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

Scene 7.

Enter Madamoiselle Ambition, Superbe, Bon' Esprit, Pleasure, Portrait, Faction, Grave Temperance, and Mother Matron

GRave Temperance.

Ladies, what think you of good Husbands?

Portrait.

I think well of good Husbands.

Bon' Esprit.

But it is a question whether good Husbands will think well of us.

Faction.

I think good Husbands may be in our thoughts, but not actually in the World.

Ambition.

I am of your opinion, they may be mention'd in our words, but not found in our lives.

Pleasure.

Faith we may hear of good husbands, and read of good wives, but they are but Romances.

Portrait.

You say right; for we may as soon finde an Heroick Lover, and see all his impossible Actions out of a Romance Book, as a good Hus∣bands; but as for Wives, I will not declare my Opinion.

Bon' Esprit.

Nor I; but were there such men that would make good hus∣bands, it were as difficult to get them, as for a Romantick Lover to get his Mistris out of an Inchanted Castle.

Pleasure.

For my part I had rather die a Maid, than take the pains to get a good Husband.

Superbe.

I wonder our Sex should desire to Marry; for when we are un∣maried, we are sued and sought to, and not only Mistris of our selves, but our Suters: But when we are maried, we are so far from being Mistrisses, as we become slaves.

Pleasure.

The truth is, there is no Act shews us, or rather proves us to be so much fools as we are, as in marrying: for what greater folly can there be, than to put our selves to that condition which will sorce us to sue to pow∣er, when before that voluntary slavery we were in a condition to use power, and make men sue to us.

Ambition.

We must confess, when we well consider, it is very strange, since every Creature naturally desires and strives for preheminency, as to be supe∣riour, and not inferiour; for all Creatures indeavour to command, and are unwilling to obey; for it is not only Man, but even the Beasts of the Field, the Birds of the Air, and the Fishes in the Sea; and not only Beasts, Birds, and Fish, but the Elements those creatures inhabite in, strive for superiori∣ty; only Women, who seem to have the meanest souls of all the Creatures Nature hath made; for women are so far from indeavouring to get power, as they voluntarily give away what they have.

Portrait.

Talk not of womens souls, for men say we have no souls, only beautiful bodies.

Bon' Esprit.

But beautiful bodies are a degree of souls, and in my Con∣science please men better than our souls could do.

Superbe.

If anything prove we have no souls, it is in letting men make such fools of us.

Matron.

Come, come Ladies, by Womens Actions they prove to have more, or at least better souls than Men have, for the best parts of the Soul are Love and Generosity, and Women have more of either than Men have.

Grave Temperance.

The truth is, that although Reason and Understand∣ing are the largest parts of the Soul, yet Love and Generosity are the delica∣test parts of the Soul.

Enter Monsieur Heroick.

Heroick.

Goodmorrow young Ladies, you appear this morning like sweet-smelling flowers, some as Roses, others as Lillies, others as Violets, Pinks, and Primroses, and your associating in a company together, is like as a Posie which Love hath bound up into one Bucket, which is a sit Present for the Gods.

Bon' Esprit.

If you would have us presented to the Gods, we must die; for we are never preferred to them but by Death: wherefore we must be gi∣ven to Death, before the Gods can have us; they may hear us whilest we live, and we may hear of them, but partake of neither until we die.

Heroick.

O that were pity, Ladies; for there is nothing more sad in Na∣ture, than when Death parts a witty Soul from a young beautiful Body, be∣fore the one hath built Monuments of Memory, and the other gained Tro∣phies of Lovers: And as for the Gods, you will be as acceptable to them when you are old, as when you are young.

Ambition.

As nothing could make me so sad as untimely death of Youth, Wit, and Beauty, so there is nothing could anger me more, as for Fortune to frown upon Merit, or not to advance it according to its worth, or to bury it in Oblivion, hindring the passage into Fames Palace.

Temperance.

For my part, I believe Death will neither call nor come for you before his natural time, if you do not send Surfet and Excess to call him to take you away.

Pleasure.

Indeed Mankind seem as if they were Deaths Factors; for they

do strive to ingross and destroy all other creatures, or at least as many as they can; and not only other creatures, but their own kinde, as in Wars; and not only their own kinde, but themselves, in idle and unprofitable Adven∣tures, and gluttonous Excess, thus as I said, they are Deaths Factors, buying sickness with health, hoping to gain pleasure, and to make delight their pro∣fit, but they are cozen'd, for they only get Diseases, Pains, and Aches.

Matron.

Pray Ladies mark how far you are gone from the Text of your discourse, as from sweet-smelling flowers to stinking carrion, which are dead carkasses; from a lively good-morrow, to a dead farewel; from mirth to sadness.

Portrait.

You say right, Mother Matron; wherefore pray leave off this dis∣course, for I hate to hear off death; for the thoughts of death affright me so, as I can take no pleasure of life when he is in my mind.

Heroick.

Why Ladies, the thought of death is more than death himself; for thoughts are sensible or imaginable things, but Death himself is neither sensible nor imaginable.

Portrait.

Therefore I would not think of him; and when I am dead, I am past thinking.

Superbe.

Let us discourse of something that is more pleasing than Death.

Heroick.

Then by my consent, Ladies, your discourse shall be of Venus and Cupid, which are Themes more delightful to your Sex, and most contra∣ry to death; for Love is hot, and Death is cold; Love illuminates life, and Death quenches life out.

Bon Esprit.

Let me tell you Sir, Love is as apt to burn life out, as Death is to quench it out, and I had rather die with cold, than be burnt with heat; for cold kills with a dead numness, when heat kills with a raging mad∣nesse.

Pleasure.

But Lovers are tormented with fears and doubts, which cause cold sweats, fainting of spirits, trembling of limbs; it breaks the sweet re∣pose of sleep, disturbs the quiet peace of the mind, vades the colours of beau∣ty, nips or ••lasts the blossome of youth, making Lovers look withered, be∣fore Time hath made them old.

Heroick.

It is a signe, Lady, you have been in love, you give so right a Character of a Lover.

Pleasure.

No, there requires not a self-experience to find out a Lovers trouble, for the outward Actions will declare their inward grief and pas∣sion.

Superbe.

Certainly she is in love, but conceals it, she keeps it as a Secret.

Pleasure.

Love cannot be secret, the passion divulges it self.

Portrait.

Confess, Are you not in love?

Faction.

Nay she will never confess a Secret, unless you tell her one; for those that tell no secrets, shall hear none.

Portrait.

O yes, for a Secret is like a child in the womb; for though it be concealed for a time, it will come out at last, only some comes out easier than others, and some before their time.

Ambition.

Nay whensoever a secret comes out, it's untimely.

Faction.

Secrets are like Coy Ducks, when one is flown out, it draws out others, and returns with many.

Pleasure.

Then like a Coy Duck I will try if I can draw all you after me.

Exit Pleasure.

Bon' Esprit.

She shall see she is like a Duck, which is like a Goose, and we like her, for we will follow her.

Exeunt.