To the extent possible under law, the Text Creation Partnership has waived all copyright and related or neighboring rights to this keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above, according to the terms of the CC0 1.0 Public Domain Dedication (http://creativecommons.org/publicdomain/zero/1.0/). This waiver does not extend to any page images or other supplementary files associated with this work, which may be protected by copyright or other license restrictions. Please go to http://www.textcreationpartnership.org/ for more information.
MY Fathers' antient, and may repose himself, if he pleases, after the Ceremony of his Entrance; but we, who are younger, should think it a sin, to spend any part of day-light in a Chamber. What are your wayes of living here?
Why Sir, we pass our time, either in conversation alone, or in Love alone, or in Love and Conversation together.
Come, explain, explain, my Counsel learned in the Laws of Living.
For conversation alone; that's either in going to Court, with a Face of Business, and there discoursing of the affairs of Europe, of which, Rome, you know, is the publick Mart; or, at best, meeting the Vertuosi, and there, wearying one another with rehearsing our own works, in Prose and Poetry.
Away with that dry method, I will have none on't. To the next.
Love alone, is either plain wenching, where every Curti∣zan is your Mistriss, and every Man your Rival; or else, what's worse, plain whining after one Woman: that is, walking before her door by day, and haunting her street by night, with Guittars, dark Lan∣thorns, and Rondaches.
Which, I take it, is, or will be our case, Camillo.
Neither of these will fit my humour: if your third prove not more pleasant, I shall stick to the old Almaine recreation; the Divine bottel, and the bounteous glass, that tun'd up old Horace to his Odes.
You shall need to have no recourse to that; for Love, and Conversation will do your business: that is, Sir, a most delicious Curtizan, I do not mean down-right Punk, but Punk of more than ordinary sence in Conversation: Punk in Ragou, Punk who playes on the Lute, and Sings; and, to sum up all, Punk who Cooks and Dresses up her self, with Poynant Sawce, to become a new Dish eve∣ry time she is serv'd up to you.
This I believe, Aurelian, is your method of living, you talk of it so savorily.
There is yet another more insipid sort of Love and Con∣versation: as for example, look you there, Sir; the
But yet they are ever at hand, and easie to come by;
and if you'l believe an experienc'd sinner, easiness in Love is more than half the pleasure of it.
This way of chatting pleases me; for debauchery, I hate it; and, to Love, is not in my nature, except it be my Friends. Pray, What do you call that Nunnery.
'Tis a House of Benedictines, call'd the Torre di Specchi, where only Ladies of the best Quality are Profess'd.
Look you yonder, Sir, are two of the pretty Magpies, in white and black: if you will lull your self into a Platonick Dream you may: but, consider your sport will be but dull, when you play without Stakes.
No matter, I'll fool away an hour of Courtship; for I never yet was engag'd in a serious love, nor I believe can be. Fare∣well, Gentlemen; at this time I shall dispence with your attendance: nay, without Ceremony, because I would be incognito.
Come then, Aurelian, to our own affairs.
For Chastity and Devotion, and two or three such melan∣cholly vertues: they first brought me hither, and now must keep me company.
I should rather have guess'd it had been Murder, and that you are veil'd, for fear of doing more mischief wirh those Eyes: for, indeed, they are too sharp to be trusted out of the Scabbard.
Cease, I beseech you, to accuse my Eyes, till they have done some execution on your heart.
But I am out of reach, perhaps.
Trust not to that; they may shoot at a distance, though they cannot strike you near at hand.
But, if they should kill, you are ne'r the better: there's a Grate betwixt us, and you cannot fetch in the dead Quarry.
Provided we destroy the Enemy, we do not value their dead bodies: but you, perhaps, are in your first error, and think we are ra∣ther Captives than Warriours; that we come like Prisoners to the Grate, to beg the Charity of Passengers for their love.
By this thy question, and by that whisper with thy Lady, (O thou Nymph of Devotion!) I find I am to impart a secret, and not to ask one: therefore, either confess thou art yet a meer Woman un∣der that Veil, and by consequence most horribly inquisitive, or thou shalt lose thy longing, and know nothing of my Master.
By my Virginity, you shall tell first.
You'll break your Oath, on purpose to make the forfeit.
Your Master is call'd—
You Lady is Yclip'd—
For decency, in all matters of Love, the Man should offer first, you know.
That needs not, when the Damsel is so willing.
But I have sworn not to discover first, that her Name is Ma∣dam Lucretia; fair, as you see, to a Miracle, and of a most charm∣ing conversation; of Royal blood, and Neece to his Holiness; and, if she were not espous'd to Heaven, a Mistriss for a Soveraign Prince.
After these Encomiums, 'twere vain for me to praise my Master: he is only poor Prince Frederick, otherwise call'd the Prince of Mantoua; liberal, and valiant, discreet and handsome, and, in my simple judgment, a fitter Servant for your Lady, than his old Fa∣ther, who is a Soveraign.
Dare you make all this good you have said of your Ma∣ster?
Yes, and as much more of my self to you.
I defy you upon't, as my Lady's Second.
As my Masters, I accept it. The time?
Six this evening.
The place?
At this Grate.
The Weapons?
Hands, and it may be Lips.
'Tis enough: expect to hear from me.
Persons, like Prince Frederick, ought not to assault Religi∣ous Houses; or to pursue Chastity and Virtue to their last re∣treat.
A Monastery is no retreat for Chastity; 'tis only a hiding place for bad faces, where they are thrust in Crowds together, like heaps of rubbish out of the way, that the world may not be peo∣pled with deform'd persons, and that such who are out of Play them∣selves, may pray for a blessing on their endeavours, who are getting handsome Children: and carrying on the work for publick be∣nefit.
Then you would put off Heaven with your leavings, and use it like them who play at Cards alone, take the Courts for your selves, and give the refuse to the Gentleman.
You mistake me, Madam; I would so contrive it, that Heaven and we might be serv'd at once: we have occasion for Wit and Beauty; now Piety and Ugliness will do as well for Heaven; that playes at one Game, and we at another, and therefore heaven may make its hand with the same Cards that we put out.
I could easily convince you if the argument concern'd me; but I am one of those, whom, for want of wit and beauty, you have condemn'd to Religion: and therefore am your humble Servant to Pray for your handsome Wife and Children.
Heaven forbid, Madam, that I should condemn you, or indeed any handsome woman, to be Religious. No, Madam; the occasions of the World are great and urgent for such as you: and, for my part, I am of opinion, that it is as great a Sin for a Beauty to enter into a Nunnery, as for an ugly woman to stay out of it.
The Cares of the World are not yet upon you; but as soon as ever you come to be afflicted with Sickness, or visited with a Wife, you'll be content I should pray for you.
Any where, rather than in a Cloyster; for, truly, I suppose, all your Prayers there will be how to get out of it; and, upon that supposition, Madam, I am come to offer you my service for your re∣demption. Come, faith, be perswaded, the Church shall lose no∣thing by it: I'll take you out, and put in two or three Crooked Apostles in your place.
Hark, the Bell rings, I must leave you: 'tis a summons to our Devotion.
Will you leave me for your Prayets, Madam? You may have enough of them at any time, but remember you cannot have a Man so easily.
Well, I'll say my Beads for you, and that's but Charity, for I believe I leave you in a most deplorable condition.
Not deplorable neither, but a little altred: if I could be in Love, as I am sure I cannot, it should be with her, for I like her con∣versation strangely.
Then, as young as I am, Sir, I am before-hand with you; for I am in Love already. I would fain make the first proof of my Man∣hood upon a Nun: I find I have a mighty grudging to Holy Flesh.
I'll ply Lucretia again, as soon as ever her Devotion's over. Methinks these Nuns divide their time most admirably: from Love to Prayers; from Prayers to Love: that is, just so much Sin, just so much Godliness.
I'll proceed no farther, if Benito goes: I know his folly will produce some mischief.
But Violetta desir'd me, in her Note, to bring him, on pur∣pose to pass the time with her Woman Beatrix.
That objection is easily remov'd: I'll supply Benito's place; the darkness will prevent discovery, and, for my discourse, I'll imitate
the half Wit, and patch'd breeding of a Valet de Cham∣bre.
But how shall we get rid of him?
Let me alone for that.
Come, Are we ready, Gallants? the Clock's upon the stroke of Eight.
But we have alter'd our resolution: we go another way to night.
I hope you have not broke my Assignation.
Why do you hope so?
Because my reputation is engag'd in't: I'ave stipulated upon my honour that you shall come.
I shall beat you if you follow me. Go, Sirrah, and adjourn to the great looking-glass, and let me hear no more from you till to morrow morning.
Sir, my fidelity, and, if I may be so vain, my discretion may stand you in some stead.
Well, come along then, they are brave Fellows who have challeng'd us, you shall have fighting enough, Sir.
How, Sir, Fighting?
You may scape with the loss of a Leg, or an arm, or some such transitory limb.
No, Sir; I have that absolute obedience to your com∣mands, that I will bridle my courage, and stay at home.
You took the only way to be rid of him. There's the wall: behind yond pane of it we'll set up the Ladder.
Remember your waiting-womans part, Laura.
I warrant you, I'll wait on you by night as well as I go∣vern'd you by day.
Hark, I hear foot-steps; and now, methinks, I see something approaching us.
They are certainly the Men whom we expect.
I hear Womens voices.
We are right, I warrant you.
Violetta, my Love!
My dear Camillo!
O speak those words again: my own name never sounded so sweetly to me, as when you spoke it, and made me happy by ad∣ding Dear to it.
Speak softly then. I have stoln these few minutes from my watchful Uncle and my Sister, and they are as full of danger as they are of love. Something within me checks me too, and sayes, I was too forward in ventring thus to meet you.
You are too fearful rather, and fear's the greatest enemy to Love.
But night will hide my blushes, when I tell you I love you much, or I had never trusted my virtue and my person in your hands.
The one is sacred, and the other safe; but this auspicious minute is our first of near converse. May I not hope that favour, which strangers, in civility, my claim even from the most reserv'd?
I fear you'll censure me.
Yes, as the blest above tax heaven for making them so happy.
Now, by laudable custome, I am to love thee vehe∣mently.
We should do well to see each other first: You know 'tis ill taking Money without light.
O, but the coyn of Love is known by the weight only, and
you may feel it in the dark: Besides, you know 'tis Prince-like to Love without seeing.
But then you may be serv'd as Princes are sometimes.
Let us make haste however, and dispatch a little Love out of the way: we may do it now with ease, and save our selves a great deal of trouble, if we take it in time, before it grows too fast upon our hands.
Fie, no; let us Love discreetly, we must manage our passi∣on, and not love all our love out at one meeting, but leave some for another time.
I am for applying the Plaister whilst the wound is green, 'twill heal the better.
Let go my hand: What crime has the poor wretch com∣mitted that you press it thus? I remember no mischief it has done you.
O 'tis a hainous malefactour, and is press'd by Law, because it will confess nothing. Come, withdraw a little farther, we have urgent business with one another.
'Twere a shame to quit my ground upon the first charge; yer if you please to take truce a little, I will consent to go behind the Lovers, and listen with you.
I wonder you defer'd the Proposition so long. I were nei∣ther true Valet, nor you true Woman if we could not Eves-drop.
And then will you be satisfy'd?
And then I'll ask a thousand more, and ne'r be satisfy'd. Kisses are but thin nourishment, they are too soon digested, and hun∣gry Love craves more.
You feed a Wolf within you.
Then feast my Love with a more solid dyet. He makes us now a Misers Feast, and we forbear to take our fill. The silent night, and all these downy hours were made for Lovers: Gently they tread, and softly measure time, that no rude noise may fright the tender Maid, from giving all her soul to melting joyes.
There's your destiny, Lover mine: I am to be honest by in∣fection; my Lady will none you see.
Truth is, they are a lost couple, unless they learn grace by our ex∣ample. Come, shall we begin first, and shame them both
You'll never be warn'd of this hand, Benito.
Oh, 'tis so soft, as it were made on purpose to take hearts, and handle them without hurting. These Taper fingers too, and even joynts, so supple, that methinks I mould 'em as they pass through mine: nay, in my conscience, th' it be nonsence to say it, your hand feels white too.
Methinks yours is not very hard, for a Serving-mans: but where, in the name of wonder, have you learn'd to talk so courtly? you are a strange Valet de Chambre.
And you are as strange a Waiting-woman: you have so stab'd me with your Repartees to night, that I should be glad to change the weapon to be reveng'd on you.
These, I suppose, are fragments which you learn'd from your wild Master Aurelian: many a poor woman has pass'd through his hands, with these very words. You treat me just like a Serving∣man, with the cold Meat which comes from your Masters Table.
You could never have suspected me for using my Masters wit, if you had not been guilty of purloining from your Lady. I am
told, that Laura, your Mistresses Sister, has wit enough to confound a hundred Aurelians.
I shall do your commendations to Laura for your comple∣ment.
And I shall not fail to revenge my self by informing Aurelian of yours.
The poor souls shall not lose by the bargain, though my foo∣lish gadding Masters have disappointed them. That Ladder of ropes was doubtless left there by the young Lady in hope of them.
Hark, I hear a noise in the Garden.
I fear we are betray'd.
Fear nothing, Madam, but stand close.
Now, Benito, is the time to hold forth thy tallent, and to set up for thy self. Yes, Ladies, you shall be Serenaded, and when I have display'd my gifts, I'll retire in Triumph over the Wall, and hug my self for the adventure.
Let us make haste, Sister, and get into Covert, this Musick will raise the House upon us immediately.
Alass, we cannot, the damn'd Musician stands just in the door where we should pass.
The alarm's already given through the house. Ladies, you must be quick: secure your selves, and leave us to shift.
I hear'em coming; and, as ill luck will have it, just by that quarter where our Ladder is plac'd.
Let us hide in the dark walk till they are past.
But then Benito will be caught, and being known to be my man, will betray us.
I hear some in the Garden: Sure they are the Ladies, that are taken with my melody. To't again Benito; this time I will ab∣solutely inchant 'em.
He's at it again. Why Benito, Are you mad?
Ah, Madam! Are you there? this is such a favour to your poor unworthy Servant.
Come away, you unsufferable rascal, the House is up, and will be upon us immediately.
Leave your scraping and croaking, and step with us into this Arbor.
Scraping and Croaking! 'Sfoot, Sir, either grant I sing and play to a Miracle, or I'll justifie my Musick, though I am caught, and hang'd for't.
Where is this Serenading Rascall? If I find him, I'll make him an example to all midnight Caterwaulers, of which this Fidler is the lewdest.
O that I durst but Play my Tune out to convince him! Soul of harmony! Is this lewd?
Peace, dear Benito: We must flatter him.
Yes, we are safe, Sister; but they are yet in danger.
They are just upon 'em:
We must do something: Help, help; Thieves, thieves; we shall be murder'd.
Where? Where are they?
Here, Sir, at our Chamber door, and we are run into the Balcone for shelter: Dear Uncle, come and help us.
Back again quickly: I durst have sworn they had been in the Garden. 'Tis an Ignis fatuus I think that leads us from one place to another.
They are gone. My dear Camillo, make haste, and pre∣serve your self.
May our next Meeting prove more propitious.
Such another word, and I'le sing again.
Set the Ladder, and mount first, you Rogue.