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

About this Item

Title
Playes written by the thrice noble, illustrious and excellent princess, the Lady Marchioness of Newcastle.
Author
Newcastle, Margaret Cavendish, Duchess of, 1624?-1674.
Publication
London :: Printed by A. Warren, for John Martyn, James Allestry, and Tho. Dicas ...,
1662.
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Link to this Item
http://name.umdl.umich.edu/A53060.0001.001
Cite this Item
"Playes written by the thrice noble, illustrious and excellent princess, the Lady Marchioness of Newcastle." In the digital collection Early English Books Online. https://name.umdl.umich.edu/A53060.0001.001. University of Michigan Library Digital Collections. Accessed June 16, 2024.

Pages

Scene 8.
Enter Monsiuer Tranquillities Peace, and his Man.
TRanquill. Peace.

Have you been at Monsieur Busie's house, to tell him I desire to speak with him?

SerPant.

Yes, I have been at his house.

Tranquill. Peace.

And will he come?

Servant.

Faith Sir the house is too unwieldy to stir, and Monsieur Busie is too Active to stay at home: but the truth is, I went at four a clock this mor∣ning, because I would be sure to find him and his servants, and their Master was flown out of his nest an hour before: Then I told his servants I would come about dinner-time, and they laugh'd, and ask'd me what time was that? I said I supposed at the usual time, about Noon, or an hour before or after, but they said their Master never kept any certain time of eating, be∣ing full of business. Then I asked them what time that would be when he would come home to bed: They answered, that his time of Resting was as uncertain as his time of Eating. Then I pray'd them to tell me at what time they thought I might find him at home: They said it was impossible for them to guess, for that their Master did move from place to place, as swift as thoughts move in the Mind. Then I pray'd them that they would tell him when he came home, that you would desire to speak with him: They told me they would, but they did verily believe he would forget to come to you, by reason his head was so full of busie thoughts, or thoughts of business, as there was no room more for a thought to stay in. So I went away in despair, but coming home, I chanced to see him at a little distance, so I made all the haste I could to overtake him, placing my Eyes fixedly upon him, because I would not lose him; but his pace was so swift, and his several turnings in se∣veral Lanes and Allyes were so many, as it was impossible for me to keep my measure, pace, or sight, for like a Bird, he did not only fly out of my reach, but out of my view; but by a second good fortune, I met him just at your Gate, and I stopp'd his way until I had told him your Message, which was, you would speak with him: He answered me, he could not possibly stay, for his businesse called him another way. I told him, that if he did not come and speak with you, or stay until you did come and speak with him, his Law-sute, which was of great Importance, would be lost, for you could not do him any further service to your Friends, that should help him, until he had resolved you of some questions you were to ask him; besides that, you wanted a Writing that he had. He told me that he was very much obliged to you for your favour to him, but he could not possibly stay to speak with you, for he had some businesse to do for two or three other men, and he must of necessity go seek those men out whom the businesse concerned; so that I could not perswade him by any means, although for his own good, to come in, or to stay till you went to him.

Tranquill. Peace.

Faith he is so busie, that he will neither do himself good

Page 257

nor any other man; for he runs himself out of the Field of Business, being over-busy, neither holding the Reins of Time, nor sitting steady in the Seat of Judgment, nor stopping with the Bit of Discretion, nor taking the Advan∣tages of Opportunity; but totters with Inconstancy, and falls with Losse. Thus his busy thoughts do tire his Mind, so that his life hath a sorry, sore, and weary Journey.

Servant.

I think he is a man that is full of Projects.

Tranquill. Peace.

So full, as his head is stuff'd with them, and he begins many designs, but never finisheth any one of them; for his designs are built upon vain hopes, without a Foundation: But were his hopes solid with pro∣bability, yet his inconstancy, and unsteady doubts, and over-cautious care, would pull down, or ruine his designs before they were half built.

Exeunt.
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