The guardian, a comedie acted before Prince Charls, His Highness at Trinity-Colledg in Cambridge, upon the twelfth of March, 1641
Cowley, Abraham, 1618-1667.
Act. 2. Scaen. 8.
Blade, Widow, Tabytha, Cutter, Dogrel, Lucia.
Luc.
Dearest Uncle,
I come to beg one boon of you, the last
Which you can grant me, or I need to wish.
Bla.
Speak, gentle Neece.
Luc.
That since the love 'twixt Truman and my self
Hath been so fixt, and (as our fortunes) equal,
You will be pleas'd to seal with your last breath
The confirmation of our loves, our Con∣tract:
And when your soul shall meet in heav'n my fathers,
As soon as he has bid you welcome thither,
He'll thank you for our marriage.
Bla.
Oh by all means: where's gentle M. Truman? He's sorry for my death, good man, I warrant ye. Weep not for me, dear Page [unnumbered] Neece, I know it greives you. Where's loving Mr. Truman?
Luc.
Without Sir, waiting on your will, as on the voice of his good fate.
Bla.
Pray call him in.
Exit Luc.
Sirrah, fetch two or three more of my knaves in.
Dog.
Oh the dissembling of these women; they're like a folded picture, that every di∣versity of light represents diversly.
Bla.
Hang all women beside you and your daughter, widow: I could almost like Ma∣homets religion, for turning all the sex out of Heaven.
