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.
SCENE II.
Enter Rosalure, and Lugier.
Ros. Ye have now redeem'd my good opinion, Tutor,
And ye stand fair again.
Lug. I can but labour,
And sweat in your affairs; I am sure Belleur
Will be here instantly, and use his anger,
His wonted harshness.
Ros. I hope he will not beat me.
Lug. No sure, he has more manners; be you ready.
Ros. Yes, yes, I am, and am resolv'd to fit him,
With patience to outdo all he can offer;
But how does Oriana?
Lug. Worse, and worse still;
There is a sad house for her: she is now,
Poor Lady, utterly distracted.
Ros. Pity!
Infinite pity! 'tis a handsome Lady,
That Mirabel's a Beast, worse than a Monster,
If this affliction work not.
Enter Lilia Biancha.
Lil. Are ye ready?
Belleur is coming on, here, hard behind me,
I have no leisure to relate my Fortune.
Only I wish you may come off as handsomely,
Upon the sign you know what. [Exit.
Ros. Well, well, leave me.
Enter Belleur.
Bel. How now?
Ros. Ye are welcome, Sir.
Bel. 'Tis well ye have manners:
That Court'sie again, and hold your Countenance stai'dly;
That look's too light; take heed: so, sit ye down now,
And to confirm me that your Gall is gone,
Your bitterness dispers'd, for so I'll have it:
Look on me stedfastly, and whatsoe'r I say unto ye,
Move not, nor alter in your face, ye are gone then:
For if you do express the least distaste,
Or shew an angry wrinkle, mark me, woman,
We are now alone, I will so conjure thee;
The third part of my Execution
Cannot be spoke.
Ros. I am at your dispose, Sir.
Bel. Now rise, and woo me a little, let me hear that faculty:
But touch me not, nor do not lie I charge ye.
Begin now.
Ros. If so mean and poor a Beauty
May ever hope the Grace.
Bel. Ye cog, ye flatter,
Like a lewd thing ye lie: may hope that grace?
Why, what grace canst thou hope for? Answer not,
For if thou dost, and liest again I'll swindge thee:
Do not I know thee for a pestilent Woman?
A proud at both ends? Be not angry,
Nor stir not o' your life.
Ros. I am counsell'd, Sir.
Bel. Art thou not now (confess, for I'll have the truth out)
As much unworthy of a man of merit,
Or any of ye all? Nay, of meer man?
Though he were crooked, cold, all wants upon him:
Nay, of any dishonest thing that bears that figure:
As Devils are of mercy?
Ros. We are unworthy.
Bel. Stick to that truth, and it may chance to save thee.
And is it not our bounty that we take ye?
That we are troubled, vex'd, or tortur'd with ye?
Our meer and special bounty?
Ros. Yes.
Bel. Our pity,
That for your wickedness we swindge ye soundly;
Your stubbornness, and your stout hearts, we be-labour ye,
Answer to that.
Ros. I do confess your pity.
Bel. And dost not thou deserve in thine own person?
(Thou Impudent, thou Pert; do not change countenance.)
Ros. I dare not, Sir.
Bel. For if ye do.
Ros. I am setled.
Bel. Thou Wag-tail, Peacock, Puppy, look on me:
I am a Gentleman.
Ros. It seems no less, Sir.
Bel. And darest thou in thy Surquedry?
Ros. I beseech ye;
It was my weakness, Sir, I did not view ye,
I took no notice of your noble parts,
Nor call'd your person, nor your proper fashion.
Bel. This is some amends yet.
Ros. I shall mend, Sir, daily,
And study to deserve.
Bel. Come a little nearer;
Canst thou repent thy villainy?
Ros. Most seriously.
Bel. And be asham'd?
Ros. I am asham'd.
Bel. Cry.
Ros. It will be hard to do, Sir.
Bel. Cry instantly;
Cry monstrously, that all the Town may hear thee;
Cry seriously, as if thou hadst lost thy Monkey;
And as I like thy tears.
Enter Lilia, and four Women laughing.
Ros. Now.
Bel. How? how? do ye jear me?
Have ye broke your bounds again, Dame?
Ros. Yes, and laugh at ye,
And laugh most heartily.
Bel. What are these, Whirl-winds?
Is Hell broke loose, and all the Furies flutter'd?
Am I greas'd once again?
Ros. Yes indeed are ye;
And once again ye shall be, if ye quarrel;
Do you come to vent your fury on a Virgin?
Is this your Manhood, Sir?
1 Wom. Let him do his best,
Let's see the utmost of his indignation,
I long to see him angry; Come, proceed, Sir.
Hang him, he dares not stir, a man of Timber.
2 Wom. Come hither to fright maids with thy Bul-faces?
To threaten Gentlewomen? Thou a man? A May-pole,
A great dry Pudding.
[3] Wom. Come, come, do your worst, Sir;
Be angry if thou darst.
Bel. The Lord deliver me!
4 Wom. Do but look scurvily upon this Lady,
Or give us one foul word. We are all mistaken,
This is some mighty Dairy-maid in Mans Cloaths.
Lil. I am of that mind too.
Bel. What will they do to me!
Lil. And hired to come and abuse us; a man has manners;
A Gentleman, Civility, and Breeding:
Some Tinkers Trull, with a Beard glew'd on.
1 Wom. Let's search him;
And as we find him.
Bel. Let me but depart from ye,
Sweet Christian-women.
Lil. Hear the Thing speak, Neighbours.
Bel. 'Tis but a small request; if e'r I trouble ye,
If e'r I talk again of beating Women,
Or beating any thing that can but turn to me;
Of ever thinking of a handsome Lady
But vertuously and well; of ever speaking
But to her honour; This I'll promise ye,
I will take Rhubarb, and purge Choler mainly,
Abundantly I'll purge.
Lil. I'll send ye Broths, Sir.
Bel. I will be laugh'd at, and endure it patiently,
I will do any thing.
Ros. I'll be your Bayl then;
When ye come next to woo, 'pray come not boisterously,
And furnish'd like a Bear-ward.
Bel. No in truth, forsooth.
Ros. I scented ye long since.
Bel. I was to blame sure,
I will appear a Gentleman.
Ros. 'Tis the best for ye,
For a true noble Gentleman's a brave thing;
Upon that hope we quit ye. You fear seriously?
Bel. Yes truly do I; I confess I fear ye,
And honour ye, and any thing.
Ros. Farewel then.
Wom. And when ye come to woo next bring more mercy.
[Exeunt.
Enter two Gentlemen.
Bel. A Dairy-maid! a Tinkers-Trull! Heaven bless me!
Sure if I had provok'd 'em, they had quarter'd me.
I am a most ridiculous Ass, now I perceive it:
A Coward, and a Knave too.
1 Gent. 'Tis the mad Gentleman:
Let's set our Faces right.
Bel. No, no, laugh at me;
And laugh aloud.
2 Gent. We are better manner'd, Sir.
Bel. I do deserve it; call me Patch, and Puppy,
And beat me if you please.
1 Gent. No indeed, we know ye.
Bel. 'Death, do as I would have ye.
2 Gent. You are an Ass then;
A Coxcomb, and a Calf.
Bel. I am a great Calf;
Kick me a little now: Why, when? Sufficient:
Now laugh aloud, and scorn me; so good b'ye;
And ever when ye meet me laugh.
1 Gent. We will, Sir. [Exeunt.
SCENE III.
Enter Nantolet, La-Castre, De-Gard, Lugier, Mirabel.
Mir. Your patience, Gentlemen: why do ye bait me?
Nan. Is't not a shame you are so stubborn hearted,
So stony and so dull to such a Lady,
Of her Perfections, and her Misery?
Lug. Does she not love ye? does not her distraction
For your sake only, her most pitied lunacie
Of all but you, shew ye? does it not compel ye?
Mir. Soft and fair, Gentlemen, pray ye proceed temperately.
Lug. If ye have any feeling, any sense in ye,
The least touch of a noble heart.
La Cas. Let him alone;
It is his glory that he can kill Beauty,
Ye bear my Stamp, but not my Tenderness;
Your wild unsavoury Courses set that in ye!
For shame, be sorry, though ye cannot cure her,
Shew something of a Man, of a fair Nature.
Mir. Ye make me mad.
De-Gard. Let me pronounce this to ye,
You take a strange felicity in slighting
And wronging Women, which my poor Sister feels now,
Heavens hand be gentle on her: Mark me, Sir,
That very hour she dies, there's small hope otherwise,
That minute you and I must grapple for it,
Either your life or mine.
Mir. Be not so hot, Sir,
I am not to be wrought on by these policies,
In truth I am not; Nor do I fear the tricks,
Or the high sounding threats of a Savoyan;
I glory not in Cruelty, ye wrong me;
Nor grow up water'd with the tears of Women;
This let me tell ye, howsoe'r I shew to ye,
Wild, as ye please to call it, or self-will'd;
When I see cause I can both do and suffer,
Freely, and feelingly, as a true Gentleman.
Enter Rosalure, and Lilia.
Ros. O pity, pity, thousand, thousand pities!
Lil. Alas poor Soul! she will dye; she is grown sensless;
She will not know, nor speak now.
Ros. Dye for love!
And love of such a Youth! I would dye for a Dog first,
He that kills me I'll give him leave to eat me;
I'll know men better ere I sigh for any of 'em.
Lil. Ye have done a worthy act, Sir; a most famous;
Ye have kill'd a Maid the wrong way, ye are a conqueror.
Ros. A Conquerour? a Cobler; hang him Sowter;
Go hide thy self for shame, go lose thy memory;
Live not 'mongst Men; thou art a Beast, a Monster;
A Blatant Beast.
Lil. If ye have yet any honesty,
Or ever heard of any; take my Counsel;
Off with your Garters: and seek out a Bough,
A handsom Bough; (for I would have ye hang like a Gentleman;)
And write some doleful matter to the World,
A Warning to hard hearted men.
Mir. Out Kitlings:
What Catterwauling's here? what Gibbing?
Do you think my heart is softned with a black Santis?
Shew me some reason.
Enter Oriana on a Bed.
Ros. Here then, here is a reason.
Nant. Now, if ye be a man, let this sight shake ye.
La-C. Alas poor Gentlewoman! do you know me, Lady?
Lug. How she looks up, and stares!
Ori. I know ye very well;
You are my Godfather; and that's the Monsieur.
De-Gar. And who am I?
Ori. You are Amadis de Gaul, Sir.
Oh oh, my heart! were ye never in love, sweet Lady?
And do you never dream of Flowers and Gardens?
I dream of walking Fires; take heed, it comes now;
Who's that? pray stand away; I have seen that face sure;
How light my head is!
Ros. Take some rest.
Ori. I cannot,
For I must be up to morrow to go to Church,
And I must dress me, put my new Gown on,
And be as fine to meet my Love: Heigh ho!
Will not you tell me where my Love lies buried?
Mir. He is not dead: beshrew my heart, she stirs me.
Ori. He is dead to me.
Mir. Is't possible my Nature
Should be so damnable, to let her suffer?
Give me your hand.
Ori. How soft you feel, how gentle!
I'll tell you your fortune, Friend.
Mir. How she stares on me!
Or. You have a flattering face, but 'tis a fine one;
I warrant you may have a hundred Sweet-hearts;
Will ye pray for me? I shall dye to morrow,
And will ye ring the Bells?
Mir. I am most unworthy,
I do confess, unhappy; do you know me?
Mir. Oh fair tears, how ye take me!
Ori. Do you weep too? you have not lost your Lover;
You mock me; I'l go home, and pray.
Mir. 'Pray ye pardon me:
Or if it please ye to consider justly,
Scorn me, for I deserve it: Scorn, and shame me:
Sweet Oriana.
Lil. Let her alone, she trembles;
Her fits will grow more strong if ye provoke her.
La Cas. Certain she knows ye not, yet loves to see ye:
How she smiles now!
[Enter Belleur.]
Bel. Where are ye? Oh, why do [not] you laugh? come, laugh at me;
What a Devil! art thou sad, and such a subject,
Such a ridiculous subject as I am
Before thy face?
Mir. Prithee put off this lightness;
This is no time for mirth, nor place; I have us'd too much on't:
I have undone my self, and a sweet Lady,
By being too indulgent to my foolery,
Which truly I repent; look here.
Bel. What ails she?
Mir. Alas, she's mad.
Bel. Mad?
Mir. Yes, too sure for me too.
Bel. Dost thou wonder at that? by this [good] light they are all so;
They are coz'ning mad, they are brawling mad, they are proud mad:
They are all, all mad; I came from a World of mad Women.
Mad as March-Hares; get 'em in Chains, then deal with 'em.
There's one that's mad; she seems well, but she is dog-mad.
Is she dead dost' think?
Mi[r]. Dead! Heaven forbid.
Bel. Heaven further it;
For till they be key cold dead, there's no trusting of 'em,
Whate'r they seem, or howsoe'r they carry it,
Till they be chap-faln, and their Tongues at peace,
Nail'd in their Coffins sure, I'll ne'r believe 'em,
Shall I talk with her?
Mir. No, dear friend, be quiet,
And be at peace a while.
Bel. I'll walk aside,
And come again anon: but take heed to her,
You say she is a Woman?
Mir. Yes.
Bel. Take great heed:
For if she do not cozen thee, then hang me.
Let her be mad, or what she will, she'll cheat thee. [Exit.
Mir. Away, wild Fool: how vile this shews in him now!
Now take my faith, before ye all I speak it,
And with it, my repentant love.
La-C. This seems well.
Mir. Were but this Lady clear again, whose sorrows
My very heart melts for; were she but perfect
(For thus to marry her would be two miseries,)
Before the richest and the noblest Beauty,
France, or the World could shew me; I would take her
As she is now, my Tears and Prayers shall wed her.
De-Gar. This makes some small amends.
Ros. She beckons to ye,
To us too, to go off.
Nant. Let's draw aside all.
Ori. Oh my best friend; I would fain.
Mir. What? she speaks well,
And with another voice.
Ori. But I am fearful,
And shame a little stops my tongue.
Mir. Speak boldly.
Ori. Tell ye, I am well, I am perfect well: 'pray ye mock not;
And that I did this to provoke your Nature,
Out of my infinite and restless love,
To win your pity; pardon me.
Mir. Go forward;
Who set ye on?
Ori. None, as I live, no Creature;
Not any knew, or ever dream'd what I meant;
Will ye be mine?
Mir. 'Tis true, I pity ye:
But when I marry ye, ye must be wiser:
Nothing but Tricks? Devices?
Ori. Will ye shame me?
Mir. Yes, marry will I: Come near, come near, a miracle;
The Woman's well; she was only mad for Marriage,
Stark mad to be ston'd to death; give her good counsel,
Will this world never mend? are ye caught, Damsel?
Enter Belleur, La-Castre, Lugier, Nantolet, De Gard,
Rosalure, and Bianca.
Bel. How goes it now?
Mir. Thou art a kind of Prophet,
The Woman's well again, and would have gull'd me;
Well, excellent well: and not a taint upon her.
Bel. Did not I tell ye? Let 'em be what can be;
Saints, Devils, any thing, they will abuse us;
Thou wert an Ass to believe her so long, a Coxcomb;
Give 'em a minute they'll abuse whole millions.
Mir. And am not I a rare Physician, Gentlemen,
That can cure desperate mad minds?
De Gar. Be not insolent.
Mir. Well, go thy waies: from this hour, I disclaim thee,
Unless thou hast a trick above this: then I'le love thee.
Ye owe me for your Cure; pray have a care of her,
For fear she fall into Relapse: come Belleur
We'll set up Bills, to Cure Diseased Virgins.
Bel. Shall we be merry?
Mir. Yes.
Bel. But I'le no more projects;
If we could make 'em mad, it were some mastery. [Exeunt.
Lil. I am glad she is well again.
Ros. So am I, certain,
Be not ashamed.
Oria. I shall never see a man more.
De Gar. Come ye are a fool: had ye but told me this trick,
He should not have gloried thus.
Lug. He shall not long neither.
La-C. Be rul'd, and be at peace: ye have my consent,
And what power I can work with.
Nant. Come, leave blushing;
We are your friends; an honest way compell'd ye;
Heaven will not see so true a love unrecompenc'd;
Come in, and slight him too.
Lug. The next shall hit him. [Exeunt.