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

ACT IV.

Scene 28.

Enter Monsieur Importunate, and Madamosel Caprisia.

IMportunate.

Lady, if I may not be your Husband, pray let there be a friendship between us?

Capris.

What kind of friendship would you make? for there are so many, and of such different natures, as I know not which you would be; as some friendship is made by beauty, some by flattery, some by luxurie, some by factions, others by knavery, and all for interest.

Importunate.

None for love?

Capris.

No, but some are made by lust, but they last not long.

Importunate.

And is there no friendship made by vertue?

Capris.

O no, for vertue may walk all the World over, and meet never a friend, which is the cause she lives alone; for all the World thinks her too rigid for Society, which makes mankind adhere to her enemie vice.

Importunate.

Doth not marriage make a friendship?

Capris.

Very seldom, for marriage is like a Common-wealth, which is a contract of bodyes, or rather a contract of interest, not a friendship betwixt souls, and there is as much Faction, and oftener civil Wars in marriage, than in publick Common-wealths.

Importunate.

I desire our friendship may be Platonick.

Capris.

That is too dangerous, for it oftimes proves a Traytor to Cha∣stity.

Ex.

Scene 29.

Enter Monsieur Nobilissimo, Madamosel Doltche, and her Nurse.

NUrse.

Sir, you must give me leave to chide you, for staying so long with my Nurse-child, as you keep her from her dinner, either go away, or stay and dine with her.

Nobilissimo.

Good Nurse, be patient, for though I am engaged to dine with other company; yet her discourse is such charming musick, as I have not power to go from her, as yet.

Doltche.

If my discourse sounds musical, 'tis only when you are by, but when you are absent, the strings of my voice, or speech, is as if they were bro∣ken, for then my tongue is out of Tune, and my wit is out of humour.

Nobilissimo.

My dearest and sweetest Mistress, may your merits be rewar∣ded

by Fame, your vertue by Heaven, your life by Nature, and all your earthly desires by Fortune.

Doltche.

And my love by the return of yours:

Nobilissimo.

When I forsake you, may Hell take my soul, and Divels tor∣ment it for ingratitude and perjury.

Ex.

Scene 30.

Enter Madamosel Volante, and a Grave Matron.

MAtron.

Madamosel Doltche seems to be a very fine, sweet Lady, well-behav'd, sober, modest, discreet, and of a gentle nature.

Volante.

Most commonly, every one seems best at the first sight, by reason they put on their civilest demeanors, gracefullest garbs, modestest counte∣nance, and speaks their most choycest phrases, or words, when they meet strangers; all which, makes them appear to their advantage, when after ac∣quantaince, they will seem but vulgar, as when they are used to their ordina∣ry garbs, countenances and phrases, and that their natures and dispositions were known, they will appear to be no better than their Neighbours; nay, perchance not so good; the like will Madamosel Doltche appear to you.

Matron.

I do suppose she looks more familiar on her acquaintance, than strangers, and it is likely, she looks more grave, and sober on strangers, than on her known friends, and familiars; yet those several looks and countenan∣ces, may be as pleasing, and obliging, the one, as the other; for though the one may be more kind, the other may be more respectfull; for every ones countenance and behaviour, is to be ordered according to the several degrees or relations of several persons, and to several persons, and to several sexes, or according to their condition, state, life and fortune, and according to the times and occasions; for women are, or should be, more free and confident to, and in the company of women, than men; and men are more respect∣full in their discourse and behaviour to women, than to their own Sex, and a merry countenance in a sad condition or state of life or fortunes, would not be seemly; mirth in the house of mourning, would be inhumane, or to dance or sing over the Graves of their Parents, Children, Husbands, Wives or Friends, would be unnatural, or to be merry in the time of a general calami∣ty, as in timate of VVars, Plagues, or Pamine, or Deluges, or to be sad or froward in a general rejoycing; but a sad countenance, and a grave behaviour, is as sitting, and seems comely and handsome in a time of calamity, as a merry countenance, and a dancing behaviour, in a time of rejoycing; for tears becomes the face, sometimes, as well as smiles, and blushing may ap∣pear and expresse a modest nature to strangers, when to familiar acquaintan∣tances, blushing might be thought an accuser, or witnesse of some crime, yet bashfull eyes at all times, becomes modest Virgins.

Volante.

I hate bashfull eyes, for they are like to troubled waters, thick and unsteady, rouling from place to place, without an assurance; for modest Virgins may look upon the VVorld with a confident brow, if they have no guilt to stain their cheeks with blushes, and surely amongst well-brod persons,

there is none so rude, injurious, or uncivil, to force the bloud to rise, or stop the light, in causing bashfull eyes, but such as condemns a confident counte∣nance in Virgins faces; my eye of understanding will cast a despising glance on such ridiculous fools, and the tongue of reason condemns them.

Ex.

Scene 31.

Enter Madam la Mere, and Madamosel Caprisia her daughter.

MERE.

I wonder, Daughter, you should be so rudely uncivil to Monsieur Generosity, to use him so unkindly, as to entertain him with scornfull words, and disrespectfull behaviour.

Capris.

Why did he come to visit me?

Mere.

To offer his service, and to professe his affection to your person and vertue.

Capris.

I care not for his service, or affection.

Mere.

But he is a person of an honourable Title, and can make you a great Lady.

Capris.

Give me leave to tell you, Mother, that nature hath given me Ti∣tles of Honour, Wit and Beauty, to which all men will bow to, with re∣spect; Titles from Kings, poor petty things to those.

Mere.

But Daughter, let me tell you, that wit and beauty, without mo∣desty, civility and vertuous courtesie, may insnare facile fools, and allure fond persons, but not perswade the judicious to esteem you, nor the constant to sue to you, nor true love to desire you; you may have vain Boasters, and amotous Flatterers to court you; but none that is wise, or honourable, will marry you, and to use this Noble Lord so disrespectfully, who is indued with vertue, and adorned with the graces, and beloved of the Muses, is a crime unpardonable.

Capris.

Mother, the Muses and the Graces are Witches, which enchants the soul, and charms the Spirits, and makes the Senses extravagant, and the actions desperate.

Mere.

Methinks they should charm you; if they have such power.

Capris.

My humour is a Spell against all such charms.

Ex.

Scene 32.

Enter Monsieur Profession, and Monsieur Comorade his Friend.

COmorade.

You are well met, for I was going to your lodging to see you.

Profession.

And I am now going home, and therefore let us go toge∣ther.

Comorade.

Where have you been?

Profession.

At a house you often resort to.

Comorade.

What, at a Bawdy-house?

Profession.

Yes.

Comorade.

Why, how durst you venture?

Profession.

Why?

Comorade.

Why! why if your angelical Mistresse should come to hear of it; Faith, she would bury your heart again.

Profession.

Yes, is it were not out of her power.

Comorade.

Why, hath she not the Possession?

Profession.

No saith.

Comorade.

How comes that to passe?

Profession.

I know not how, but upon some dislike, it grew weary, and by some opportunity, it found it stole home, and since it hath promised never to leave me again; for it hath confessed to me, it hath been most miserably tor∣mented with doubts, fears, jealousies and despairs.

Comorade.

Prethee let me tell thee, as a friend, that thy heart, is a false ly∣ing heart, for there inhabits no torments amongst angelical bodies.

Profession.

By your favour, in Plutoes Court, there be Angels as well, and as many as in Ioves; But let me tell you, that if I did not love you very well, I would call you to an account, for calling my heart, a false lying heart.

Comorade.

Prethee pacifie thy self, for I am sure I have had but a heartless friend of thee, all the time of thy hearts absence, and if I should rayle of thy heart, thou hast no reason to condemn me; but prethee, tell me, had not thy heart some pleasure sometimes to mitigate the torments?

Profession.

No saith, for my heart tells me, that what with rigid vertue, cruel scorn, and insulting pride, it never had a minutes pleasure, nor so much as a moment of ease; and if that there were no more hopes of happiness amongst the Gods in Heaven, than there is amongst the Goddesses on Earth, it would never desire to go to them, or dwell amongst them: Nay, my heart says, it should be as much affraid to go to Heaven, and to be with the Gods, as mortals are to go to Hell, to be with Divels.

Comorade.

But if pleasure, and happiness, is not to be found with vertue, nor with the Gods, where shall we seek for it.

Profession.

I will tell you what my heart saith, and doth assure me; that is, that pleasure lives alwaies with vice, and that good fellowship is amongst the damned, and it doth swear, it is a most melancholly life, to live with those that are called the blessed, which are the Goddesses on Earth.

Comorade.

Why, then let us return to the house from whence you came.

Profession.

No faith, I am dry, wherefore I will go to a Tavern.

Comorade.

Content.

Ex.

Scene 33.

Enter Madamosel Caprisia alone, in a studeous humour, walking for a time silently; then speaks.

CApris.

Which shall I complain of? Nature or Education; I am compassionate by nature; for though I am froward, I am not cru∣el, I am pious by education; for though I am froward, I am not wicked, I am vertuous by nature, and education; for though I am froward, I am neither dishonest, unchaste, base, or unworthy: Why then, 'tis Fortune I must complain of, for Fortune hath given me plenty, and plenty hath made me proud, and pride hath made me self-conceited, self-conceit hath bred disdain, and disdain scorn; So pride, disdain, and scorn, makes me disap∣prove all other creatures actions, or opinions, but my own; and this disap∣proving is that which men calls cross, pievish, and froward disposition, being most commonly, accompanied with sharp satyrical words, and angry frowns.

These faults i'l conquer, whereresoere they lye; I'l rule my froward humour, or i'l dye.

Ex.

Scene 34.

Enter Madamosel Solid, and a Matron.

SOlid.

Lord! Lord! I wonder men and women should spend their time so idley, and wast their lives so vainly, in talking so ignorantly, and acting so foolishly upon the great Stage, or the Stage of the great World.

Matron.

VVhy, how would you have them spend their time, or talk, or act?

Solid.

I would have them spend their time, to gain time, as to prevent or hinder times oblivion, and to speak and act to that design,

—That when their bodies dye, Their Names and Fames, may live eternally.

Matron.

But it is not in every mans, or womans power, to get same, for some are made uncapable by nature, others are hindred by fortune, some are obstructed by chance, others want time and opportunity, wealth, birth and education, and many that are pull'd back by envie, spite and malice.

Solid.

VVhat man or woman soever, that nature is liberal to, may eter∣nalize themselves; as for fortune, she may hinder the active, the like may chance, envie, spite and malice, but cannot hinder the contemplative; the like may time and opportunity; but poor poverty and birth, can be no hin∣drance to natural wit, for natural wit, in a poor Cottage, may spin an after∣life, enter-weaving several colour'd fancies, and threeds of opinions, making fine and curious Tapestries to hang in the Chambers of fame, or wit may

and carve Images of imaginations, to place and set forth the Gardens of fame, making fountains of Poetry, that may run in smooth streams of verse, or wit may paint and pensel out some Copies, and various Pictures of Na∣ture, with the pensels of Rhethorick on the grounds of Philosophy, to hang in the Galleries of fame; Thus the Palacesses of fame may be furnished and adorn'd by the wit of a poor Cottager.

Ex.

Scene 35.

Enter Madamosel Caprisia, alone.

CApris.

Item, I am to be courteous, but not familiar; to be merry, but not wild; to be kind, but not wanton, to be friendly, but not intimate; to be sociable, but not troublesome; to be conversable, but not talkative; to look soberly, but not frowningly; to return answers civilly, to ask questions wisely, to demand rights honestly, to argue rationally, and to maintain opi∣nions probably: These rules I will strictly observe, and constantly practice.

Enter Monsieur Bon Compaignon.

Capris.

Sir, I cry peccavi, and ask your pardon, for speaking so unhand∣somely of the effeminate Sex, when I was last in your company; for my in∣discretion made me forget, so as not to remember, that all men hath either VVives, Sisters, Daughters or Mothers: But truly, my discourse proceeded neither from spite or malice, but from the consideration of my own faults, which being so many, did bury the good graces of other women, for though I am vertuously honest, yet I am but rudely fashion'd, and untoward for conversation; but though my discourse had a triangular countenance, for it seem'd foolish, spi••efull and wicked; yet pray, Sir, believe, the natural face, was a perfect, round, honest face.

Bon Compaignon.

Lady, what faults soever, your Sex is guilty of, your vertues will get their pardon, and your beauty will cover their blemishes.

Capris.

I wish my indiscretion had not discovered my froward imperfecti∣ons, but I am sorry, and shall hereafter endeavor to rectifie my errours.

Ex.

Scene 36.

Enter Monsieur Nobilissimo, and Nurse.

NObilissimo.

Good Nurse, where is my vertuous, sweet Mistresse?

Nurse.

In her chamber, Sir.

Nobilissimo.

VVhat is she doing?

Nurse.

She is reading.

Nobilissimo.

VVhat Books doth she read? are they Divinity, Morality, Philosophy, History or Poetry?

Nurse.

Sometimes her study is of one, and then of another; But now I think, her chief study, is you, wherein she may read humanity.

Enter Madamosel Doltche, and seeing Monsieur Nobilissimo with her Nurse, starts back, and then comes forth blushing.

Nurse.

Lord child! what makes you blush?

Doltche.

Not crimes, but my blushing, is caused by a sudden assault, or surprisal meeting him; I did not expect to meet at this time, which raised up blushes in my face; for blushing is like the full and falling tide; for the bloud flows to the face, and from thence ebbes to the heart, as passions moves the mind;

And thoughts as waves, in curling folds do rise, And lashfull eyes, are like the troubled skies.

Nobilissimo.

Sweet Mistress, crimes cannot stain your cheeks with blushes, but modesty hath penseld Roses there, which seems as sweet, as they look fair.

Doltche.

I desire my looks and countenance, may alwaies appear so, as they may never falsly accuse me; and as I would not have my looks, or counte∣nance, wrong my innocency, or deceive the Spectators, so I would not have my heart be ungratefull to bury your presence in silence; Wherefore, I give you thanks, Sir, for the noble Present you sent me to day.

Nobilissimo.

I was affraid you would not have accepted of it.

Doltche.

Truly, I shall refuse no Present you shall send me, although it were ushered with scorn, and attended with death.

Nobilissimo.

My kind Mistress, I shall never send you any Present, but what is ushered by my love, attended by my service, and presented with the offer of my life.

Nurse.

Child, you are very free of kind words.

Doltche.

And my deeds shall answer my words, is need requires; yet I am sorry if my speaking over-much, should offend; but I chose rather, to set bosses of words on the sense of my discourse, although it obscures the glosse of my speech, than my love should be buried in my silence.

Nobilissimo.

Sweet Mistresse, your loving expressions gives such joy unto my heart, and such delight unto my hearing, as my soul is inthron'd in hap∣pinesse, and crown'd with tranquility.

Nurse.

Pray Heaven, you both may be as full of Love, Joy and Peace, when you are married, as you express to have now; But let me tell you, young Lovers, that Hymen is a very temperate, and discreet Gentleman in love, I will assure you; neither doth he expresse himself in such high poe∣tical Raptures, for his discourse is plain, and ordinary.

Nobilissimo.

Nay, sometimes his discourse is extraordinary, as when he hath Wars; but Nurse, thou art old, and the fire of love, if ever thou hadst any, is put out by old Father Times extinguisher.

Doltche.

True love never dyes, nor can time put it out.

Nobilissimo.

'Tis true, but Nurse seems by her speech, as if she had never known true love; for true love, as it alwaies burns clear, so it alwaies flames high, far infinite is the fewel that feeds it.

Nurse.

Well, well? young Lovers, be not so confident, but let me advise

you to ballance reason on both sides, with hopes, and doubts, and then the judgement will be steady.

Nobilissimo.

But in the scales of love, Nurse, nothing must be but confi∣dence.

Nurse.

Yes, there must be temperance, or love will surfeit, and dye with excess.

Doltche.

Love cannot surfeit, no more than souls with grace, or Saints of Heaven.

Ex.

Scene 37.

Enter Madamosel Caprisia, alone.

CApris.

My smiles shall be as Baits, my eyes as Angels, where every look shall be a hook to catch a heart; I'l teach my tongue such art, to plant words on each heart, as they shall take deep root, from whence pure love shall spring; my lips shall be as flowery banks, whereon sweet Rhethorick grows, and cipherous fancy blows; from which banks, love shall wish to gather Posies of kisses, where every single kisse shall differ as Roses, Pinks, Violets, Primroses, and Daffidillies, and the breath therefrom, shall be as fragant as the touch, soft thereon, and as the Sun doth heat the Earth, so shall my imbraces heat my Lovers thoughts with self-conceit, which were before like water, frozen with a dejected and despairing cold. Hay ho!

Ex.