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

Scene 13.

Enter Monsieur Satyrical, and Madamoiselle Bon' Esprit.

BOn' Esprit.

How shall I pacifie my companions, or qualifie their spleens? who will be in a furious rage, when they perceive and know my real love to you: for they made me as their hook to the line of their Angle, and hope to catch you like a Gudgion.

Satyrical.

All that Angle do not catch; yet you have drawn me forth of the salt Satyrical Sea.

Bon' Esprit.

But their desire is, that you should lie gasping on the shore of Love.

Satyrical.

Would they be so cruel, as not to throw me into a fresh River?

Bon' Esprit.

No: for they joy in the thought of your torments, and their general prayers are to Cupid, imploring him to wound you with a golden-headed Arrow, and she you love, with an Arrow headed with lead: As for their particular prayers, they are after this manner.

One prays you may sigh your self into Air, and the Air so infectious, as it may plague all the Satyrical of your Sex.

Another prayeth you may weep tears of Vitriol, and that the sharpness of those tears may corrode your soul.

Another prays that your passion of love may be so hot, as it may torment you, as Hell-fire doth the damned; but Mother Matron, besides saying A∣men to all their prayers, makes her prayers thus, That she for whose sake you must endure all these torments, may be the oldest, and most ill-favour'd de∣form'd woman that ever Nature, Accident, and Time made.

Satyrical.

She would have me in Love with her self, it seems by her prayer.

Bon' Esprit.

If she did hear you, she would die for want of Revenge.

Satyrical.

But Mistris, what prayer made you for me?

Bon' Esprit.

Not a cursing prayer: for though Mother Matron would have carried me up to the top of the Hill of Rage, and instead of a prayer for you, there to have made curses against you, yet she could neither force me up the one, nor perswade me to the other: for I told her I would give a blessing instead of a curse, and for fear of that, she left persisting.

Satyrical.

I perceive I had been in danger, had not you sav'd me, and like a merciful Godess kept me from their fury; but I'm afraid, that for my sake they will curse you now.

Bon' Esprit.

No doubt of it; but the best of't is, that their cursing prayers, or prayers of curses, go no farther than their lips.

Satyrical.

For all their furious rage, self-conceit perswades me, that if I

had addrest my self as a Suter to any one of them, they would have been more merciful than to have deny'd my sute.

Bon' Esprit.

I can think no otherwise: for I shall judge them by my self.

Satyrical.

Pray let's go, and invite them to our Wedding.

Bon' Esprit.

By no means: for they will take that as ill, as if you did in∣did invite them to a poyson'd Banquet: But if I may adv••se, it is not to tell them our Design, but let them find it out themselves.

Satyrical.

I shall agree to your Counsel.

Exeunt.