Playes written by the thrice noble, illustrious and excellent princess, the Lady Marchioness of Newcastle.

Scene 26.

Enter the Lady Wagtail, and the Lady Amorous.

LAdy Wagtail.

I can tell you news?

Lady Amorous.

What news?

Lady Wagtail.

Sir Serious Dumb can speak again!

Lady Amorous.

I am sorrow for that, for now he may tell tales out of School.

Lady Wagtail.

If he do, we will whip him with the rods of tongues, which is more sharp than the rods of wyer.

Lady Amorous.

We may whip him with words, but we our selves shall feel the smart of reproch.

Lady Wagtail.

How simply you talk, as if reproch could hurt a woman; when reproch is born with us, and dyes with us.

Lady Amorous.

If reproch have no power of our Sex, why are all women so carefull to cover their faults, and so fearfull to have their crimes di∣vulged.

Lady Wagtail.

Out of two reasons; first, because those of the masculine Sex, which have power, as Fathers, Uncles, Brothers and Husbands; would cut their throats, if they received any disgrace by them; for disgrace belongs more to men than women; The other reason is, that naturally women loves secrets; yet there is nothing they can keep secret, but their own particular faults, neither do they think pleasure sweet, but what is stollen.

Lady Amorous.

By your favour, women cannot keep their own faults se∣cret.

Lady Wagtail.

O yes, those faults that may ruine them if divulged, but they cannot keep a secret that is delivered to their trust; for naturally women are unfit for trust, or council.

Lady Amorous.

But we are fit for faction.

Lady Wagtail.

The World would be but a dull World, if it were not for industrious factions.

Lady Amorous.

The truth is, that if it were not for faction, the World would lye in the cradle of Peace, and be rock'd into a quiet sleep of secu∣rity.

Lady Wagtail.

Pr••thee talk not of quiet, and peace, and rest, for I hate them as bad as death.

Lady Amorous.

Indeed they resemble death, for in death there is no wars nor noise.

Lady Wagtail.

Wherefore it is natural for life, neither to have rest nor peace, being cantrary to death.

Exeunt.