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

Scene 8.

Enter Monsieur Satyrical, and Monsieur Inquisitive.

INquisitive.

I wonder you should be an Enemy to Women.

Satyrical.

I am so far from being an Enemy to the Effeminate Sex, as I am the best friend they have: for I do as a friend ought to do, which is, to tell them truth, when other men deceive them with flattery.

Inquisitive.

But they complain, and say you exclame and rail against them.

Satyrical.

Their complaints proceed from their partial Self-love and Lu∣xury: for they love pleasing flattery, as they do Sweet-meats, and hate rigid truth, as they do a bitter potion, although the one destroys their health, the other prolongs their life.

Inquisitive.

But they are so angry, as they all swear, and have made a vow to be revenged on you.

Satyrical.

Let them throw their spleens at me, I will stand their malice, or dart forth Amorous glances, they will not pierce my heart: for Pallas is my Shield, and Cupid hath no power.

Inquisitive.

If they cannot wound you with their Eyes, they will sting you with their Tongues, for Women are like Bees.

Satyrical.

If they are like Bees, their stings lie not in their Tongues.

Exeunt.