, And I will fight.

_Mir._ With whom?

_Bel._ With you, with any man; For all men now will laugh at me.

_Mir._ Prethee be moderate.

_Bel._ And I'le beat all men. Come.

_Mir._ I love thee dearly.

_Bel._ I beat all that love, Love has undone me; Never tell me, I will not be a History.

_Mir._ Thou art not.

_Bel._ 'Sfoot I will not; give me room, And let me see the proudest of ye jeer me, And I'le begin with you first.

_Mir._ 'Prethee _Belleur_; If I do not satisfie thee--

_Bel._ Well, look ye do: But now I think on't better, 'tis impossible; I must beat some body, I am maul'd my self, And I ought in justice--

_Mir._ No, no, no, ye are couzen'd; But walk, and let me talk to thee.

_Bel._ Talk wisely, And see that no man laugh upon no occasion; For I shall think then 'tis at me.

_Mir._ I warrant thee.

_Bel._ Nor no more talk of this.

_Mir._ Do'st think I am maddish?

_Bel._ I must needs fight yet; for I find it concerns me, A pox on't, I must fight.

_Mir._ 'Faith thou shalt not. [_Exeunt._

_Actus Tertius. Scena Prima._

_Enter_ De Gard, _and_ Leverdure, _alias_ Lugier.

_De G._ I know ye are a Scholar, and can do wonders.

_Lug._ There's no great Scholarship belongs to this, Sir; What I am, I am; I pity your poor Sister, And heartily I hate these Travellers, These Gim-cracks, made of Mops, and Motions: There's nothing in their houses here but hummings; A Bee has more brains. I grieve, and vex too The insolent licentious carriage Of this out-facing fellow, _Mirabell_, And I am mad to see him prick his plumes up.

_De Gar._ His wrongs you partly know.

_Lug._ Do not you stir, Sir, Since he has begun with wit, let wit revenge it; Keep your sword close, we'll cut his throat a new way. I am asham'd the Gentlewoman should suffer Such base lewd wrongs.

_De Gar._ I will be rul'd, he shall live, And left to your revenge.

_Lug._ I, I, I'le fit him: He makes a common scorn of handsome Women; Modesty, and good manners are his May-games: He takes up Maidenheads with a new Commission; The Church warrant's out of date: follow my Counsel, For I am zealous in the Cause.

_De Gar._ I will, Sir; And will be still directed: for the truth is My Sword will make my Sister seem more monstrous: Besides there is no honour won on Reprobates.

_Lug._ You are i'th' right: The slight he has shew'd my Pupils, Sets me a fire too: go I'le prepare your Sister, And as I told ye.

_De Gar._ Yes all shall be fit, Sir.

_Lug._ And seriously, and handsomely.

_De Gar._ I warrant ye.

_Lug._ A little counsel more.

_De Gar._ 'Tis well.

_Lug._ Most stately. See that observ'd; and then.

_De Gar._ I have ye every way.

_Lug._ Away then and be ready.

_De Gar._ With all speed, Sir. [_Exit._

_Enter_ Lillia, Rosalure, _and_ Oriana.

_Lug._ We'll learn to travel too, may be beyond him. Good day, Fair beauties.

_Lil._ You have beautified us. We thank ye, Sir, ye have set us off most gallantly With your grave precepts.

_Ros._ We expected Husbands Out of your Documents, and taught behaviours; Excellent Husbands, thought men would run stark mad on us, Men of all Ages, and all states: we expected An Inundation of desires, and offers, A Torrent of trim Suitors: all we did, Or said, or purpos'd to be Spells about us, Spells to provoke--

_Lil._ Ye have provoke'd us finely, We follow'd your directions, we did rarely, We were Stately, Coy, Demure, Careless, Light, Giddy, And play'd at all points: This you swore would carry.

_Ros._ We made Love, and contemn'd Love. Now seem'd holy With such a reverent put-on Reservation Which could not miss according to your Principles, Now gave more hope again. Now close, now publick, Still up and down, we beat it like a Billow; And ever those behaviours you read to us, Subtil, and new. But all this will not help us.

_Lil._ They help to hinder us of all Acquaintance, They have frighted off all Friends: what am I better For all my Learning, if I love a Dunce, A handsome dunce? to what use serves my Reading? You should have taught me what belongs to Horses, Doggs, Dice, Hawks, Banquets, Masks, free and fair Meetings, To have studied Gowns and Dressings.

_Lug._ Ye are not mad sure.

_Ros._ We shall be if we follow your encouragements; I'le take mine own way now.

_Lil._ And I my fortune: We may live Maids else till the Moon drop Mil-stones; I see your modest Women are taken for monsters, A Dowry of good breeding is worth nothing.

_Lug._ Since ye take it so to th' heart, pray'ye give me leave yet, And ye shall see how I'le convert this Heretick; Mark how this _Mirabell--_

_Lil._ Name him no more: For, though I long for a Husband, I hate him, And would be marryed sooner to a Monkey, Or to a _Jack_ of Straw, than such a Juggler.

_Ros._ I am of that mind too; he is too nimble, And plays at fast and loose too learnedly For a plain-meaning Woman; that's the truth on't. Here's one too, that we love well, would be angry; And reason why: No, no, we will not trouble ye Nor him, at this time: may he make you happy. We'll turn our selves loose now, to our fair fortunes, And the down-right way.

_Lil._ The winning-way we'll follow, We'll bait, that men may bite fair, and not be frighted; Yet we'll not be carryed so cheap neither: we'll have some sport, Some mad-Morris or other for our mony, Tutor.

_Lug._ 'Tis like enough: prosper your own Devices; Ye are old enough to choose: But for this Gentlewoman, So please her, give me leave.

_Oria._ I shall be glad, Sir, To find a friend, whose pity may direct me.

_Lug._ I'le do my best, and faithfully deal for ye; But then ye must be ruled.

_Oria._ In all, I vow to ye.

_Ros._ Do, do: he has a lucky hand sometimes, I'le assure ye: And hunts the recovery of a lost Lover deadly.

_Lug._ You must away straight.

_Oria._ Yes.

_Lug._ And I'le instruct ye: Here ye can know no more.

_Oria._ By your leave, sweet Ladies, And all our Fortunes, arrive at our own wishes.

_Lil._ Amen, Amen.

_Lug._ I must borrow your man.

_Lil._ 'Pray take him; He is within: to do her good, take any thing, Take us, and all.

_Lug._ No doubt ye may find Takers; And so we'll leave ye to your own disposes. [_Exeunt._

_Lil._ Now which way, Wench.

_Ros._ We'll go a brave way; fear not: A safe, and sure way too: and yet a by-way, I must confess I have a great mind to be married.

_L[i]l._ So have I too, a grudging of good-will that way; And would as fain be dispatch'd. But this _Monsieur Quicksilver_.

_Ros._ No, no: we'll bar him, by, and Main: Let him trample; There is no safety in his Surquedrie: An Army-Royal of women, are too few for him, He keeps a Journal of his Gentleness, And will go near to print his fair dispatches, And call it his triumph over time and women: Let him pass out of memory: what think ye Of his two Companions?

_Lil._ _Pinac_ methinks is reasonable; A little modestie he has brought home with him, And might be taught in time some handsom duty.

_Ros._ They say he is a wencher too.

_Lil._ I like him better: A free light touch or two becomes a Gentleman, And sets him seemly off: so he exceed not, But keep his compass, clear he may be lookt at; I would not marry a man that must be taught, And conjur'd up with kisses; the best game Is plaid still by the best Gamesters.

_Ros._ Fie upon thee! What talk hast thou?

_Lil._ Are not we alone, and merry? Why should we be asham'd to speak what we think? thy _Gentleman_ The tall fat fellow; he that came to see thee.

_Ros._ Is't not a goodly man?

_Lil._ A wondrous goodly! H'as weight enough I warrant thee: Mercy upon me; What a Serpent wilt thou seem under such a S. _George_.

_Ros._ Thou art a fool; give me a man brings Mettle, Brings substance with him; needs no Broths to Lare him: These little fellows shew like Fleas in boxes, Hop up and down, and keep a stir to vex us; Give me the puissant Pike, take you the small shot.

_Lil._ Of a great thing I have not seen a duller, Therefore methinks, sweet Sister--

_Ros._ Peace: he's modest: A bashfulness, which is a point of grace, wench: But when these fellows come to moulding, Sister, To heat, and handling: as I live, I like him;

_Enter_ Mirabel.

And methinks I could form him.

_Lil._ Peace: the Fire-drake.

_Mir._ 'Bless ye sweet beauties: sweet incomparable Ladies: Sweet wits: sweet humours: 'Bless you, learned Lady, And you, most holy Nun; 'Bless your Devotions.

_Lil._ And 'bless your brains, Sir, your most pregnant brains, Sir, They are in Trav[ail], may they be delivered Of a most hopeful Wild-Goose.

_Ros._ 'Bless your manhood: They say ye are a Gentleman of action, A fair accomplish'd man; and a rare Engineer, You have a trick to blow up Maidenheads, A subtle trick, they say abroad.

_Mir._ I have Lady.

_Ros._ And often glory in their Ruines.

_Mir._ Yes forsooth; I have a speedy trick: please you to try it: My Engine will dispatch ye instantly.

_Ros._ I would I were a woman, Sir, fit for ye, As there be such, no doubt, may Engine you too; May with a Counter-mine blow up your valour: But in good faith, Sir, we are both too honest: And the plague is, we can not be perswaded: For, look ye: if we thought it were a glory To be the last of all your lovely Ladies.

_Mir._ Come, come; leave prating: this has spoil'd your Market; This pride, and pufft-up heart, will make ye fast, Ladies, Fast, when ye are hungry too.

_Ros._ The more our pain, Sir.

_Lil._ The more our health, I hope too.

_Mir._ Your behaviours Have made men stand amaz'd; those men that lov'd ye; Men of fair States and parts; your strange conventions Into I know not what, nor how, nor wherefore; Your scorns of those that came to visit ye; Your studied Whim-whams; and your fine set faces: What have these got ye? proud, and harsh opinions: A Travel'd-_Monsieur_, was the strangest Creature, The wildest Monster to be wondred at: His Person made a publique Scoff, his knowledge, (As if he had been bred 'mongst Bears or Bandoggs) Shunn'd and avoided: his conversation snuft at. What Harvest brings all this?

_Ros._ I pray ye proceed, Sir.

_Mir._ Now ye shall see in what esteem a Traveller, An understanding Gentleman, and a Monsieur Is to be held, and to your griefs confess it, Both to your griefs, and galls.

_Lil._ In what I pray ye, Sir? We would be glad to understand your excellence.

_Mir._ Goe on, (sweet Ladies) it becomes ye rarely. For me, I have blest me from ye, scoff on seriously, And note the Man ye mock'd: you, (Lady Learning) Note the poor Traveller, that came to visit ye, That flat unfurnish'd fellow: note him throughly, You may chance to see him anon.

_Lil._ 'Tis very likely.

_Mir._ And see him Courted by a Travell'd Lady, Held dear, and honour'd by a vertuous virgin, May be a Beautie, not far short of yours, neither It may be, clearer.

_Lil._ Not unlikely.

_Mir._ Younger: As killing eyes as yours: a wit as poynant May be, a State to that may top your Fortune; Enquire how she thinks of him, how she holds him; His good parts; in what precious price already; Being a stranger to him, how she courts him; A stranger to his Nation too, how she dotes on him: Enquire of this; be sick to know: Curse, Lady, And keep your chamber: cry, and curse: a sweet one, A thousand in yearly land; well bred; well friended: Travell'd, and highly followed for her fashions.

_Lil._ 'Bless his good fortune, Sir.

_Mir._ This scurvy fellow; I think they call his name _Pinac_; this serving-man That brought ye Venison, as I take it, Madam; Note but this Scab; 'tis strange that this course creature, That has no more set off, but his jugglings, His travell'd tricks.

_Lil._ Good, Sir, I grieve not at him, Nor envy not his fortune: yet I wonder, He's handsom; yet I see no such perfection.

_Mir._ Would I had his fortune: for 'tis a woman Of that sweet temper'd nature, and that judgment, Besides her state, that care, clear understanding, And such a wife to bless him.

_Ros._ Pray ye whence is she?

_Mir._ Of _England_, and a most accomplish'd Lady, So modest that mens eyes are frighted at her, And such a noble carriage. How now Sirrah?

_Enter a_ Boy.

_Boy._ Sir, the great English Lady.

_Mir._ What of her, Sir?

_Boy._ Has newly left her coach, and coming this way, Where you may see her plain: Monsieur _Pinac_, The only man that leads her.

_Enter_ Pinac, Mariana, _and Attendants_.

_Mir._ He is much honored; Would I had such a favour: now vex Ladies, Envy, and vex, and rail.

_Ros._ Ye are short of us, Sir.

_Mir._ 'Bless your fair fortune, Sir.

_Pi._ I nobly thank ye.

_Mir._ Is she married, friend?

_Pi._ No, no.

_Mir._ A goodly Lady; A sweet and delicate aspect: mark, mark, and wonder! Hast thou any hope of her?

_Pi._ A little.

_Mir._ Follow close then: Lose not that hope.

_Pi._ To you, Sir.

_Mir._ Gentle Lady.

_Ros._ She is fair indeed.

_Lil._ I have seen a fairer, yet She is well.

_Ros._ Her clothes sit handsom too.

_Lil._ She dresses prettily.

_Ros._ And by my faith she is rich, she looks still sweeter. A well bred woman, I warrant her.

_Lil._ Do you hear, Sir; May I crave this Gentlewomans name?

_Pi. Mariana_, Lady.

_Lil._ I will not say I ow ye a quarel Monsieur For making me your Stale: a noble Gentleman Would have had more courtesie; at least, more faith, Than to turn off his Mistris at first trial: You know not what respect I might have shew'd ye; I find ye have worth.

_Pi._ I cannot stay to answer ye; Ye see my charge: I am beholding to ye For all your merry tricks ye put upon me, Your bobs, and base accounts: I came to love ye, To wooe ye, and to serve ye; I am much indebted to ye For dancing me off my legs; and then for walking me; For telling me strange tales I never heard of, More to abuse me; for mistaking me, When ye both knew I was a Gentleman, And one deserv'd as rich a match as you are.

_Lil._ Be not so bitter, Sir.

_Pi._ You see this Lady: She is young enough, and fair enough to please me, A woman of a loving mind, a quiet, And one that weighs the worth of him that loves her, I am content with this, and bless my fortune, Your curious Wits, and Beauties.

_Lil._ Faith see me once more.

_Pi._ I dare not trouble ye.

_Lil._ May I speak to your Lady?

_Pi._ I pray ye content your self: I know ye are bitter, And in your bitterness, ye may abuse her; Which if she comes to know, (for she understands ye not) It may breed such a quarrel to your kindred, And such an indiscretion fling on you too; For she is nobly friended.

_Lil._ I could eat her.

_Pi._ Rest as ye are, a modest noble Gentlewoman, And afford your honest neighbours some of your prayers. [_Exit._

_Mir._ What think you now?

_Lil._ Faith she's a pretty Whiting; She has got a pretty catch too.

_Mir._ You are angry; Monstrous angry now; grievously angry; And the pretty heart does swell now.

_Lil._ No in troth, Sir.

_Mir._ And it will cry anon; a pox upon it: And it will curse it self: and eat no meat, Lady; And it will fight.

_Lil._ Indeed you are mistaken; It will be very merry.

_Ros._ Why, Sir, do you think There are no more men living, nor no handsomer Than he, or you, By this light there be ten thousand? Ten thousand thousand: comfort your self, dear Monsieur, Faces, and bodies, Wits, and all Abiliments There are so many we regard 'em not.

_Enter_ Belleur, _and two Gentlemen_.

_Mir._ That such a noble Lady, I could burst now, So far above such trifles?

_Bel._ You did laugh at me, And I know why ye laughed.

_1 Gent._ I pray ye be satisfied; If we did laugh, we had some private reason, And not at you.

_2 Gent._ Alas, we know you not, Sir.

_Bel._ I'le make you know me; set your faces soberly; Stand this way, and look sad; I'le be no May-game; Sadder; demurer yet.

_Ros._ What's the matter? What ails this Gentleman?

_Bel._ Go off now backward, that I may behold ye; And not a simper on your lives.

_Lil._ He's mad sure.

_Bel._ Do you observe me too?

_Mir._ I may look on ye.

_Bel._ Why do you grin? I know your minde.

_Mir._ You do not, You are strangely humorous: is there no mirth, nor pleasure, But you must be the object?

_Bel._ Mark, and observe me; Where ever I am nam'd; The very word shall raise a general sadness, For the disgrace this scurvy woman did me; This proud pert thing; take heed ye laugh not at me; Provoke me not, take heed.

_Ros._ I would fain please ye; Do any thing to keep ye quiet.

_Bel._ Hear me, Till I receive a satisfaction Equal to the disgrace, and scorn ye gave me: Ye are a wretched woman; till thou woo'st me, And I scorn thee asmuch, as seriously Jear, and abuse thee; ask what Gill thou art; Or any baser name; I will proclaim thee; I will so sing thy vertue; so be-paint thee.

_Ros._ Nay, good Sir, be more modest.

_Bel._ Do you laugh again? Because ye are a woman ye are lawless, And out of compass of an honest anger.

_Ros._ Good Sir, have a better belief of me.

_Lil._ Away dear Sister. [_Exit._

_Mir._ Is not this better now, this seeming madness, Than falling out with your friends?

_Bel._ Have I not frighted her?

_Mir._ Into her right wits, I warrant thee: follow this humor, And thou shalt see how prosperously 'twill guide thee.

_Bel._ I am glad I have found a way to woo yet, I was afraid once I never should have made a civil Suiter. Well, I'le about it still. [_Exit._

_Mir._ Do, do, and prosper. What sport do I make with these fools! What pleasure Feeds me, and fats my sides at their poor innocence!

_Enter_ Leverduce, _alias_ Lugier, _Mr._ Illiard.

Wooing and wiving, hang it: give me mirth, Witty and dainty mirth: I shall grow in love sure With mine own happy head. Who's this? To me, Sir? What youth is this?

_Lev._ Yes, Sir, I would speak with you, If your name be Monsieur _Mirabel_.

_Mir._ Ye have hit it, Your business, I beseech ye?

_Lev._ This it is, Sir, There is a Gentlewoman hath long time affected ye, And lov'd ye dearly.

_Mir._ Turn over, and end that story, 'Tis long enough: I have no faith in women, Sir.

_Lev._ It seems so, Sir: I do not come to woo for her, Or sing her praises, though she well deserve 'em, I come to tell ye, ye have been cruel to her, Unkind and cruel, falser of faith, and careless, Taking more pleasure in abusing her, Wresting her honour to your wild disposes, Than noble in requiting her affection: Which, as ye are a man, I must desire ye (A Gentleman of rank) not to persist in, No more to load her fair name with your injuries.

_Mir._ Why, I beseech ye, Sir?

_Lev._ Good Sir, I'le tell ye, And I'le be short: I'le tell ye, because I love ye, Because I would have you shun the shame may follow: There is a noble man, new come to Town, Sir, A noble and a great man that affects her, A Cou[n]trey-man of mine, a brave _Savoyan_, Nephew to th'Duke, and so much honours her, That 'twill be dangerous to pursue your old way, To touch at any thing concerns her honour, Believe, most dangerous: her name is _Oriana_, And this great man will marry her: take heed, Sir; For howsoe'r her Brother, a staid Gentleman, Lets things pass upon better hopes, this Lord, Sir, Is of that fiery, and that poynant metal, (Especially provok'd on by affection) That 'twill be hard: but you are wise.

_Mir._ A Lord, Sir?

_Lev._ Yes, and a noble Lord.

_Mir._ 'Send her good fortune, This will not stir her Lord; a Barronness, Say ye so; say ye so? by'r Lady, a brave title; Top, and top gallant now; 'save her great Ladiship. I was a poor servant of hers, I must confess, Sir, And in those daies, I thought I might be jovy, And make a little bold to call into her: But Basto, now; I know my rules and distance; Yet, if she want an Usher; such an implement; One that is throughly pac'd; a clean made Gentleman; Can hold a hanging up; with approbation Plant his hat formally, and wait with patience I do beseech you, Sir.

_Lev._ Sir, leave your scoffing; And as ye are a Gentleman, deal fairly: I have given ye a friends counsel, so I'le leave ye.

_Mir._ But hark ye, hark ye, Sir; is't possible I may believe what you say?

_Lev._ You may chuse, Sir.

_Mir._ No Baits? No Fish-hooks, Sir? No Gins? No Nooses? No Pitfals to catch Puppies?

_Lev._ I tell ye certain; You may believe; if not, stand to the danger. [_Exeunt._

_Mir._ A Lord of _Savoy_ saies he? The Dukes Nephew? A man so mighty? By 'Lady a fair marriage; By my faith, a handsom fortune: I must leave prating; For to confess the truth, I have abused her, For which I should be sorry, but that will seem scurvy; I must confess, she was ever since I knew her As modest, as she was fair: I am sure she lov'd me; Her means good; and her breeding excellent; And for my sake she has refus'd fair matches: I may play the fool finely. Stay who are these?

_Enter_ De-Gard, Oriana, _and Attendants_.

'Tis she, I am sure; and that the Lord it should seem, He carries a fair Port; is a handsom man too: I do begin to feel, I am a Coxcomb.

_Ori._ Good my Lord, chuse a nobler: for I know I am so far below your rank and honour, That what ye can say this way, I must credit But spoken to beget your self sport: Alas, Sir, I am so far off from deserving you, My beauty so unfit for your Affection, That I am grown the scorn of common Railers, Of such injurious things, that when they cannot Reach at my person, lie with my reputation: I am poor besides.

_de-Ga._ Ye are all wealth and goodness; And none but such as are the scum of men, The Ulcers of an honest state; Spight-weavers, That live on poyson only, like swoln spiders, Dare once profane such excellence, such sweetness.

_Mir._ This man speaks loud indeed.

_de-Ga._ Name but the men, Lady; Let me but know these poor, and base depravers; Lay but to my revenge their persons open, And you shall see how suddenly, how fully For your most beauteous sake, how direfully I'le handle their despights. Is this thing one? Be what he will.

_Mir._ Sir.

_de-Ga._ Dare your malicious tongue, Sir?

_Mir._ I know you not; nor what you mean.

_Ori._ Good my Lord.

_de-Ga._ If he, or any he.

_Ori._ I beseech your honour. This Gentleman's a stranger to my knowledge, And no doubt, Sir, a worthy man.

_de-Ga._ Your mercy; But had he been a tainter of your honour; A blaster of those beauties raign within ye; But we shall find a fitter time: dear Lady, As soon as I have freed ye from your Guardian, And done some honour'd offices unto ye, I'le take ye with those faults the world flings on ye; And dearer than the whole world I'le esteem ye. [_Exeunt._

_Mir._ This is a thundring Lord; I am glad I scap'd him: How lovingly the wench disclaim'd my villany! I am vext now heartily that he shall have her; Not that I care to marry, or to lose her; But that this Bilbo-Lord shall reap that Maiden-head That was my due; that he shall rig and top her; I'de give a thousand Crowns now, he might miss her.

_Enter a Servant._

_Ser._ Nay, if I bear your blows, and keep your counsel, You have good luck, Sir; I'le teach ye to strike lighter.

_Mir._ Come hither, honest fellow; canst thou tell me Where this great Lord lies? This _Savoy_ Lord? Thou met'st him; He now went by thee certain.

_Ser._ Yes, he did, Sir; I know him; and I know you are fool'd.

_Mir._ Come hither, Here's all this, give me truth.

_S[e]r._ Not for your mony; (And yet that may do much) but I have been beaten: And by the worshipfull Contrivers beaten, and I'le tell ye; This is no Lord, no _Savoy_ Lord.

_Mir._ Go forward.

_Ser._ This is a Trick, and put upon ye grosly By one _Lugier_; the Lord is Monsieur _de-Gard_, Sir; An honest Gentleman, and a neighbour here; Their ends you understand better than I, sure.

_Mir._ Now I know him. Know him now plain.

_Ser._ I have discharg'd my colours; so God b'y ye, sir. [_Exit._

_Mir._ What a purblinde Puppy was I; now I remember him. All the whole cast on's face, though 'twere umber'd, And mask'd with patches: what a dunder-whelp To let him domineer thus: how he strutted, And what a load of Lord he clapt upon him! Would I had him here again, I would so bounce him, I would so thank his Lordship for his lewd plot: Do they think to carry it away, with a great band made of bird-pots, And a pair of pin-buttockt breeches? Ha! 'Tis he again. He comes, he comes, he comes; have at him.

_Enter_ de-Gard, Oriana, _&c._

_Sings._ My _Savoy_ Lord, why dost thou frown on me? And will that favour never sweeter be? Wilt thou I say, for ever play the fool? _de-Gard_ be wise, and _Savoy_ go to School. My Lord _de-Gard_, I thank ye for your Antick; My Lady bright, that will be sometimes Frantick; You worthy Train, that wait upon this Pair, 'Send you more wit, and they a bouncing Baire And so I take my humble leave of your honours. [_Exit._

_de-Ga._ We are discover'd, there's no remedy _Lilia Biancha_'s man upon my life, In stubbornness, because _Lugier_ corrected him. (A shameless slaves plague on him for a Rascal.)

_Ori._ I was in a perfect hope; the bane on't is now, He will make mirth on mirth, to persecute us.

_de-Ga._ We must be patient; I am vext to the proof too, I'le try once more; then if I fail: Here's one speaks.

_Ori._ Let me be lost, and scorn'd first.

_de-Ga._ Well, we'll consider, Away, and let me shift; I shall be hooted else. [_Exeunt._

_Actus Quartus. Scena Prima._

_Enter_ Lugier, Lilia, _Servants_.

_Lug._ Faint not; but do as I direct ye, trust me; Believe me too, for what I have told ye, Lady, As true as you are _Lilia_, is Authentick; I know it; I have found it; 'tis a poor courage Flies off for one repulse; these Travellers Shall find before we have done, a home-spun wit, A plain _French_ understanding may cope with 'em; They have had the better yet, thank your sweet Squire, here; And let 'em brag: you would be reveng'd?

_Lil._ Yes surely.

_Lug._ And married too?

_Lil._ I think so.

_Lug._ Then be Counsel'd, You know how to proceed: I have other Irons Heating as well as yours: and I will strike Three blows with one Stone home, be rul'd, and happie; And so I leave ye. Now is the time.

_Lil._ I am ready, If he do come to do me.

_Ser._ Will ye stand here, And let the people think, ye are God knows what Mistris? Let Boys, and Prentices presume upon ye?

_Lil._ Pre'thee hold thy peace.

_Ser._ Stand at his dore, that hates ye?

_Lil._ Pre'thee leave prating.

_S[e]r._ 'Pray ye go to th' Tavern. I'le give ye a Pint of wine there, If any of the Mad-cap Gentlemen should come by That take up women upon speciall warrant, You were in a wise case now.

_Enter_ Mirabel, Pinac, Mariana, _Priest_, _Attendants_.

_Lil._ Give me the Garland, And wait you here.

_Mir._ She is here to seek thee, Sirrah. I told thee what would follow; she is mad for thee; Shew, and advance. So early stirring Lady? It shews a busie mind, a fancie troubled: A willow Garland too? Is't possible? 'Tis pity so much beautie should lie mustie, But 'tis not to be help'd now.

_Lil._ The more's my Miserie. Good fortune to ye, Ladie, you deserve it: To me, too late Repentance; I have sought it: I do not envy, though I grieve a little, You are Mistris of that happiness, those Joyes That might have been, had I been wise: but fortune.

_Pi._ She understands ye not, 'pray ye do not trouble her; And do not cross me like a Hare thus, 'tis as ominous.

_Lil._ I come not to upbraid your Levitie Though ye made shew of Love, and though I lik'd ye To claim an interest; we are yet both Strangers, But what we might have been, had you persever'd, Sir, To be an eye-sore to your loving Lady; This garland shews, I give my self forsaken; (Yet she must pardon me, 'tis most unwillingly:) And all the power and interest I had in ye; As I perswade my self, somewhat ye lov'd me; Thus patiently I render up, I offer To her that must enjoy ye: and so bless ye; Only, I heartily desire this Courtesie, And would not be deni'd: to wait upon ye This day, to see ye ty'd, then no more trouble ye.

_Pi._ It needs not, Ladie.

_Lil._ Good Sir, grant me so much.

_Pi._ 'Tis private, and we make no invitation.

_Lil._ My presence, Sir, shall not proclaim it publick.

_Pi._ May be 'tis not in Town.

_Lil._ I have a Coach, Sir, And a most ready will to do you service.

_Mir._ Strike now or never; make it sure: I tell thee, She will hang her self, if she have thee not.

_Pi._ 'Pray ye, Sir, Entertain my noble Mistris: only a word or two With this importunate woman, and I'le relieve ye. Now ye see what your flings are, and your fancies, Your states, and your wild stubborness, now ye [fi]nd What 'tis to gird and kick at mens fair services, To raise your pride to such a pitch, and glory That goodness shews like gnats, scorn'd under ye, 'Tis ugly, naught, a self will in a woman, Chain'd to an over-weening thought, is pestilent, Murthers fair fortune first; then fair opinion: There stands a Pattern, a true patient Pattern, Humble, and sweet.

_Lil._ I can but grieve my ignorance, Repentance some say too, is the best sacrifice; For sure, Sir, if my chance had been so happy, (As I confess I was mine own destroyer) As to have arrived at you; I will not prophesie, But certain, as I think, I should have pleas'd ye; Have made ye as much wonder at my courtesie, My love, and duty, as I have dishearten'd ye, Some hours we have of youth, and some of folly; And being free-born Maids, we take a liberty, And to maintain that, sometimes we strain highly.

_Pi._ Now ye talk reason.

_Lil._ But being yoak'd, and govern'd, Married, and those light vanities purg'd from us; How fair we grow, how gentle, and how tender, We twine about those loves that shoot-up with us! A sullen woman fear, that talks not to ye; She has a sad and darkn'd soul, loves dully: A merry and a free wench, give her liberty; Believe her in the lightest form she appears to ye, Believe her excellent, though she despise ye, Let but these fits and flashes pass, she will shew to ye; As Jewels rub'd from dust, or Gold new burnish'd: Such had I been, had you believ'd.

_Pi._ Is't possible?

_Lil._ And to your happiness, I dare assure ye If True love be accounted so; your pleasure, Your will, and your command had tyed my Motions: But that hope's gone; I know you are young, and giddy, And till you have a Wife can govern with ye, You sail upon this wo[r]ld-Sea, light and empty; Your Bark in danger daily; 'tis not the name neither Of Wife can steer ye; but the noble nature, The diligence, the care, the love, the patience, She makes the Pilot, and preserves the Husband, That knows, and reckons every Rib he is built on; But this I tell ye, to my shame.

_Pin._ I admire ye, And now am sorry, that I aim beyond ye.

_Mir._ So, so, so, fair and softly. She is thine own, Boy, She comes now, without Lure.

_Pin._ But that it must needs Be reckon'd to me as a wantonness, Or worse, a madness, to forsake a Blessing, A Blessing of that hope.

_Lil._ I dare not urge ye, And yet, dear Sir.

_Pin._ 'Tis most certain, I had rather, If 'twere in my own choice, for you are my country-woman, A Neighbour, here born by me, she a Stranger; And who knows how her friends?

_Lil._ Do as you please, Sir, If ye be fast; not all the World; I love ye, 'Tis most true, and clear, I would perswade ye; And I shall love you still.

_Pin._ Go, get before me; So much you have won upon me; do it presently: Here's a Priest ready; I'll have you.

_Lil._ Not now, Sir, No, you shall pardon me; advance your Lady, I dare not hinder your most high Preferment, 'Tis honour enough for me I have unmask'd ye.

_Pin._ How's that?

_Lil._ I have caught ye, Sir, alas, I am no States-woman, Nor no great Traveller, yet I have found ye, I have found your Lady too, your beauteous Lady; I have found her birth and breeding too, her discipline; Who brought her over, and who kept your Lady; And when he laid her by, what vertuous Nunnery Receiv'd her in; I have found all these: are ye blank now? Methinks such travel'd wisdoms should not fool thus; Such excellent indiscretions.

_Mir._ How could she know this?

_Lil._ 'Tis true, she's English born, but most part French now, And so I hope you'll find her, to your comfort, Alas, I am ignorant of what she cost ye; The price of these hired cloaths I do not know Gentlemen; Those Jewels are the Brokers, how ye stand bound for 'em.

_Pin._ Will you make this good?

_Lil._ Yes, yes, and to her face, Sir, That she is an Engl[i]sh Whore, a kind of fling dust, One of your _London_ Light o' Loves; a right one, Came over in thin Pumps, and half a Petticoat, One Faith, and one Smock, with a broken Haberdasher; I know all this without a Conjurer; Her name is jumping-_Joan_, an ancient Sin-Weaver; She was first a Ladies Chamber-maid, there slip'd And broke her leg above the knee; departed And set up shop her self. Stood the fierce Conflicts Of many a furious Term; there lost her colours, And last ship'd over hither.

_Mir._ We are betray'd.

_Lil._ Do you come to fright me with this mystery? To stir me with a stink none can endure, Sir? I pray ye proceed, the Wedding will become ye; Who gives the Lady? you? an excellent Father; A careful man, and one that knows a Beauty, 'Send ye fair Shipping, Sir, and so I'll leave ye, Be wise and manly, then I may chance to love ye. [_Exit._

_Mir._ As I live I am asham'd, this wench has reach'd me, Monstrous asham'd, but there's no remedy, This skew'd eye'd Carrion.

_Pin._ This I suspected ever, Come, come, uncase, we have no more use of ye; Your Cloaths must back again.

_Mar._ Sir, ye shall pardon me; 'Tis not our English use to be degraded; If you will visit me, and take your venture, You shall have pleasure for your properties; And so sweet heart.

_Mir._ Let her go, and the Devil go with her; We have never better luck with these preludiums; Come, be not daunted; think she is but a woman, And let her have the Devils wit, we'll reach her. [_Exeunt._