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

Scene 38.

Enter Mistris Parle, Mistris Trifle, Mistris Vanity, and a Matron.

PArle.

Ha, ha, ha, prethee teach me something to keep in laughter, or I shall disgrace my self for ever.

Matron.

Are you so loosly set together, that you cannot hold?

Parle.

No, I shall burst out laughter at this ridiculous Wedding, before all the Bridal Company, and so be thought rude.

Matron.

If you burst out nothing else, the company will excuse you: for Weddings are compos'd of mirth and jollity, and every one hath liberty and leave to sport and play, to dance and skip about.

Parle.

But if the Bridegroom limping should come to take me out to dance, I shall laugh in his face, which he will take as an Affront, and then will kick me with his wooden stump.

Matron.

O no, he seems too wise to take Exception, and too civil to kick a Lady; he will rather kiss you, than kick you.

Parle.

I had rather he should kick me thrice, than kiss me once, by Iupiter. I would not be his Bride, to be the Empress of the whole World.

Matron.

It is probable, nor he your Bridegroom.

Enter Mistris Fondly.

Fondly.

Come away, the Bride is going to bed, and you stand talking here?

Parle.

To bed, say you? If I were she, I would first choose to go to my

Grave. Hymen and Cupid bless me from such a bed-fellow as the Bridegroom.

Trifle.

Prethee let us watch, to see if we can descry whether he hath clo∣ven feet or not?

Parle.

Should he have no Cloven Feet, yet certainly the Original of his shape came from Hell: for surely he was begot by the Devil, on some witch or another, and his Cloaths were spun by the Devils Dam.

Vanity.

The truth is, he hath damnable old cloaths on, they seem as if they were made of old rags, scrap'd out of dunghils.

Matron.

I perceive, Ladies, you prefer Beauty and Cloaths, before Vir∣tue and Merit.

Parle.

'Faith Virtue is too rigid to be belov'd, and Merit is but an incor∣poreal Spirit, and an incorporeal Spirit is no good bed-fellow.

Trifle.

Wherefore I would have a Handsome, Personable, Fashionable, Courtly man.

Fondly.

Nay, if I could have my wish, I would wish for more than one man.

The young Ladies go out.

The Grave Matron alone.

Matron.

The truth is, that one man would have too much by either of those Ladies.

Exeunt.