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

ACT II.

Scene 11.

Enter the Lady Prudence, and the Country Gentleman as Suter: They take their places, the Assembly about them.

This wooing part of the Country Gentleman was written by the Marquiss of Newcastle.

Country Gentleman, Madam, though I no Courtier am by Education, Yet I more truth may speak, and here declare, Your charming Eyes turn wanton thoughts to virtue; Each modest smile converts the sinfull'st soul To holy Matrimony, and each Grace and Motion, Takes more than the fairest Face. I am not young, not yet condemn'd to age,

Not handsome, nor yet (I think) ill-favour'd; I do not swell with riches, nor am poor, No Palaces, yet have Conveniences. What though Poetick Raptures I do want, My Judgment's clearer than those hotter brains, To make a Joynture out of verse and songs, Or thirds in Oratory to endow you; The Mean betwixt Extremes is Virtue still: If so, then make me happy, and your self. Courtiers may tell you that you may enjoy, And marry pleasure, there each minutes time, There is all freedom for the female Sex, Though you are bound, yet feel not, you are ty'd, For liberty begins when you'r a Bride: Your Husband, your Protection, and the Court, Doth cure all jealousie, and fonder doubts, Which there are laught at as the greatest follies, If not by most, yet they'r thought mortal sins: 'Tis Heaven on Earth for Ladies that seem wise. But you are vertuous, and those ways despise, Therefore take me, that honour you for that.

Here ends my Lord Marquisses writing.

Prudence.

Worthy Sir, could I perswade my Affection to listen to your sure, you should not be deny'd; but it is deaf or obstinate; it will neither take your counsel, nor be intreated. But since you wooe so worthily, I shall esteem you honourable, as well you deserve.

Exeunt.

Scene 12.

Enter the Lady Parrot, and the Lady Minion.

PArrot.

Sweet Madam, I could not pass by your house for my life, but I must enter to see you, although I was here but yesterday.

Minion.

Dear Madam, I am very much joy'd to see you: for I am never well but in your company.

They sit down both in one Couch.

Parrot.

When did you see the Lady Gravity?

Minion.

I have not seen her these two days.

Parrot.

Lord, she is the strangest Lady that ever I knew in my life, her company is so uneasie, and let me tell you as a secret, she hath a very ill Reputation.

Minion.

If I thought that, I would not keep her company.

Parrot.

Since I heard that Report, I have shunn'd her company as much as I could.

Minion.

Even so will I: for I would not keep any body company that I thought were not chaste for a World. But who is her servant, can you tell?

Parrot.

'Tis commonly reported Sir Henry Courtly is her servant.

Minion.

Out upon him, he is the veriest Whoremaster in all the Town; nay, if she keeps him company, I will not come near her, I'll warrant you.

Parrot.

Nor I, although she would fain be dear with me, and seeks all the ways she can to be great with me, sending her Gentleman-Usher every day to me with a How do you.

Minion.

No, pray do not be dear nor great with her, but let you and I be dear and great, and that will anger her to the heart.

Parrot.

That it will faith, therefore let us go to morrow together and visit her, to let her see how dear and great friends we are.

Minion.

Content.

Parrot.

Agreed.

Enter Sir Henry Courtly, as to visit the Lady Minion.

Minion.

Lord, Sir Henry Courtly, I have not seen you these three days.

Courtly.

I was here yesterday, Madam, to wait upon you, but you were abroad, then I went to wait upon you my Lady Parrot, but you were also from home.

Parrot.

So then I had but the reversions of the Lady Minions Visit.

Courtly.

I can be but in one place at one time, Madam.

Minion.

Why should you take it ill, Madam, that he should visit me first?

Parrot.

Because I know no reason but that he should visit me before you.

Minion.

Why, my place is before yours.

Parrot.

But the love and esteem I have for him, is to be preferr'd before your place.

Minion.

How do you know but that I have as much Affection for him as you have? And I am sure I have, and more.

Parrot.

Don't you believe her, Sir Henry Courtly: for 'faith she said but even now, that you were the veriest Whoremaster in all the Town, and cry'd, Out upon you.

Minion.

And she said she would forbear the Lady Gravitie's company, by reason you did visit her, which was scandalou••.

Parrot.

What, do you betray me in your own house, when you said the same, and if I be not mistaken, before me?

Minion:

If you tell what I say, I will tell what you say.

Courtly.

Ladies, whatsoever you have said, or will say of me, I shall take it well: for it is an honour to be mentioned by fair Ladies, although in the severest sense or manner, or sharpest words.

Parrot.

What, do you take her part against me?

Minion.

No, no, I perceive well enough that he takes your part against me, for which he is a most unworthy man.

Parrot.

No, he partially takes your part, which is base.

Courtly.

I will assure you, Ladies, it is not my nature or disposition to de∣light in your displeasures; but my desire is to please all your Sex, and I in∣deavour in my practice and behaviour to that end: wherefore, if I cannot please, it is not my fault.

Minion.

So you make us Women strange creatures, as not to be pleased.

Courtly.

No, Madam, men want those excellent Abilities, or good For∣tunes, which should or could please you.

Parrot.

Faith Madam, he will have much to do to desend himself against us both.

Minion.

Nay if you will joyn with me, we shall be too hard for him.

Parrot.

That I will, and help to beat him with Arguments.

Courtly.

For fear I should argue my self more out of your favours than I am already, I will take my leave of your Ladyships for this time.

They both follow him, and say, nay, stay, slay.

Exeunt.

Scene 13.

Enter the Lady Prudence, and the Courtier: They take their places, and the Assembly about them.

COurtier.

Lady, you are the Sun of Beauty, from whence all your Sex receive a light, which without that would sit in darkness; you only give them lustre; you are the only Godess men adore, and those men which do not so, if any such men be, they are damned to censure: As for my self, La∣dies have judged me handsom, and for my persons sake have given me fa∣vours; nay, they have wooed my love with great Expences, maintained my Vanities, and paid my Debts, ruin'd their own and Husbands Honour and E∣state, and all for love of me; yet do I sue to you with great Humility, though many of your Sex have courted me; and let me tell you, fair Lady, that Courtiers Wives have freer Access to Masks, Plays, Balls, and Courtly Pleasures, than other Ladies have, who beg and strive, and often are beat∣en back in rude disgrace.

All which, fair Lady, if you summ up right, You'l find a Courtiers Wife hath most delight.

Prudence.

Fair Sir, could Person, Courtship, Garb, or Habit win my love, you should nor could not be deny'd: But since my Affection is not to be won by any outward Form, or Courtly Grace, I cannot grant your sute; be∣sides, the lives that Courtiers live, agree not with my humour: for I had rather travel to my Grave with ease, than inconveniently Progress about, ti∣ring my body out, lying in nasty lodgings, feeding on ill drest meat that's got by scrambling; but at the best, a Courtiers life to me is most unpleasant, to sit up late at Masks and Plays, to dance my time away in Balls, to watch for Grace and favour, and receive none; to gape for Preferments, Offices, and Honours, but get none; to waste my Estate with Fees, Gifts, and Braveries, to run in debt prodigally, to receive Courtships privately, to talk loud foo∣lishly, to betray friendship secretly, to profess friendship commonly, to pro∣mise readily, to perform slowly, to slatter grosly, to be affected apishly; no Prudent Brain, or Noble Heart, would interweave the thred of life with such vain Follies, and unnecessary Troubles; besides, I had rather be Mistris of my own House, were it a Cottage poor, than serve the Gods, if Gods were like to men.

Exeunt.

Scene 14.

Enter Mistris Parle, and Mistris Vanity.

VAnity.

My dear Comrade, what thinkst thou? will the Gentleman we met at Madam Gravities lodging marry me, think you?

Parle.

I know not.

Vanity.

I verily believe he will.

Parle.

What reason have you to believe he will?

Vanity.

A very good reason, which is, he look'd upon me two or three times, and at one time very stedfastly.

Parle.

If a man should marry all the women he looks on, he will have more Wives than Solomon and the great Turk, adding the number of their Concubines. But the more earnestly the Gentleman look'd on you, the grea∣ter sign he thought not of you: for thoughts are buried in fix'd eyes.

Vanity.

You speak out of spight, because I am thought handsomer than you.

Parle.

I had rather your Beauty should lie in your own & others thoughts, than it should be visible to the view of the World, or to be inthrown on a multitude of Praises; but howoever, I am not spightful, and therefore pray think not so for telling you my opinion of your no-lover.

Vanity.

You love your Jest better than your Friend.

Parle.

That's an old saying; but I love a plain truth better than a flatter∣ing lye.

Exeunt.

Scene 15.

Enter the Lady Prudence, and the Bashful Suter, and his Friend Mr. Spokesman, and the Assembly.

The Suter makes two or three legs, wipes his lips, and blows his nose with his handkerchief, hems twice or thrice, and trembling, begins to speak.

BAshfull Suter.

Madam, Madam, Madam.

This Scene the Lord Marquiss writ.

Prudence.

Speak Sir, what is't you would say?

Spokesman.

Madam, his Love and Modesty doth check his speech.

Prudence.

Then speak you for him.

His Friend goes and stands behind him, and speaks, the dumb Gentleman the while acts his Speech.

Spokesman.

Madam, your Presence, with you sparkling Eyes, Hath dazel'd him, and struck him dumb with Love; Like to a bottle too much fill'd, I doubt, Though's mouth's turn'd downward, nothing will come out.

Or like a Bag-pudding in love he's curst, So stuff'd, so swell'd, and yet he cannot burst: Or like a glass with Spirits of high price, No drop can fall when 'tis congeal'd to Ice. Sweet Lady thaw him then, take him apart, And then his Tongue will tell you all his Heart, And gush it forth with more force far than those Who dribble all their love away in Prose.

Prudence.

I'm all for Publick Wooing, so no stain Upon my Reputation will remain. With a dumb Husbands curse I'll ne'r be caught, But a dumb Wife a blessing may be thought. And so farewel.

Exeunt.

Scene 15.

Enter Sir William Holdfast, and his Friend Mr. Disswader.

HOldfast.

Sir Thomas Letgo's Mistris, that he is to marry, is a pretty Lady.

Disswader.

But I do not perceive he is very hasty to marry her.

Holdfast.

If she were mine, I would not prolong my Wedding-day.

Disswader.

For fear she should die, and you should lose her Estate.

Holdfast.

No, I am not covetous: for my Estate will maintain a Wife according to my quality, although she bring no Portion; and upon that condition I might have her, I would give a Portion for her, so much I like and fancy her.

Disswader.

And would you marry her if you might have her?

Holdfast.

Yes.

Disswader.

Pray tell me, what would you do with a Fool? she would be neither good for Breed nor Conversation: for she might bring you a Race of Fools, and vex you with ignorant Follies.

Holdfast.

Why should you think her a Fool? she neither appears fro∣ward, peevish, or spightful; she hath a sober Face, a bashful Countenance, a natural Garb; she is silent and pensive, which shews she is no Fool; but if she were always laughing, or toying, or singing, or dancing, or simpering, or prating, or had an affected countenance, or affected garbs or postures, I should conclude her to be a Fool. But certainly she must needs have a wise Wit: for she seems melancholy and contemplative, which no fool is; she hears much, and speaks little, which no fool doth: wherefore I judge she hath Wit, but either she is careless, and cares not to express it, or thinks the company fools, and therefore will not express it, or is so bashful, as she can∣not express it; and there is nothing shews, or discovers Wit so much as Bashfulness, which shews the Mind and Thoughts so sensible, as they appre∣hend beyond anothers perceivance, and so fearful lest they should commit Errors in their Actions and Expressions, as they obscure their Virtues and na∣tural Excellencies, for want of a confident Assurance, and a good Opinion of their own Abilities; besides, Bashfulness thinks the least natural defect

a Crime, and every little errour a Disgrace, never to be rubb'd out; they will blush at their own thoughts, and will pine almost into a Consumption, if two or three idle words should slip out of their mouths, or that they should mistake an Argument, or that their Behaviour was not so or so: The truth is, they never think their Actions or their Words well enough done or spo∣ken; they are the first that shall condemn themselves, and the last that shall give themselves a pardon: But prethee Ned, as thou art my Friend, see if you can procure me, or watch for an opportunity, that I might speak with her alone.

Disswader.

I think that were not difficult to be done; but I will enquire a way.

Holdfast.

Do not forget it.

Disswader.

No, it is so remarkable you should be in love with so simple a creature, as I shall remember it.

Exeunt.

Scene 17.

Enter the Lady Prudence, and her Suter a Divine: The Divine goeth to the place where the Suters plead, and the Assembly about them.

DIvine.

Madam, I should not thus presume, did not my Profession dig∣nifie me to a Spiritual Office, wherefore a fit Suter to a Divine Lady: And since my Sute is holy, by reason Mariage is sacred, despise me not.

Prudence.

Worthy Sir, all of your Profession require a solitary Habitati∣on for studious Contemplation to a holy life, wherein their Thoughts are Consecrated to Devotion, that their Doctrine may flow from a pure Mind, in Eloquent words, to the ears of their Flock, to instruct them with the light of Knowledge, and to lead them into the ways of Truth; whereas Mariage, although it be sacred in it self, yet it is rather apt to disturb than unite, espe∣cially a double Mariage, which are of different Natures: for there are two sorts of Mariages, as a Spiritual, and a Corporal: The first is betwixt the Gods and Mankind; the other is betwixt Man and Woman: The one is by a Consecration and Communion of Spirits, the other is by a Com∣bination and Communication of Persons; wherefore those that are maried to Iove, ought to keep themselves pure in that Unity: As for the mariage of Combination and Communication of Persons, although it is requisite for the continuance of Mankind, and civil Common-wealths, yet to spiritual Ele∣vations is is a great hinderance: for though a woman, especially a Wife, be accounted as a Helper and Comfort to man by her diligent attendance, and loving service, yet women are accounted not only unprofitable in learned Schools, but obstructers to a studious life, for which women are not suffer'd to inhabite in Universities, Schools, or Colleges; indeed we are in a maner banish'd from the sight or entrance thereinto, and men have reason so to do; since learning, especially Divine learning, requires study, and study requires a quiet, solitary, and silent life; and certainly there can be neither solitariness

nor silence where women and children are: for Nature hath made women and children to have restless spirits, unquiet minds, busiless active, and such voluble tongues, as it is impossible they should be silent, whilest life gives them motion; so that a woman is a very unfit companion for Contempla∣tions, wherein there should be no other company but thoughts, which thoughts in a Divine, should be only such as are the Inquirers and Searchers of Ioves divine Mysteries, and Scholars to Ioves divine Schools, and Orators to explain & plead in Ioves divine Laws, and servants to Ioves divine Or∣ders, that they may be Instructers and Intelligencers of Ioves divine Com∣mands: And though women ought to be instructed in Divinity, yet for the most part, women are obstructers and disturbers of Divinity and Divines; besides, the Original Woman was a Tempter to Sin, which all her Effemi∣nate Posterity inherit as a Natural Right and Gift from their great Grand∣mother: And though Divines ought to be industrious to cut off the Intail of that Original Inheritance with their holy Doctrine, quenching the fire of Temptation with the spiritual dew of Divine Instructions, yet ought they not to run themselves into that fire they should quench, serving as fuel to in∣crease it: Wherefore those that dedicate themselves to Ioves Church, ought to live separated from Natures daughters, lest they should yield to hu∣mane frailties, and become slaves to the Effeminate Temptations.

Exeunt.

Scene 18.

Enter Mistris Trifle, and Mistris Parle.

TRifle.

Friend, I am come to ask thy counsel.

Parle.

Concerning what?

Trifle.

Concerning Mariage.

Parle.

I will give you the best I can; but it is both difficult and dangerous to give counsel in so weighty a Concernment as Mariage.

Trifle.

You say very true; and being so weighty a Concernment as you say, I am come for thy Advice, not trusting to my own judgment, and thus it is: There is a Gentleman that hath come two or three times thorough out street, and the last time he came, he look'd up to my Chamber-window; wherefore I conceive he will come a wooing to me, therefore I desire thee to instruct me how I shall receive his Addresses.

Parle.

Do you know who he is?

Trifle.

No.

Parle.

Nor where he dwells?

Trifle.

No.

Parle.

Nor from whence he came, nor whither he will go?

Trifle.

No.

Parle.

What makes you think he will be a Suter to you then?

Trifle.

Because he comes so often thorough our street, and by our door, and hath look'd up to my Chamber-window; and these are sufficient Rea∣sons to believe it: for you may be sure he comes thorough our street for my sake.

Parle.

Truly I know not what counsel to give you; but as occasion shall offer it self, I shall think of you.

Trifle.

Prethee do; but I am in haste, and therefore cannot stay with you any longer: wherefore farewel.

Exit.

Enter Mistris Fondly.

Fondly.

O my sweet Parle, I was told thou wert ••ot at Home, and I have been at all my Acquaintances Louses to seek thee out, to tell thee a secret.

Parle.

What secret?

Fondly.

Why there hath been a Gentleman this day at my Fathers house, to Treat with my Father about marying me; and when I marry, I'll bid thee to my Wedding.

Parle.

You must bid me before you are maried, if you will invite me to your Wedding.

Fondly.

Yes so I will, I'll warrant thee: for I will not forget thee of all my Acquaintance: But prethee tell me what my Wedding-Gown shall be of.

Parle.

Of white Sattin, or cloth of Silver. But of what quality is the per∣son whom you shall marry?

Fondly.

I cannot tell.

Parle.

What Estate hath he?

Fondly.

I know not.

Parle.

How often hath he been with your Father?

Fondly.

He never was with my Father before this morning.

Parle.

Hath your Father concluded the match with him?

Fondly.

I cannot tell.

Parle.

Hath your Father spoke to you of him?

Fondly.

No.

Parle.

Then how came you to know he came to Treat of Mariage?

Fondly.

My Fathers man told me he thought the Gentleman came about such a business, because my Father and he were very earnest in their Dis∣course, and in private.

Parle.

If you know no more, perchance it is about some other bu∣siness.

Fondly.

It cannot be about any thing else, because they were earnest and private.

Parle.

Perchance it was about borrowing of money, and borrowers use to be earnest, and desire their desires may not be known: wherefore they draw aside, and whisper out their wants.

Fondly.

No, no, I am confident it was about me.

Parle.

I wish you may do well.

Fondly.

I thank thee for thy good wishes, and I hope he will prove a good Husband.

Exeunt.

Scene 19.

Enter the Lady Prudence, and the Lawyer: They take their places, and the Assembly about them.

LAwyer.

Madam, although there is a certain and set Form of making Deeds, Wills, and Leafes, and a Form of Mariage, yet I know no cer∣tain nor set form of VVooing, but every one wooes after what manner or form he pleases or thinks best, having no set rules to wooe by: But I am come here to wooe, and so to plead my own cause at the Bar of Affection, and you, as the Judge, are to give the Sentence, and to determine the Sute: But as all other Judges are to be free from partiality, or self-interest, as neither to be oversw••yd with either fear, pity, love, or covetousness, or the like; yet such a Judge as you, and in the like Causes as mine, may have the freedome of partiality or self-interest: wherefore, if no other plea can perswade you, take me for pity: for I am miserably in Love, manacled in Cupids Fetters, bound with his Bow-strings, and wounded with his golden Arrows, from which nothing but your favour and compassionate sentence can release me, otherwise I must lie under the Arrest of a wretched life, till such time as Death set me free, or cast me into Oblivion.

Prudence.

VVorthy Sir, as there is no certain nor set form of wooing, so there is no certain nor set form for the wooed to give a direct Answer: And though pity may move a Judge to give a favourable sentence, yet there is no Judge will, or ought to make himself a slave, to set a prisoner free; but if such a chance should be, it must be by a stronger motive or passion than pi∣ty, to make them yield up their liberty: And Mariage is a bondage, especi∣ally when as Sympathy doth not match the pair; and if Cupid hath woun∣ded you with his golden Arrows, he hath shot me with those that are head∣ed with lead, from which wounds proceed nothing but cold denials: But howsoever I shall give you part of your desires, which is, I shall pity you, although I cannot perswade my Affections to love you so much as to consent to marry you.

Exeunt.

Scene 20.

Enter Sir Henry Courtly, and his Wife the Lady Jealousie.

LAdy Iealous.

Husband I hear you have a Mistriss, but I do not wonder at it, for you have taught me (although not by the former, yet by your present practice) to foresee the future event. First, our loves have grown to their full maturity, and therefore in Nature, as Vegetables, must shed their leaves, or like Animals, at such a growth their strength decays, and in old age dyes; thus we may guesse by Natures Revolution, the revolution of our love, though at first we could not dream, but we must discover our dreams to each other, and whatsoever we had heard or seen in each others

absence, when we met, we recounted to each other each object, and repeat∣ed each subject and discourses that our Senses had presented to our know∣ledge; and not only what our Senses had presented, but what our Conce∣ception had conceived, or our Imaginations had created: Also we took de∣light to confer in our Houshold Affairs, and we were unquiet, uneasie, and restless, until we met, and had discoursed thus unto each other; and if ei∣ther of us had been sick, or had perceived the least distemper in each others health, our grief was exprest by our tears, and by our sighs, which from our Hearts did rise, and flow'd with grief, which poured through our eyes. But now we begin to cast shadows of dissimulation, which shews our love is in an Ecclipse, and from a pretence of the confidence and assurance we have of each other, we begin to be careless of each others discourse or action, giving our selves freedom and liberty to wander, not only from our Home-affairs, but from our profest Affections, to seek for pleasures and delights a∣broad, and only a seeming affection and delight remains at home: And thus by a juggling deceit, and false-glac'd love, we shall in the discovery become enemies, and by a seeming wisedom, we shall become fools, and our follies, as well as our crimes, will destroy the unity of Love, and the peace of Ma∣trimonial Government; And though we should not break out into open War, yet we shall live factious, and our servants will be as Commoners, si∣ding with each Party: But it seems your Mistris hath learn'd your mind so perfectly, and knows your humour so exactly, and can match your appetites with pleasure so justly, as she hath work'd out her designs skilfully, which is, to displace me, and to place her self in your Affections, by which she can make a subtil advantage of your Estate and Fortune, I mean good Fortune: for in bad Fortune she may chance; nay, 'tis most likely she will desert you for those that will and do forsake Virtue, Chastity, and Honour, are not likely to stick to misfortunes, as to follow Banishment, or to live with Pover∣ty, to bear injury, to endure Scorn, and to die in Misery. True Love may do it; but for those Affections that are produced by Incontinency, and not bound to Honesty, and setled by Constancy, will change more often than the wind, wavering from person to person.

Courtly.

Wife, I confess the Amorous Addresses I have made to other Women; but though I have strayed in my Actions, yet not in my Affecti∣ons: for my love is unalterably constant to you, as believing you are unat∣terably virtuous, and I do not only love your Chastity, prize your Virtue, honour your noble Soul and sweet Disposition, but I take delight in your Wit, am pleas'd with your Humors, admire your Beauty, and esteem and be∣lieve you to be the most perfect and best of your Sex. But Wife, know, that my Appetites, and not my Affections, seek after variety: for the kissing of a Mistris lessens not the Love to a Wife, but rather increases it, compa∣ring the falseness and beastliness of the one, to the Virtue and Purity of the other.

Iealousie.

And shall my Virtue and Chastity be only rewarded with your good Opinion?

Courtly.

Virtue, Wife, is a sufficient Reward in it self, and the Chastity of your Sex is crown'd with Honour; but the Reward I give you, is the free use as a Co-partner of my Estate, and the Mistris of my Family: Besides, I make you the chief care of my Industry, the chief subject or object of my Valour, the Treasure of my Life, the only Possessor of my Heart, and for your sake I shall neither refuse Death or Torment. Thus you are the Soul of

my Soul; and since you have my whole soul to you self, you may be well contented to lend my person to your Neighbours Wife, Daughter, Sister, Neece, or Maid.

Iealousie.

And will you be contented that I shall likewise borrow of your Neighbour?

Courtly.

No Wife: for you can neither lend nor borrow without the loss of Honour.

Iealousie.

Nay, rather than lose so great a loss as Honour, I'll strive to be content, Husband.

Courtly.

Do you so, Wife, and I will strive and indeavour to be contented with my own Wife.

Exeunt.