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.
As a man of honour ought, Sister, when he is challeng'd: and now, according to the Laws of Duel, the next thing is to strip, and, in stead of se∣conds, to search one another.
We'll strip our hands, if you please, Brother; for they are the only weapons we must use.
That were to invite me to my loss, Sister; I could have made a full meal in the World, and you would have me take up with hungry commons in the Cloyster. Pray mend my fare, or I am gone.
O, Brother, a hand in a Cloyster, is fare like flesh in Spain, 'tis delicate, because 'tis scarce. You may be satisfy'd with a hand, as well as I am pleas'd with the Courtship of a Boy.
You may begin with me Sister, as Milo did, by carrying a Calfe first, you may learn to carry an Oxe hereafter: In the mean time produce your hand, I understand Nuns-flesh better than you imagine: give it me, you shall see how I will worry it.
Yes, we may; but I have had the experience of it: it will be but half flesh, half Iron.
Let's try however.
Hold, Lucretia is here.
Nay, if you come with odds upon me, 'tis time to call Seconds.
Sir, though your Song was pleasant, yet there was one thing amiss in it, that was your Rallying of Religion.
Do you speak well of my Friend Love, and I'll try to speak well of your friend Devotion.
I can never speak well of Love: 'twas to avoid it that I en∣tred here.
Then, Madam, you have met your Man: for, to confess the truth to you, I have but counterfeited Love to try you; for I ne∣ver yet could love any Woman: and, since I have seen you, and do not, I am certain now I shall scape for ever.
You are the best man in the World, if you continue this resolution▪ Pray, then, let us vow solemnly these two things: the first, to esteem each other better than we do all the world besides; the next, never to change our amity to love.
Agreed Madam: shall I kiss your hand on't?
That's too like a Lover: or, if it were not, the narrow∣ness of the Grate will excuse the ceremony.
No, but it will not, to my knowledge: I have try'd every bar many a fair time over, and, at last, have found out one where a hand may get through, and be gallanted.
That seducer of virtue.
That disturber of quiet.
That madness of youth.
That dotage of old age.
That enemy to good humour.
And, to conclude all, that reason of all unreasonable acti∣ons
This Doctrine is abominable, do not believe it Sister.
No, if I do, Brother, may I never have comfort from sweet youth at my extremity.
But remember one article of our friendship, that though we banish Love, we do not Mirth, nor Gallantry; for I declare, I am for all extravagancies, but just loving.
Just my own humour; for I hate gravity and melancholy next to love.
Now it comes into my head, the Duke of Mantoua makes an entertainment to night in Masquerade: if you love extravagan∣cy so well, Madam, I'll put you into the head of one; lay by your Nun-ship for an hour or two, and come amongst us in dis∣guise.
O my dear Sister, never refuse it: I keep the Keyes you know, I'll warrant you well' return before we are miss'd. I do so long to have one fling into the sweet World again before I die. Hang't, at worst, 'tis but one sin more, and then we'll repent for all toge∣ther.
But if I catch you in the World, Sister, I'll make
you have a better opinion of the Flesh and the Devil for ever af∣ter.
If it were known, I were lost for ever.
How should it be known? you have her on your side, there, that keeps the Keyes: and, put the worst, that you are taken in the World; the World's a good World to stay in; and there are cer∣tain occasions of waking in a morning, that may be more pleasant to you than your Matins.
Fie, Friend, these extravagancies are a breach of Arti∣cles in our Friendship: but well, for once, I'll venture to go out; Dancing and Singing are but petty transgressions.
My Lord, here's company approaching: we shall be dis∣cover'd.
Adieu then, jusqu'a revoir; Ascanio shall be with you immediately, to conduct you.
How, Will you disguise, Sister? Will you be a Man, or a Woman?
A Woman, Brother Page, for life: I should have the strang∣est thoughts if I once wore Breeches.
A Woman, say you? Here's my hand, if I meet you in place convenient, I'll do my best to make you one.
But, Why thus melancholy, with Hat pull'd down, and the hand on the Region of the Heart, just the reverse of my Friend Aure∣lian, of happy memory?
Faith, Camillo, I am asham'd on't, but cannot help it.
But to be in Love with a Waiting-woman! with an eater of Fragments, a Simperer at lower end of a Table, with mighty Golls, rough-grain'd, and red with Starching, those discouragers and abet∣tors of elevated love!
I could Love Deformity it self, with that good humour. She who is arm'd with Gayety and Wit, needs no other Weapon to conquer me.
We Lovers are the great Creators of wit in our Mistrisses. For Beatrix, she a meer utterer of Yes and No, and has no more
Sence than what will just dignifie her to be an arrant waiting-wo∣man: that is, to lye for her Lady, and take your Money.
It may be then I found her in the exaltation of her wit; for, certainly, women have their good and ill dayes of talking, as they have of looking.
But, however, she has done you the courtisy to drive out Laura: and so one Poyson has expell'd the other.
Troth, not absolutely neither; for I dote on Laura's beau∣ty, and on Beatrix's wit: I am wounded with a forked Arrow, which will not easily be got out.
Not to lose time in fruitless complaints, let us pursue our new contrivance, that you may see your two Mistresses, and I my one.
That will not now be difficult: this plot's so laid, that I de∣fy the Devil to make it miss. The Woman of the house, by which they are to pass to Church, is brib'd; the Ladies are, by her, ac∣quainted with the design; and we need only to be there before them, and expect the prey, which will undoubtedly fall into the net.
Your Man is made safe, I hope, from doing us any mis∣chief.
He has dispos'd of himself, I thank him, for an hour or two: the Fop would make me believe that an unknown Lady is in love with him, and has made him an Assignation.
If he should succeed now, I should have the worse opinion of the Sex for his sake.
Never doubt but he'll succeed: your brisk Fool that can make a Leg, is ever a fine Gentleman among the Ladies, because he's just of their tallent, and they understand him better than a Wit.
Peace, the Ladies are coming this way to the Chappel, and their Jaylor with 'em: let 'em go by without saluting, to avoid suspicion; and let us go off to prepare our Engine.
I must have a look before we go. Ah, you little Divine rogue! I'le be with you immediately.
Look you, Sister, there are our Friends, but take no no∣tice.
I saw them. Was not that Aurelian with Camillo?
Yes.
I like him strangely. If his person were joyn'd with Beni∣to's Wit, I know not what would become of my poor heart.
Stay, Neeces, I'll but speak a word with Fabio, and go with you immediately.
I see, Sister, you are infinitely taken with Benito's wit; but I have heard he is a very conceited Coxcomb.
They who told you so, were horribly mistaken: you shall be judge your self, Violetta; for, to confess frankly to you, I have made him a kind of an appointment.
How! Have you made an Assignation to Benito? A Serving-man! a Trencher-carrying Rascal!
Good words, Violetta! I only sent to him from an un∣known Lady near this Chappel, that I might view him in passing by, and see if his person were answerable to his conversation.
But how will you get rid of my Uncle?
You see my project; his man Fabio is brib'd by me, to hold him in discourse.
In my conscience this is he. Lord, what a Monster of a Man is there! With such a VVorkiday-rough-hewn face too! for, faith, Heaven has not bestow'd the finishing upon't.
'Tis impossible this should be Benito; yet he stalks this way: from such a piece of animated Timber, sweet Heaven deli∣ver me.
He has the most unpromising Face, for a VVit, I ever saw; and yet he had need have a very good one, to make amends for his face. I am half cur'd of him already.
VVhat means all this Surveying, Madam? you bristle up to me, and wheel about me, like a Turkey-cock that is making Love: Faith, How do you like my Person, ha?
I dare not praise it, for fear of the old Complement, that you should tell me, 'Tis at my service. But, pray, Is your Name Benito?
Signior Benito, at your service, Madam.
And have you no Brother, or any other of your Name, one that is a VVit, attending on Signior Aurelian?
No, I can assure your Ladiship: I my self am the only wit who does him the honour, not to attend him, but to bear him com∣pany.
But sure it was another you, that waited on Camillo in the Garden, last night.
It was no other Me, but me Signior Benito.
'Tis impossible.
'Tis most certain.
Then I would advise you to go thither again, and look for the wit which you have left there, for you have brought very little along with you: your voice, methinks, too, is much alter'd.
Only a little over-strain'd, or so, with Singing.
How slept you, after your adventure?
Faith, Lady, I could not sleep one wink, for Dreaming of you.
Not sleep for Dreaming! VVhen the place falls, you shall be Bull-master-General at Court.
Et tu Brute! Do you mistake me for a Fool too? then, I find there's one more of that opinion besides my Master.
Sister, look to your self, my Uncle's returning.
I am glad on't; he has done my business: he has absolute∣ly cur'd me. Lord, that I could be so mistaken!
I told you what he was.
He was quite another thing last night: never was Man so alter'd in four and twenty hours. A pure Clown, meer Elementary earth, without the least spark of Soul in him!
But, tell me truly, Are not you in Love with me? Con∣fess the truth: I love plain-dealing: you shall not find me refracto∣ry.
Away, thou Animal; I have found thee out for a high and mighty fool, and so I leave thee.
Come, now I am ready for you; as little Devotion, and as much good Huswifery as you please: take example by me; I assure you no body debauches me to Church, except it be in your Compa∣ny.
I am undone for ever: What shall I do with my self? I'll run into some Desart, and there I'll hide my opprobrious head. No, hang't, I won't neither; all Wits have their failings sometimes, and have the fortune to be thought fools once in their lives. Sure this is but a copy of her countenance; for my heart's true to me, and whispers to me, she loves me still: well, I'll trust in my own me∣rits, and be confident.
Was there ever such an insolence?
Send in to see who lives there: I'll make an example of'em.
Here's the Woman of the House her self, Sir.
Sir, I submit, most willingly, to any punishment you shall inflict upon me; for, though I intended nothing of an affront to these sweet Ladies, yet I can never forgive my self the misfortune of which I was the innocent occasion.
O I am ready to faint away.
Alass, poor sweet Lady, she's young and tender, Sir: I beseech you, give me leave to repair my offence, with offering my self, and poor House, for her accommodation.
I know that Woman: there's some villanous Plot in this, I'll lay my life on't. Now, Benito, cast about for thy credit, and recover all again.
Go into the Coach, Neeces, and bid the Coach-man drive apace. As for you, Mistriss, your smooth Tongue shall not excuse you.
By your favour, Sir, I'll accept of the Gentlewoman's civili∣ty; I cannot stir a step farther.
Come in, sweet Buds of Beauty, you shall have a Fire in an inner Chamber, and if you please to repose your self a while, Sir, in another Room, they shall come out, and wait on you imme∣diately.
Well, if it must be so.
A Cheat, a cheat, a rank one; I smell it, old Sir, I smell it.
What's the matter with the Fellow? Is he distract∣ed?
No, 'tis you are more likely to be distracted; but that there goes some wit to the being mad, and you have not the least grain of wit to be gull'd thus grosly.
What does the fellow mean?
The Fellow means to detect your villany, and to recover his lost reputation of a Wit.
Why, Friend, What villany? I hope my house is a civil house.
Yes, a very civil one; for my master lay in of his last Clap there, and was treated very civilly to my knowledge.
How's this, How's this?
Come, you are a dirty Fellow, and I am known to be a person that—
Yes, you are known to be a person that—
Speak your worst of me, What person am I known to be?
Why, if you will have it, you are a little better than a pro∣curess: you carry messages betwixt party and party, and, in one word Sir, she's as arrant a Fruit-woman as any is about Rome.
Nay, if she be a Fruit-woman, my Neeces shall not enter into her doors.
You had best let them enter, you do not know how they may fructify in her house, for I heard her with these Eares whisper to'm, that their Friends were within call.
This is palpable, this is manifest; I shall remember you, Lady Fruiterer, I shall have your baskets search'd when you bring Oranges again. Come away, Neeces; and thanks honest Fellow for thy discovery.
Hah couragio: Il Diavolo e morto. Now I think I have tickled it; this discovery has re-instated me into the Empire of my wit again. Now, in the pomp of this atchievement, will I present my self before Madam Laura, with a Behold, Madam, the happy re∣stauration of Benito.
Oh, now, that I had the Mirrour, to behold my self in the fulness of my glory! and, oh, that the domineering Fop my Master were in pre∣sence, that I might triumph over him! that I might even contemn the wretched wight, the mortal of a groveling Soul, and of a deba∣sed understanding.
How the Devil came these three together? nothing vexes me but that I must stand bare to him, after such an enterprize as this is.
Nay, put on, put on again, sweet Sir; VVhy should you be uncover'd before the Fop your Master? the wretched wight, the mortal of a groveling Soul.
Ay, Sir, you may make bold with your self at your own pleasure: But for all that, a little bidding would make me take your Counsel and be cover'd, as Affairs go now.
If it be lawful for a man of a debased understanding to confer with such an exalted wit, pray what was that glorious at∣chievement which rapt you into such an extasy?
'Tis a sign you know well how matters go, by your asking me so impertinent a question.
Your Servant, Sir; at present I am not at leisure for con∣ference. But hark you, Sir, by the way of friendly advice, one word, henceforward tell me no more of the adventure of the Garden, nor of the great Looking-glass—
You mean the Mirror.
Yes, the Mirror; tell me no more of that, except you could behold in it a better, a more discreet, or a more able face for strata∣gem, than I can, when I look there.
But, to the business; What is this famous enter∣prise?
Be satisfy'd, without troubling me farther, the business is done, the Rogues are defeated, and your Mistriss is secur'd: if you would know more, demand it of that Criminal,
I know nothing, but only that, by your Masters Order, I was to receive the two Ladies into my house, and you prevent∣ed it.
By my Master's Order? I'll ne'r believe it. This is your stratagem, to free your self, and defraud me of my reward.
I'll witness what she sayes is true.
I am deaf to all asseverations that make against my ho∣nour.
I'll swear it then. We two were the two Rogues, and you the discoverer of our Villany.
Then, woe, woe, to poor Benito! I find my abundance of wit has ruin'd me.
But come a little nearer: I would not receive a good office from a Servant, but I would reward him for his diligence.
Virtue, Sir, is its own reward: I expect none from you.
Since it is so, Sir, you shall lose no further time in my ser∣vice: henceforward pray know me for your humble Servant; for your Master I am resolv'd to be no longer.
Nay, rather than so, Sir, I beseech you let a good honest sufficient beating attone the difference.
'Tis in vain.
I am loath to leave you without a guide.
He's at it again, do you hear, Camillo?
Prethy, Aurelian, be molify'd, and beat him.
Pray, Sir, hear reason, and lay't on, for my sake.
I am obdurate.
But, What will your Father say, if you part with him?
I care not.
Well, Sir, since you are so peremptory, remember I have of∣fer'd you satisfaction, and so long my conscience is at ease: what a Devil, before I'lll offer my self twice to be beaten, by any Master in Christendome, I'll starve, and that's my resolution, and so your Ser∣vant that was Sir.
I am glad I am rid of him; he was my Evil Genius, and was alwayes appearing to me, to blast my undertakings: Let me send him never so farr off, the Devil would be sure to put him in my way, when I had any thing to execute. Come, Camillo, now we have chang'd the Dice, it may be we shall have better fortune.