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

Scene 43.

Enter the Bridegroom according to his Dignity, as being a Prince, richly cloathed, and honourably attended with Gentlemen with their hats off, he leading in the Bride his Princess, and a great many Ladies waiting on her: The Prince and Princess sit in two Chairs, and the rest of the company on each side of them to see an Anti mask presented to them. When the Antick-maskers had dan∣ced, a Song was sung.

These Songs following the Lord Marquiss writ.

Song.

VErtue and Honour you did take, And Beauty scorn'd as vading; Thus you a Godess it doth make, 'Rove mortal Ladies trading.

They love the Body, you the Soul, They Shape, but you the Mind, Your Love those grosser loves controll, Which shews their Love is blind.

His wooden Leg is thrown away, The black Patch for the blind, The Bunch on's back asswag'd to day, As hansome as his Mind.

This now is your reward, Sweet Madam, The Gods they are not lath To give you one, handsome as Adam, And thus enjoy them both.

Then the Maskers dance again, and after their Dance another Song.

Song.

Loves Miracles not ceased be, The Lame to walk, the Blind to see, The Crooked is made straight, 'tis true, And these Loves Wonders made by you.

His Body metamorphos'd is, By your Ambrosia sweeter kiss; Such power hath Love when you do sip The Gods pure Nectar from your Lip.

All Ioys attend you night and day, Be each to other fresh as May, Renewing pleasures everyhower, And sweeter than the sweetest Flower.

The Maskers dance again, and after, another Song.

Song.

Envious Ladies now repine, Since you are crost, In having lost A Prince so handsome and so fine.

Mourn in black patches for your sins, Despair each Curl, And every Purl, And throw away your dressing-pins.

Lay by your richer Gowns of State, For now you'l faint, For all your paint, When 'think of your unhappier Fate.

For these Love-pitfals they are stale, And all despise Your glancing Eyes, For all forc'd Arts in Love they'l fail.

Now let your specious gliding pass, Or your Lips fed With biting red, Despair, and break each Looking-glass.

Here ends my Lord Marquis his writing.

Then the Maskers dance again, and so goe out, the Prince and Princess, and the Company goes out all but a Ma∣tron and some young Ladies, who stay, and look upon each other very sadly, without speaking to each other.

Matron.

What, Ladies, are you Thunder-struck with the Princes Honour, or are you blasted with the Lightning of his Splendor, or crush'd with the wheel of her good Fortune?

Parle.

Lord, Lord, how blindly Fortune throws her gifts away!

Matron.

One would think she had clear Eyes, when she bestow'd her Fa∣vours upon the Princess.

Vanity.

She is become so proud, since she is become a Princess, as she will not look on us that were her companions; and she thinks scorn to speak to us: for she said not one word to any of us.

Matron.

She had no occasion to speak to you; but I am confident, If you speak to her, you will find her as civil and obliging, as ever she was.

Fondly.

'Faith we care not: for we can live without being oblig'd to her.

Parle.

They are not the happiest that have the greatest Titles.

Trifle.

Pride will have a Fall.

Matron.

I perceive it is hand to get the good opinion of the World: for you rail'd at her Course, laugh'd at her Choise, condemn'd her Mariage, and now you envy her good Success.

Parle.

We envy her? you are mistaken: for she must be of greater va∣lue, and we less worthy than we are, to raise an Envy.

Matron.

Nay Ladies, if you are angry, I will leave you.

Parle.

Then we shall be rid of a pratling fool.

Exit Matron.

Enter three or four old Ladies, the Mothers to the young Ladies.

1 Old Lady.

O, wisedome in youth is a wonder.

2 Old Lady.

Happy is that Parent that hath a discreet Child.

3 Old Lady.

Such Children give their Parents Honour in their Graves.

4 Old Lady.

Pray let us Petition that a Law may be Enacted for this Pub∣lick Wooing.

1 Old Lady.

We shall not need to Petition: for the Princess, I dare war∣rant you, will get the Prince to Enact a Law for this Publick Wooing for her Fame, she being the only first that hath been wooed so.

So they all speak together.

Old Ladies.

Well, Daughters, make her your Pattern.

Exeunt Old Ladies.

Trifle.

Yesterday, that was the Wedding-day, my Parents did condemn the Bride, calling her Fool, and saying she was mad, and forbid me to imi∣tate her.

Parle.

'Tis no wonder our Natures are so various, when as our Educati∣on are so inconstant: for we are instructed to imitate Fortune, which is to be restless, and to spoil that good we have done.

Vanity.

Or to better the worse.

Parle.

No 'faith: for I perceive Fortune hath more power to do hurt than good; for Fortune ruines, or at least disturbs Virtuous Acts, and frustrates Wisedom's Counsels.

Enter a Messenger.

Messenger.

Ladies, the Princess desires your company to dance.

Parle.

Pray excuse me Sir: for I have so great a pain on my left side, as I can hardly fetch my breath.

Vanity.

And I have such a pain in my head, as I date not dance, for fear it should ake more.

Trifle.

And truly I have so streight a shooe, as it is a pain for me to tread a step.

Fondly.

And I am not well in my stomach: wherefore excuse us Sir to the Princess.

Exeunt.