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

The Actors Names.

• SIR Thomas Letgo.
• Sir William Holdfast.
• Sir Henry Courtly.
• Master Diswader, Sir VVilliam Holdfast's Friend.
• The Lady Prudence, Daughter and Heir to the Lord Sage.
• The Lady Mute, the affianced Mistress to Sir Thomas Letgo.
• The Lady Liberty.
• Sir Thomas Letgo's Amoretta.
• The Lady Jealousie, Sir Henry Courtly's Lady.
• The Lady Gravity.
• The Lady Parrot.
• The Lady Minion.
• The Lady Geosling.
• Mistress Parle.
• Mistress Trisle.
• Mistress Vanity.
• Mistris Fondly.
• Three of four old Ladies, the Mothers to the four young Ladies.
• Two grave Matrons.

The VVooers.

• As, the Soldiers, the Country Gentleman, the Courtier, the Bashfull and his Friend, the Amorous, the Divine, the Lawyer, the Citizen, the Farmer, the Stranger, All VVooers.
• Gentlemen, Merchants, Fortune-tellers, Maskers.

PROLOGUE.

OUr Auth'ress says to make a Play is hard, To censure freely men are not afraid; Opinions easily do pass upon The wit of others, though themselves have none; And envie rounds the sense, and words about, Hoping some errors it may soon find out. But streams of wit do not so often flow, As salt rough censures, which to billows grow; And swell so big, till they in pieces fall, In their own ruines they are buried all. But if our Authors Play deserves a praise, She will not thank you, though you give her bays; Because she knows it is her right and due, And justice to receive the same from you. Wherefore she says, if you do take delight To read her Play, or acted to your sight, The bounty doth proceed from her alone; Her wit doth pleasure give to every one. The Play, if bad, she doth desire no praise, The Cypress will receive instead of bays.

THE PUBLICK VVOOING

ACT I.

Scene 1.

Enter two men.

1 MAn.

'Tis reported that the great Mogul hath War with the Parthians, and a man of our Nation is General of all his Forces.

2 Man.

Me thinks it is too great an Honour and Trust to give to a stranger.

1 Man.

But it is reported he hath behav'd himself so wisely, honestly, nobly, and valiantly, as he hath gained the favour of the Emperour, and love of the Souldiers, and also respect from all the inferi∣our Princes.

2 Man.

Who should this man be?

1 Man.

I cannot learn: for the Merchants from whom I had this report, know not what his right name is; for they think he goeth by a cover'd name.

2 Man.

Surely he is of a very mean Birth, that he is asham'd to own his name.

1 Man.

It seems so; but let his Birth be poor or great, he hath a Gene∣rous Soul: for they say he is very bountiful, and lives in great magnificence, and carries himself as if he were Princely born: He is the whole discourse upon the Exchange, and the Merchants do cry him up like to another Iuli∣us Caesar.

2 Man.

It seems they fare the better for his being their Countryman, and he to be the Emperours Favourite.

1 Man.

'Tis like enough.

2 Man.

Nay you may be assur'd they have a Fee of Obligation, if they praise him so much. Of what Age do they say he may be?

1 Man.

They say is in the prime of his years, a very handsom man, well-behav'd, and of a ready wit.

2 Man.

'Tis strange it should not be known of what Parentage he is of.

1 Man.

It is not known as yet.

Exeunt.

Scene 2.

Enter two Men.

1 MAn.

Sir, were not you a servant to the Lord of Sage?

2 Man.

Yes Sir.

1 Man.

He was a Wise, and a Noble Person.

2 Man.

He was so, Heaven rest his Soul.

1 Man.

'Tis said he hath left but one only Child, and she a Daughter, which Daughter is sole Heir to all his Estate.

2 Man.

She is so.

1 Man.

And it is also reported she will be woo'd in publick, or else she'l never wed.

2 Man.

The Report is true, Sir: for I am now going to invite all her Friends and acquaintance, to whom she desires to publish her resolutions.

1 Man.

Is she resolv'd of it?

2 Man.

She hath vow'd it.

1 Man.

Pray favour me so much, as to give me a Character of her.

2 Man.

She is Virtuous, Young, Beautiful, Graceful, and hath a superna∣tural Wit; and she hath been bred and brought up to all Virtuosus, which a∣dorns her Natural Gifts; she lives magnificently, yet orders her Estate pru∣dently.

1 Man.

This Lady may be a sample to all her Sex.

Exeunt.

Scene 3.

Enter two Grave Matrons.

1 Matron.

Mistris Simple is the very'st Fool that ever I tutor'd or in∣structed.

2 Matron.

Do you mean a fool by imprudence, or a fool that speaks im∣properly?

1 Matron.

I do not know what her imprudence may be; but in her words there is no coherence.

2 Matron.

Alas she is young; and youth is a Cage of Ignorance, and boys and girls are like birds, which learn from their tutors and tutoresses artifici∣al tunes, which are several Languages, Sciences, Arts, and the like: But the truth is, of all sorts of Birds, the Cocks are more apt to learn than the Hens.

1 Matron.

If she can be taught sense, I am much mistaken: for she hath not a reasonable capacity to learn.

2 Matron.

Why then she hath a defect in Nature, as a Changeling.

1 Matron.

I think so.

2 Matron.

Why should you think so, since youths capacity cannot be measured by their Educators? for Time is the only measure of the rational capacity: And to prove it, some boys and girls will be so dull, as to seem stu∣pid to Learning, and yet in their strength of years may prove very rational un∣derstanding,

and wise men or women; besides, the Brain is like to the Air, 'tis sometimes thick with mysty Errours, sometimes dark with clouds of Ig∣norance, and sometimes clear with Understanding, when as the Sun of Know∣ledge shines; and perchance you heard her speak when her Brain was clou∣dy and dark.

1 Matron.

So dark, as her words could not find the right way to sense.

2 Matron.

Perchance if you hear her speak some other times, when her Brain is clear, you may hear her speak wisely.

1 Matron.

It is so unlikely she should ever speak wisely, as it is near to impossible.

2 Matron.

Indeed unlikely and impossible do some way resemble each o∣ther: But let me tell you, the Brain is like the Face, it hath its good days and its bad: for Beauty and Wit have not only their times and seasons, but their foul and fair days.

1 Matron.

You say true: for the choisest Beauties that ever were, or are, will somtimes look worse than at other times; nay so ill they will look some∣times, as they might be thought they were not Beauties.

2 Matron.

The like for Wit: for certainly, the greatest Wit that ever was, or is, may sometimes be so dull and unactive, as it might be thought they were so far from being Wits, as they might be judged Fools: And cer∣tainly, the most Eloquent Orators that ever were, have spoke at some times less Eloquently than at other times; insomuch, that at some times, although the subject of their Discourse is so full of Matter and Reason, as might have oyl'd their Tongues, smooth'd their Words, and enlighten'd their Fancy, yet they will speak as if their Wits had catch'd cold, and their Tongues had the numb Palsy, on which their words run stumbling out of their mouths as insensible; when as at other times, although the subject of their discourse be barren or boggy, woody or rocky, yet their Wit will run a Race without stop or stay, and is deck'd and adorn'd with flowry Rhetorick: And certain∣ly, the wisest men that ever were, have given both themselves and others worse counsel sometimes, than at other times; and certainly the valiantest man that ever was, had sometimes more courage than at other times: But yet although a valiant man may have more courage at one time than another, yet he is at no time a coward, nor a wise man a fool.

1 Matron.

But Orators may chance to speak non-sense.

2 Matron.

They may so, and many times do.

1 Matron.

Why then may not a Valiant man be at some times a Coward, and a Wise man a Fool, as well as Orators to speak non-sense?

2 Matron.

Because Valour, Judgment, and Prudence are created in the Soul, and is part of its Essence; I do not mean every soul, but the souls of Valiant and Wise men: for souls differ as much as bodies, some are crea∣ted defective, others perfect; but words are only created in the mouth, and are born through the lips, before the soul of sense is enter'd or inbodied therein.

1 Matron.

An Orators tongue is powerful.

2 Matron.

An Orators tongue doth rather play on Passions, than compose the Judgment, or set notes to the Reason; like as a Fidler, that can play tunes on musical Instruments, but is no Musician, to compose and set tunes: But there are many men that have eloquent tongues, but not witty souls; they have the Art of words, but not the Spirit of wit.

Exeunt.

Scene 4.

Enter the Lady Prudence, and a company of Ladies and Knights, whom she had invited to hear her Resolutions. She stands by her self, and speaks.

Lady Prudence.

Kind Friends, and worthy Acquaintance, you may think it strange, and perchance take it ill, I invite you only to a simple Dis∣course, for to declare a vain Vow, as you may judge it so to be, which Vow I made since my Father the Lord Sage's death. The Vow is, never to receive a Lovers Address, or to answer a Lovers Sute but in a publick Assembly; and 'tis likely the World will laugh at this as ridiculous, or condemn it for pride, or scorn it as self-conceit: But if they will be pleased to weigh it in Judge∣ments Scales, they will find it poysed with a good Intention, and make a just weight of Conveniency against unaccustomariness: for though it is not usu∣al, yet it is very requisite, especially to such young women which are Or∣phans, who like small and weak Vessels, that are destitute of Guide or Pilot, are left on the wide Sea-faring World to ruinous waves, and incon∣stant weather; even so young women are to the Appetites of greedy men, and their own inconstant and changing Natures, and want of Experience to guide them, run on Rocks, Shelves, and Quick-sands of Troubles, Misery, and Disgrace, not knowing what safe Port or Home to sail to; whereupon, and in which danger, I considering with my self, at last I thought it the safest way to swim in the full Ocean, and not in the narrow Channels, Creeks, or obscure Corners, lest I should be crush'd to pieces, or drown'd for want of Sea-room; and surely were there a Law to forbid all private meetings of young men and women, and that no women should marry, unless they be wooed in publique, there would not be so many unequal matches, so many perjur'd Consciences, so many devirginate and forsaken Maids; neither would there be such floods of tears from sorrowful Parents Eyes, for their unduti∣ful childrens Actions that will choose without their good liking, and marry against their good wills: But they will be asham'd in publique to choose dishonourably or indiscreetly: for the Ears and Eyes of a publick Assembly will be as Reigns, to curb their unruly Passions, and their Applause and Com∣mendation will be as spurs to force them to a wise, choise, when in private Wooings their Passions become wilde, and run loosly about, without bridle or check: Wherefore I desire my Friends and Acquaintance to be as wit∣nesses of my behaviour and words to my loving and Matrimonial Suters; and in this you will be as Parents to the Fatherless, as Judges to Pleaders, and Gods to Men.

The Audience speak.

We approve of your discreet and honest Resolutions, and shall wish you happy days.

Exeunt.

Scene 5.

Enter Mistris, Parle, Mistris Trifle, Mistris Fondly, Mistris Vanity, and one of the Grave Matrons. Then enters a Servant-Maid.

Maid.

Mistris, there is a Woman at the door that can tell Fortunes.

They all speak at once.

O let her come in, let her come in.

Exit maid.

Enter the Fortune-teller.

Fortune-teller.

God bless you young Ladies.

Parle.

Can you tell Fortunes?

Fortune-teller.

Yes that I can Lady.

Trifle.

Tell me mine.

Vanity.

Tell me mine first.

Parle.

No, tell me mine first.

Fondly.

Nay, tell me mine first.

Matron.

Have patience Ladies, and let her tell your Fortunes by degrees, one after another: for she cannot tell them all at once.

Fortune-tel.

I must look in your hand, Lady.

Fondly shews her hand.

Fortune-teller.

By your hand you should marry richly, and keep Open-House; you will have many Children, and your Husband will love you dearly.

Fondly.

But will no body love me but my Husband?

Fortune-teller.

Yes, you will be well belov'd, if you be kind and loving to others.

Trifle.

Now tell me my Fortune.

She shews her hand.

Fortune-tel.

You, Lady, will have two Husbands.

Fondly.

You did not tell me I should have two Husbands.

Fortune-tel.

No Lady, your Fortune is to have but one.

Trifle.

How long will it be ere I shall have one of my Husbands?

Fortune-tel.

Not long, Lady.

Trifle.

Will my Husbands be handsom men?

Fortune-tel.

Your first Husband will be a tall men, with a brown hair and complexion.

Trifle.

That complexion and stature I like very well.

Fortune-tel.

Your second Husband will be of a middle stature, and of a fair hair and complexion.

Trifle.

O I like that stature and complexion better.

Vanity.

Tell me mine, tell me mine.

She shews her hand.

Fortune-tel.

You will have many courting Servants, and two will fight for you.

Vanity.

And which shall have me?

Fortune-tel.

He that out-lives the other.

Vanity.

Why, shall one of them be kill'd?

Fortune-tel.

Yes.

Vanity.

I am sorry for that: for I could please them both. But look again, perchance he may be only sore wounded, and not kill'd out-right.

Fortune-tel.

Your hand doth portend death to one.

Vanity.

And will he live long that I shall marry?

Fortune-tel.

I do not perceive his death in your hand.

Vanity.

I am sorry for that; for I shall not love him, by reason he kill'd one that lov'd me so well as to die for my sake.

Fortune-tel.

'Tis only his fortune to live; but he ventures as much for your sake as the other.

Vanity.

That's all one: for I shall love him that's kill'd, more than he that lives, especially after I am maried: for I shall love a dead servant be∣ter than a living Husband.

Parle.

You are so long a talking to the woman, as you hinder her from tel∣ling me my fortune. Come woman, read the fortune in my hand.

Shews her hand.

Fortune-tel.

You, Lady, will die a Maid.

Parle.

Out upon the Witch, what Devil told you that lye?

Fortune-tel.

I do not say you will die a Virgin.

Parle.

I hope you do not see any children in my hand.

Fortune-tel.

There are many lines that do foretel children; but some are so small, and others so crost and broke, as I cannot find a strait or perfect line: But here are lines that do foretel many Suters.

Parle.

That's some amends: for it had been a hard case, and very ill for∣tune, if I should have neither Husband nor Suters.

Matron.

Come, come, Ladies, pay the poor woman, and let her go.

Trifle.

Give her a crown for me.

Fondly.

And one for me.

Vanity.

And one for me.

Fortune-tel.

Heaven bless you Ladies: for you will make me rich.

Parle.

Give her half a crown for me.

Matron.

Will not you give her a whole crown?

Parle.

There is no reason I should: for she hath given me never a Hus∣band.

Matron.

Well, good woman, let this be a warning to you, that when you come to tell young Ladies their Fortunes, that you be sure to give them all one Husband a peece, if not two or three: for the more Husbands you give them, the more money they will give you.

Fortune-tel.

I shall take your counsel, Mistris.

Exit Fortune-teller.

Parle.

To die a Maid, it cannot be, it must not be, it shall not be.

Exeunt.

Scene 6.

Enter the Lady Prudence, and her Audience, and her Suter, who is a Souldier, there being two standing places, opposite to each other a purpose, one for the Suter to wooe and plead his sute, and another for the Lady to stand whilst she gives her Answer.

This rooing Souldier was written by the Lord Marquiss of New-castle.

Souldier.

Madam, I am come here to offer you a Man, a Gentleman, and a Souldier, three Titles in me, the Person that loves you, honours you, and will serve and obey you, and think it no disgrace thus to alter the Care∣chism of our old written Matrimony: If you command the breeches, you shall not only have them, but the coat too; and when you are pleased to change the name of the Sex, the gray Mare shall be the better Horse: for 'tis ashame for a man to controll a woman, but always to obey and please them from the least to the greatest of their commands: for man never seems so much man, nor masculinely inthron'd under the cloth of State, in his Royal Chair of Courage, as when he is taken prisoner, and led captive by the Fe∣male Sex. Thus, fair Divine Lady, conquer'd, thus I beg, thus I yield, thus submit: VVherefore Lady, take me, and make your self happy and me.

No Musk nor Civet courtly words I use, Nor Frenchez-pan promises to abuse Your softer Sex, nor Spanish sweets to tell, And bribe your quicker nostrils with the smell, Or let a false tear down my cheek to fall, And with dissembling kneeling therewithall, Sigh my self into Air: these fools disdain, These quarter-wits, O kick them back again: Nor am I like a Justice of the Peace, That woo's you just as he would buy a lease; Nor like an Heir, whose Tutor for his sake So many lyes of Joynter-houses make; Nor like a Lawyer that would fain intail, And when he's try'd, doth make a Jeofail; Nay thousands more, that always do dissemble For your sake, make my loving heart to tremble, Lest you should be deceiv'd.

Admired Lady, fear not my Profession, All my Drum-heads, I'll beat them to soft silence, And every warlike Trumpet shall be dumb: Our feared Colours now shall be torn off, And all our Armour be condemn'd to rust, Only my Sword I'll wear, the badge of man, Por to defend you and your Honour-still. Then Madam take me thus your loving Vassal, When lying bragging Castrils will forsake you.

Oh take a man, and joy in him for life, A Sword-man knows the virtue of a Wife.

Here ends my Lord Marquisses writing.

The Lady Prudence's Answer.

Lady Prudence.

Gallant Sir, should I accept of your Sute, I should be ei∣ther an Enemy to my self, or you, or my Country: As for my self, should I marry a Souldier, I should be tormented with the cruellest passions: for if I love my Husband, as sure I shall, I shall be perpetually frightned with his dangers, grieved for his absence, despair of his life: Every little misfortune will be as his Passing-Bell; I shall never be at rest asleep nor awake; my Dreams will present him to my view, with bleeding wounds, mangled bo∣dy, and pale visage; I shall be widow'd every minute of an hour, in my own thoughts: for as the Senses are to the Body, so the thoughts are to the Mind, and Imaginations in these, or the like cases, are as strong as a visible presence: for passions live in the Soul, not in the senses; for a man is as much griev∣ed when he hears his friend is dead or kill'd, as if he saw him dead or slain: for the dead friend lives in the mind, not the mind in the dead friend: But with these Dreams and Imaginations I shall grow blind with weeping, weak with sighing, sick with sorrowing, and deaf with listning after reports: And should you desist from that noble Profession for my sake, I should prove as a Traitor to my Country, by taking away part of the strength and support, lea∣ving the weakness to the force of the Enemy: for a good Souldier is a strong Fort and Bulwark of Defence: Indeed a skilful Commander is to be pre∣fer'd before a numerous Army: for a number of men without Order, are like dust, which the least puff of wind blows about; so an Army, not being well commanded, is quickly dispers'd, and suddenly routed upon the least errour; besides, should you desist, you would bury your name in Oblivion, when by your valiant Actions, and prudent Conduct, your memory will be placed in Fames high Tower, and writ in large Characters of praise. 'Tis true, should I marry, I should prefer my Husbands honour before his life, yet would I not willingly marry a man, whose life shall be set at the stake, and Fortune still throwing at it, for that would make me live miserably: And who would wilfully make themselves miserable, when Nature forbids it, and God commands it not?

Exit Lady.

The Lover goes sighing out

Scene 3.

Enter the Lady Parrot, and the Lady Minion.

LAdy Parrot.

Shall we go and visit the Lady Gravity?

Minion.

No, she lives so solitary a life, as we shall meet no company there: for none go to visit her.

Lady Parrot.

Then let us goe to the Lady Liberty, there we shall meet

company enough: for all the Ladies in the Town go to visit her.

Minion.

If she hath no men-visiters, I will not add to the number of her Lady visiters.

Parrot.

You may be sure she hath Masculine Visiters, or else the Ladies would never go to see her: for it is to meet the men the Ladies go to see her, and not for her own sake.

Minion.

And the men go to see the Ladies.

Parrot.

I believe some do; yet men are better company in the company of their own Sex, than in the company of women.

Minion.

By your favour, the contrary Sex agree best, and are better plea∣sed together, than men with men, or women with women: But if the Lady Liberties House be the General Rendezvouz for Men and Women, let us go.

Parrot.

Content.

Exeunt.

Scene 8.

Enter Mistris Trifle, and Mistris Vanity.

VAnity.

O my dear Heart!

Trifle.

O my dear Joy, how glad am I to see thee! But where have you been, that you came later than you promis'd? for if you had not sent me word you would come to me to day, I had gone to you.

Vanity.

Why, where do you think I have been?

Trifle.

I know not where to think.

Vanity.

I have been at a Silk-mans shop to buy me a new Gown; but I would not choose it before I had shewn thee my patterns.

Trifle.

Let me see them.

She shews them.

Vanity.

What do you think of this stuff?

Trifle.

This is out of Fashion; besides, 'tis not a Mode-colour.

Vanity.

What think you of this Tabby?

Trifle.

The colour is good, but it is not of a good water.

Vanity.

What think you of this Sattin?

Trifle.

The Sattin is a good glossy Sattin, but the colour is too pale.

Vanity.

But pale colours, 'tis said, are Allamode in France.

Trifle.

Who says so?

Vanity.

A Gentleman told me so which is newly come out of France.

Trifle.

Then he perchance could have told you all the French Fashions.

Vanity.

So he did most particularly: for he said he went into France for no other purpose but to see and observe Fashions.

Trifle.

I believe he only observed mens Fashions, being a man, and not womens Fashions.

Vanity.

Nay, he swore he observ'd the womens Fashion more than the mens, by reason he knew it would make him more acceptable to our Sex at his return, not onely for Discourse-sake, but for the kind rewards he should have for his Intelligence; which rewards he hath found so full and plentiful, as he hath made such a beneficial Journey, as he will go once every year, and stay a moneth or two, and then return.

Trifle.

For Ioves sake send him to me.

Vanity.

I will; but prethee choose my Gown.

Trifle.

Let the Gentleman that came out of France choose your Gown: for he can put you into the French Fashion.

Exeunt.

Scene 9.

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

VVOoer.

Sweet Lady, your Beauty hath wounded my heart, im∣prisoned my senses, and hath inslav'd my soul, so as I am wholly in your power.

Prudence.

I will mask my beauty, and set you free.

Wooer.

A mask may shadow your beauty, but cannot extinguish it, no more than a dark cloud can the bright Sun: And as the Sun begets life, and gives light; so your beauty begets love, and gives delight to all that do be∣hold it.

Prudence.

And as Time brings Death, Darkness, and Obscurity; so Age brings wrinckles, and Absence forgetfulness, burying love in the ruines of Beauty.

Wooer.

My love can never die, nor hath time power to vade your beauty.

Prudence.

Nothing escapes Times tyranny, but what the soul possesses.

Wooer.

You are the soul of beauty, and beauty the soul of love.

Prudence.

Such souls have no Eternity, but die as bodies do.

Wooer.

O save my soul, and love me.

Prudence.

'Tis not in my power: for love is free and resolute; it can nei∣ther be commanded nor intreated.

Exeunt.

Scene 10.

Enter the Lady Liberty, Sir Thomas Letgo, Sir William Hold∣fast, the Lady Parrot, the Lady Minion, Master Disswader, Sir VVilliam Holdfasts Friend, being met at a Feast at Sir Thomas Letgo's House.

LEtgo.

Ladies, you are become melancholy of a sudden: I hope you are not tyr'd with dancing?

Liberty.

Yes saith, we want divertisements: wherefore prethy Sir Tho∣mas Letgo, send for thy affianced Mistris to make sport.

Letgo.

I am asham'd she should be seen, or made known to this noble company.

Liberty.

O divulge her by all means, that the World may know you do despise her, and that you will marry her only because she is rich, and to o∣bey your Fathers commands.

Letgo.

I will obey your commands, and send for her.

He sends for her, in the mean time he is talking to another.

Enter the Lady Mute, holding down her head, and looking simply.

Liberty.

Sir Thomas Letgo, your wise Mistris is come to welcome your Guests.

Letgo.

She wants words to express her self, and Wit to entertain them.

Liberty.

Your Father knew you wanted not Wit so much as Wealth.

Letgo.

Many Fathers leave their sons nothing but their follies and vices for their Inheritance: But my Father not having Vices or Follies enough of his own, hath left me another mans Fool for an Annuity.

Parrot.

Is she a fool?

Liberty.

O yes: for she seldom speaks.

Parrot.

That's a great sign of simplicity indeed.

Liberty.

She is a meer Changeling: for when she doth speak, it is but, when she is question'd, and then for the most part she gives but one answer to all sorts of questions.

Parrot.

What Answer is that?

Liberty.

Her Answer is, she cannot tell.

Holdfast.

Lady, there may be such questions ask'd, as are beyond a wise mans understanding to resolve: But perchance she is sceptick, that doubts all things.

All the company laugh.

Liberty.

What do you judge the scepticks fools?

Holdfast.

A man may judge all those to be fools that are not scepticks.

Liberty.

I judge all those that think her not a fool, are fools.

Holdfast.

Then Lady I am condemn'd: for I cannot give sentence against any of your Sex, neither in thoughts or words.

Exeunt.

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.

ACT III.

Scene 21.

Enter the Lady Prudence with two Suters, a Citizen; and a Far∣mer, who both Plead or Wooe, and she Answers. The Assembly about them:

CItizen.

Madam, although I cannot Wooe in Eloquent Orations, or Courtly Solicitations, or Learned Definitions, being only bred to In∣dustrious actions, thrifty savings, gainful gettings, to inrich me with worldly wealth, and not to studious Contemplations, Poetical Fictions, Divine Ele∣vations, Philosophical Observations, State-Politicians, School-contradicti∣ons, Lawes Intrications, by which (perchance) I might have gained Fame, but not Wealth: But Fame neither cloaths the naked, nor feeds the hungry, nor helps the distressed, neither doth it maintain a Wife in Brave∣ry, where, if you will be mine, you shall sit in a shop all furnish'd with gold, and great summs shall be brought you for exchange of my Wares; and while you sit in my shop, all street-passengers will stand and gaze on your Beauty, and Customers will increase, and be prodigal to buy, whilst you sell, not for the use of what they buy, but for the delight to buy what you sell; besides, of all saleable curiosities & varieties that are brought to the City, you shall have the first offer, and the first fruits and meats each Season doth pro∣duce, shall be served to your taste; your cloaths, though of the City-fashion, yet they shall rich and costly be; besides, to every Feast the City and each Citizen doth make, they will invite you, and place you as their chiefest guest; and when you by your Neighbours doors do pass, their Prentice-boys and Journey-men will leave their shop-boards, and run to view you as you go. Thus shall you live, if you will be mine, in Plenty, Luxury, Pride, and Ease.

Prudence.

Rich Sir, I may sit in your shop, and draw Customers, but shall get no honour by them; I may sell your Wares, but lose my Reputation; I may be ador'd, worship'd, sought and pray'd to, as for and to a Mistris,

but shall never be counted as a Saint; I may be rich in wealth, but poor of the Worlds good Opinion; I may be adorn'd with silver and gold, but ble∣mish'd with censure and slander; I may feed on luxurious Plenty, yet my good name starve for want of a good Fame: for a Citizens Wife is seldom thought chaste, and the men for the most part accounted Cuckolds. I know not whether it be a Judgment from Heaven for their Cozening, or decreed by the Fates for their Covetousness, or bred by a natural Effect of their Lu∣xury, which begets an Appetite to Wantonness; but from what cause soe∣ver it comes, so it is: wherefore I will never be a Citizens Wife, though truly I do verily believe there are as many virtuous and chaste women, and understanding men that belong to the City, as in the Country; and were it not for the Citizens wealth, more Antient Families would be buried in poverty than there hath been, where many times a rich City-widow, or daughter, gives a dead Family a new Resurrection: wherefore, it is more prudent for men to marry into the City, than it is advantagious for women, especially such women that esteem a pure Reputation before wealth, and had rather live in poverty, than be mistrusted for dishonesty.

Then the Citizen goeth from the Standing-place, and the Farmer takes it. The Lady Prudence keeps her place all the while.

Farmer.

Madam, although I cannot draw a Line of Pedigree from Gen∣tility, yet I can draw a Line of Peasantry five hundred years in length; and if Antiquity is to be esteemed, my Birth is not to be despised: As for my wealth, I am not poor, but rich for my degree and quality; and though it is not sit I should maintain my Wife in silver and gold, yet I may maintain her with plenty and with store, cloath her in fine smooth soft cloth, spun from the fleeces of my Flocks: But if you will be mine, you shall be crown'd with Garlands made of Lillies, Roses, Violets, Pinks, and Daffidillies, and be as Queen of all these Downs, where all the Shepherds and Shepherdesses shall give you homage, and worship you as Godess of the Plains, bringing you Offerings of their mornings Milk, their Butter, Curds, and soft prest Cheese, and various Fruits fresh gather'd off their Trees; also my Kids and Lambs shall sport and play, and taught to know your voice, and to obey, and every Holyday you shall in Arbors sit, shadow'd from hot Sun-beams, whilst Country Maids and Country Men which Lovers are, shall dance up∣on the grassy Green to the sound of the Horn-pipe, Bag-pipe, and such brea∣thing Musick, whose pleasant Strains, and plain-set Notes, rebound in Ecchos from the high-cast Banks, the lofty Hills, hollow Woods, and murmuring Streams, besides other Rural sports, to entertain your Eyes and Ears, and recreate your Minde with Mirth and harmless Plays, to pass your Time withall.

No life so pleasant as the Country Life, No woman so happy as the Farmers VVife.

Prudence.

Honest Friend, could I as easily perswade my Affections to your Person, as I could to the condition of a Shepherdesses life, or Farmers wife, you should be the only man I would choose; but since I cannot, I must on∣ly return you thanks for your good liking, in that you have preferr'd me in your choise, for which, may neither nipping Frost, nor burning Sun, nor bla∣sting winds, nor weeds, nor snails, nor worms destroy your Labours, nor ra∣venous

Wolves, nor crafty Foxes nor Polcats, Weesels, Kites, or any such like Vermin, fright or rob you of your young & tender breed; may all your grounds and flocks increase a treble-fold, your fleeces long and thick, your corn firm and full-car'd, your grass sweet and broad-bladed, your trees so full of fruits, that every branch may bow under its load; and may your plen∣ty store all the Kingdom, that neither want nor famine may be fear'd or felt; may all your Country Neighbours, and labouring Swains, respect you as their Chief, obey you as their Lord, and worship you as their God Pan.

Exeunt.

Scene 22.

Enter Sir William Holdfast, meeting the Lady Mute, she seeming as in a studious Thought.

HOldfast.

Lady, you are in a serious Contemplation. Pray what are you thinking of?

Mute.

I have heard that thoughts are free; but I perceive they cannot pass without questioning.

Holdfast.

I would not boldly intrude upon them, my humble desire is I might partake of the Excellency of them.

Mute.

I suppose you think my Contemplation is of Heaven, and not of the World: for there is no subject which can make Thought excellent, but what is Divine: for the World corrupts them, Nature deceives them, and Speech betrays them.

Holdfast.

If your speech never betrays more than it doth now, which only expresses your Wit, you may well pardon it; but I now finde you are not so ignorantly simple as you are thought to be through your si∣lence.

Mute.

I confess I have practis'd silence: for I am of years fitter to learn than to talk; and I had rather be thought ignorantly simple for being silent, than to express folly by too much speaking.

Holdfast.

But I wonder you will suffer you self to be laugh'd at for a Natu∣ral Fool, when your wit is able to defend you from scorns and scoffs, and is able to maintain its own Arguments.

Mute.

If I had Wit, there would be no Honour in the Arguing, no more than for a Valiant man to fight with Cowards; so wit to dispute with fools: But I had rather they should laugh at me, than I should weep for my self; yet there were none in that company that laugh'd at me, but were older than I, and the older they are, the more faults they have committed; and if they laugh at me for my little wit, I will scorn them for their many faults, and hate them for their vices.

Holdfast.

The truth is, 'tis only fools that commit many faults, and take de∣light in their own follies, and do themselves hurt with their own errors; and not those that have Wit: for they have Ingenuity and Prudence to foresee, and so escape errours, and the mischiefs that may follow: But you appear,

by not expressing your self, to your disadvantage, and your silence doth you wrong.

Mute.

I care not how I appear in my outward Aspect, so my Life be ho∣nest, my Actions just, my Behaviour modest, my Thoughts pure, and that I obey to the utmost of my power the Laws and Customs of Duty, Morality, Divinity, and Civility. But 'tis a sign of a foolish Age, when silence is thought ignorant simplicicitie, and modesty accounted a crime; when in Antient Times Youth was taught sober Attention, and it was impos'd upon Scholars to keep silence five years before they were suffer'd to speak, that they might afterwards be able to Teach, and not always live to learn as School-boys, which they would always be, if they spent their time in words, and not stu∣dy and observe: And silence is a discretion that few women practise, being more apt to talk than men; for women are fuller of words than thoughts: but words should be weighed by Judgment, in the ballance or scales of Sense, and deliver'd by the tongue through the lips by Retail, which cannot be if they throw them out so fast: for there is required Reason, Time, and Understanding, besides unstopped Ears to hear them: But though mine Ene∣mies laugh at me for a Fool, yet I have so much Honesty, Innocencie, and Modesty, to guard and defend my Reputation, as they cannot wound that with their sharp words, nor laughing faces.

Exeunt.

Scene 23.

Enter the Lady Prudence, and her strange Wooer, a man that had a wooden Leg, a patch on his Eye, and Crook-back'd, unhandsome snarled Hair, and plain poor Cloaths on: He takes the Wooers place, and the Assembly about, gazing with smiling faces at the sight of such a Wooer.

Strange Wooer.

Lady, I come not now to plead with flourishing Rhetorick, to make that which is false to appear like truth, or paint a foul cause with fair smooth words: But my cause of request is honest, and what I shall speak is truth; nor do I strive to hide my Deformities or Vices: As for my outward deformities, they are visible to your Eyes; but Vices live in the Appetites, Passions, and Affections, which are only exprest by the Actions, and therefore the easier may be dissembled from the most part of the World, yet not from Heaven, to whom I am to make a just account: And since my sins are only to the Gods, and not you, fair Godess, I shall not at this time make a publick confession of them; but I am come here to present you with my love, which love is as pure as unspotted Angels, it hath no by-respects unto your Wealth, Beauty, or Birth, but barely and meerly to your Virtue: in truth I come a wooing to your Soul, not to your Body, but yet mi∣stake me not, I would not have them parted. I cannot say my Estate or Birth deserves you, nor have I merits equal to your worth; but since my love is as pure as your virtue, it will be an equal Match: And though you see my body a deformed bulk, yet I am not asham'd of it, because the owner, which

is my Mind, is honest: for I never betray'd my King, or Country, Mistris, or Friend, nor any Trust that was impos'd unto me by any, although a Foe; I never shut my purse, nor sheath'd my sword from helping the distress'd, nor turn'd my back upon my assaulting Enemy; I never stole good Fame, nor rob'd good Names, nor stab'd Innocency with slander; I never scorn'd those below my self, nor envy'd those above me; I never infring'd the Laws of Honour, nor disturb'd civil Society; and though I cannot suffer an injury patiently, yet I never did omit a duty willingly: As for the truth of what I say, I have none to witness for me, as being a stranger, but my own words, from which this company (perchance) may think self-love and great desire hath brib'd my Tongue; but if they do, their thoughts make Truth no less, no more than Eyes that are blind, Ears that are deaf, can rob you of your Wit and Beauty: for though your Wit they do not hear, nor Beauty see, yet you passess them no less, their want only robs you of their Admiration, not of the Possession; and say I am blind of one eye, my other eye doth see, and I have Hearing perfectly, which doth inform my Knowledge and Under∣standing, with that which makes my Admirations and Adorations perfect and sound within my Heart, wherein your Picture is printed on, which my Soul doth view, and gazing, kneels with wonder and astonishment, that so much Wit, Wisedom, and Virtue should be in one so young & fair: And if you cannot love me, despise me not; for my pure Love is Divine, as being divinely placed on you; and it would grieve my Soul, to have the zealous fire and immaculate flame of my Affection extinguish'd with your neglect∣ing Thoughts, and rak'd up in the ashes of your Forgetfulness: But if any of my Sex shall seem to jest, or scorn me for my outward form or shape,

My Courage and my Sword shall take my bodies part, To cut their Limbs, or thrust them through their Heart.

Prudence.

Worthy Sir, you must excuse me from answering you at this time: for I am taken on the sudden very sick.

Strange Wooer.

I wish you health, although it were to be only purchas'd by my death.

Exeunt.

Scene 24.

Enter Mistris Trifle, and a Grave Matron••

MAtron.

What is the cause you weep?

Trifle.

Because my Father will not get me a Husband, and Mistris Fondly will have a Husband before I shall have one: for I hear she is to be maried, she is happier in her Parents than I am: for my Parents are unnatu∣ral, and take no care how to get me a Husband, and to see me maried.

Matron.

You may marry soon enough to repent.

Trifle.

I am sure I shall not repent: for to be a Wife, is a condition I am most desirous of, and cannot be happy any other way.

Matron.

And Wives think Maids only happy, because they are not vex'd nor troubled with a Husband.

Trifle.

Such women deserve no Husbands: for certainly a Husband is a joy and a comfort, as being a companion and a friend.

Matron.

But Husbands seldome keep in the company of their Wives, and many times, instead of a friend, prove an enemy.

Enter a Servant.

Trifle.

What, have you been at Mistris Fondly's House?

Servant.

Yes.

Trifle.

And have you inquir'd of her Maid as I bid you, whether the Re∣port is true, that her Mistris is to be maried?

Servant.

Yes.

Trifle.

And what said she?

Servant.

She said that a Gentleman did Treat with her Mistrisses Father, but they could not agree: for the Gentleman would have more portion than her Father would give, whereupon the Match is broke off.

Trifle.

I am glad of that: for I would not have her maried before me for all the World. But did you not see mistris Fondly?

Servant.

No: for her Maid said her Mistris, at the breaking off her Mari∣age, almost broke her heart: for she hath so afflicted her self, and hath so wept and sigh'd, as she is fallen sick, and keeps her Chamber.

Trifle.

Alas good Friend, I pity her extremely, but I will go with her, and try if I can comfort her.

Exeunt.

Scene 25.

Enter the Lady Prudence, to give her Answer to her Suter the Stran∣ger: The Assembly standing about, the Lady and Suter take their places:

PRudence.

Noble Sir, the Wit wherewith Nature, Time, and Education hath endu'd my tender brains, is like new kindled fire, that sparkling flies about, the fuel being green, and newly laid to burn, there is more smoke than flame: But since the time I heard you speak, a newer fire is kindled in my Heart, which equally doth burn with your profess'd Affections; and though your Person is none of Natures exactest Peeces, yet your Mind doth seem to be compos'd with all her best Ingredients; and sure your Thoughts set notes of Honour, Honestly, and Love, by which your Tongue plays Harmony. 'Tis not the sattin Skin, that's painted white and red, nor near-carv'd Bodies, can win my Love, nor Wealth, Titles, Birth, nor crown'd Power; but Truth, Sincerity, Constancy, Justice, Prudence, Courage, and Temperance, by which, as Magistrates, your life seems to be governed, which life I wish the Gods may Crown with happy days, and in Fames Tower long live your praise. I will not ask you from whence you came, nor what you are: For though you seem but poor and mean, Your Soul appears to me sublime.

Stranger.

And will you chuse me for your Husband, Lady?

Prudence.

I shall be proud to be your Wife, Sir.

Stranger.

The Gods are just to my pure Love, rewarding it with your ac∣ceptance; but I must beg your leave for some short time of Absence, and then I shall return, and claim your Promise.

Prudence.

You have the liberty, Sir.

Exit Strange Wooer.

The Lady Gravity speaks to the Lady Prudence.

Gravity.

Lady, surely you are in a High Feaver.

Prudence.

Why, Madam?

Gravity.

As to do so extravagant an Action, as to marry a man you know not what he is, nor from whence he came, and may prove as deformed in Mind as in Body, as mean of Birth, as poor in Parse, as beggars that live on cold dry Charity.

Prudence.

If he be poor, my Estate will make him rich; if humbly born, his Merits make him Honourable; from whence he comes I do not care, and where he will have me go, I will wait upon him, never questioning to what place.

Exit Lady Prudence.

Gravity.

Her Courage is beyond her Wit.

Liberty.

For the Example of this Lady, I would have a Law made, that there should be no more Publick Wooing.

Parle.

She hath cast away her self.

Minion.

Who can help it?

The Assembly go out, holding up their hands as at a wonder.

Scene 26.

Enter the Lady Mute, as being in a melancholy Humour. Enter Sir William Holdfast, as meeting her.

HOldfast.

Lady, why seem you so melancholy?

Mute.

My melancholy disposition is apt to catch hold on my e∣vil Fortunes, and both joyning together, help to multiply my sad thoughts.

Holdfast.

Why should you be sad?

Mute.

How can I be merry, when I am left destitute of Friends, and unac∣quainted with Experience.

Holdfast.

Nature hath furnish'd you with all store, you need none.

Mute.

If she had, yet all the good seeds that Nature and Education hath sown in me, and sprouted forth in bud, are nipt with Misfortunes, wither'd with Sorrows, blasted with Sighs, and drown'd in Tears.

Holdfast.

For what?

Mute.

For being inslav'd unto an unworthy person, who neither loves Vir∣tue, nor values Honour, but laughs at my youth, and flings scorns on my In∣nocency, which makes me almost murmur at Heaven, and apt to think the

Gods unjust, to let Fortune betray me to Power and Tyranny.

Holdfast.

Trouble not your self: for certainly your bondage may be taken off, if it be discreetly handled: for he seems willing to part with you upon easie terms; for you heard him offer to sell you.

Mute.

I wish I were worth your Purchase.

Holdfast.

Would you willingly change him for me?

Mute.

I cannot be worse; and you seem so noble a person, as perswades me to hope I may be happy.

Holdfast.

And if I had the whole World, I would give it for you, rather than not have you; and I should think my self more inrich'd by the enjoy∣ment, than if the Gods made new Worlds to present me.

Mute.

I have heard Heaven protects the Innocent, defends the Harm∣less, and provides for the Helpless; which if it doth, the Gods will give me you.

Exeunt.

Scene 27.

Enter Mistris Parle, Mistris Trifle, Mistris Fondly, Mistris Va∣nity, and one of the Matrons.

PArle.

Ha, ha, ha, Is this the young wife Lady that all the World ad∣mir'd for her Prudence and Judgment?

Vanity.

Faith her Judgment hath err'd in her choise.

Fondly.

I am glad: for now I may marry to whom I will, for I cannot choose worse; and my Father and Mother did bid me, nay charged me to imitate her.

Trifle.

So did mine.

Vanity.

And mine.

Parle.

Well, for my part I rejoyce: for now we shall have the old way of Wooing again, to imbrace and kiss in corners, to hear amorous and wan∣son discourse.

Fondly.

That way of wooing is best.

Vanity.

You say true: for I hate this way of wooing, there is no plea∣sure in it:

Parle.

No 'saith, to stand gazing and prating a mile asunder.

Matron.

You make short miles.

Parle.

Why, two inches is a Lovers mile, and three a long league.

Trifle.

It was not likely she should choose well, or ever be happily mar∣ried.

Matron.

Why so?

Trifle.

By reason she was curs'd by all the maids, back-holders, widows and widowers in the Town.

Matron.

But she had the prayers of all the maried women.

Parle.

But she had the curses of all the maried men: for they croud in amongst the back-holders sometimes.

Exeunt.

Scene 28.

Enter Sir Thomas Letgo, and the Lady Liberty.

LEtgo.

Sweet Madam, you are the Godess which my Thoughts adore,

Liberty.

You flatter.

Letgo.

Love cannot flatter: for Lovers think all their praises truth.

Liberty.

The Lady Mute is your Godess.

Letgo.

If there were no other Godess of your Sex but she, I should become an Insidel to love, nay an Atheist, believing there were no such De∣ity as Love.

Exeunt.

Scene 29.

Enter the Lady Prudence, and Intelligencer her Woman.

INtelligencer.

Madam, all the Town condemns you.

Prudence.

And do you condemn me too?

Intelligen.

No, Madam: for I am bound, as being your servant, to submit to your will, liking, and pleasure.

Prudence.

Why, the choise is honest: for they may swear I am not ena∣mour'd with his Person: But had he been a fair Youth, or known to be a debanch'd Man, they might have justly condemn'd me, either for my fond Affection and amorous Love, or wilde Choice.

Intelligencer.

'Faith they may thiak your Choise is wilde, by reason you have chosen out of a Labyrinth, not knowing where his beginning or end is.

Prudence.

Why Virtue is the Beginning, and Happiness, I hope, will be the End.

Intelligen.

I wish it may prove so Madam.

Prudence.

But pray tell me, Did you ever hear me speak worse than I did to him?

Intelligen.

How do you mean, Madam, in that you gave your self away?

Prudence.

No, in that I did not present my self more Eloquently.

Intelligen.

Methought your Speech did not flow so smooth as it was us'd to do, as if your Tongue did know you did commit a fault in granting to his Sute.

Prudence.

No truly; for my desire did out-run my speech: for desiring to speak best to him I loved most, obstructed my Tongue, which made my words run unevenly.

Intelligen.

That's a common misfortune: for when any one strives to speak wisely, they most often speak foolishly.

Prudence.

'Tis true; for strife is an enemy to speech: for those that speak not free and easie, never speak well.

For when as Passion wrestles with the Tongue, The Sense is weak, and down the words are slung,

Exeunt.

Scene 30.

Enter two Gentlemen.

1 GEntleman.

'Tis strange the Lady Prudence, that is so beautiful, rich, and nobly born, and hath so great a wit, should chuse a man so poor and mean, and so ill-favour'd.

2 Gentlem.

In my opinion it is not strange: for certainly there is a sympathy between the spirits of virtuous souls, which begets love, although in de∣formed persons: And this is the true Love; for that which proceeds from Covetousness, or Ambition, or is produced by the Senses, is rather an Ap∣petite, which is apt to surfet, or dies as soon as enjoy'd, or turns with For∣tunes wheel.

1 Gentlem.

Well, I wish for the Ladies sake, who is known to be Virtu∣ous, her Husband may prove as Virtuous as she.

Exeunt.

Scene 31.

Enter a Grave Matron, Mistris Fondly, Mistris Vanity, Mistris Trifle, and Mistris Parle?

MAtron.

Ladies, do you hear the News?

Parle.

VVhat News?

Matron.

VVhy Mistris Simple is gone very early this morning out of Town with Sir Anthony Gosling; and 'tis said they will be maried before they return.

Vanity.

I cannot believe it: for she was the most unlikely to be maried of any of us all.

Parle.

I perceive that Maid that can have Fortune to be her friend, shall not want a Husband.

Fondly.

You say true; and Fortune is a better friend than our Parents are: for our Parents are contented we should live Maids all the time of our lives, when Fortune (most commonly) gives Maids Husbands at one time or other.

Matron.

Ladies, why do you complain of your Parents for their wary care? who would not have you marry, but to such Husbands as you may be happy withall, and therefore are cautious how to chuse, when Fortune makes Matches at Random.

Fondly.

I had rather marry at Random, than not marry at all.

Matron.

Why then (perchance) in stead of a worthy person, you may marry a base fellow; and in stead of a rich husband, a beggar.

Parle.

Those women that are curious in their Choise, may chance to die old Maids.

Matron.

'Tis better to die an old Maid, than to live a miserable life, which will be, if an unhappy Wife.

Vanity.

There is no misery like being an old Maid.

She sings a piece of an old Song

O that I were so happy once to be a wedded Wife, I would fulfil my Husbands will all the days of my life.

Parle.

I doubt I may sing the Song that says,

O pity take upon me now some gentle Bodie, And give me the Willow-Branch, for no man will have me.

Trifle

And I may sing this old Song.

I wander up and down, And no body cares for me: Although I be but poor and brown, Yet constant will I be.

Fondly.

And I may sing this old Ballad.

Every Bird can choose his Mate, The Wren can do the same, The Fish and Fowl their pleasures take, They follow after Game. But I, poor I, poor silly I, Do sigh and sorrow still, Yea night and day I wear away, Wanting my wished will.

Matron.

Come, come, Ladies, you are all so desirous to marry, and so impatient because you are not maried, as I doubt when you are maried, your Husbands may sing the Song of Cuckolds all a row.

Parle.

It were better for us that our Husbands should be Cuckolds, than we lead Apes in Hell.

Exeunt.

ACT IV.

Scene 32.

Enter as weeping the Lady Prudence, and her Woman, Intelli∣gencer.

INtelligen.

Why do you weep, Madam?

Prudence.

Have I not reason, when one I chose for Honesty proves false, and publickly strives for to disgrace me, by breaking of his Promise, and Ap∣pointed day of Mariage?

Intellig.

Perchance he could not come, some Accident hath hinder'd him.

Prudence.

He might have sent me word the reason of his stay.

Intelligen.

It is likely he is not so rich, as to hire a Messenger.

Prudence.

Some would have done it for Charity.

Intelligen.

'Faith Charity is lazie, and will not go without Reward.

Prudence.

If he had loved Me or Honour, he would have found some means or ways.

Enter her Servant the Strange Wooer.

Stranger.

My Virtuous sweet Mistris, what makes such showrs of Tears in Sun-shine Eyes?

Prudence.

O Sir, I thought you had forsaken me, and left me to the Worlds wilde scorn.

Stranger.

I should sooner forsake Life, Fame, and Heaven, than forsake you.

He kisses her hand

Stranger.

Will you have your Friends to your Wedding, Mistris?

Prudence.

If you please, Sir: for I am not asham'd of my Choise, nor shall I be asham'd of my Mariage.

Stranger.

Nor I, of my self; and for you, the Gods may envy me.

Exeunt.

Scene 33.

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

PArle.

Shall we go to visit Mistris Simple? she that is now my Lady Gos∣ling, and bid her joy.

Vanity.

Yes, if you will: for I long to see how she looks, now she is a Wife.

Trifle.

So do I, and to see how she behaves her self, since she is maried.

Matron.

She is now, Ladies, for the conversation of Wives, and not for the society of Maids; her discourse will be now of Houshold Affairs, as of Houswifry, and of her Husband, and of Children, and hired servants, and not Suters and Courtiers, not Fashions, nor Dressings; neither will she re∣turn your Visits: for her Visitings will be to other maried Wives, and her time will be spent at Labours, Christenings, Churchings, and other Matri∣monial Gossippings and Meetings.

Parle.

Howsoever we will go visit her.

Fondly.

I wish we may see her Husband with her, to see if he be kind to her, or not.

Parle.

If he be not kind to her, and hath been maried but two or three days, he will never be kind.

Trifle.

I wonder whether he will kiss her when we are by.

Parle.

Yes certainly: for new-maried men and their wives take a pleasure to kiss before company.

Fondly.

Hey ho, that maried Wives should have such pleasures, when Maids have none.

Exeunt.

Scene 34.

Enter Sir Thomas Letgo, with other Gentlemen.

This Scene of Sir Thomas Letgo, the Lord Marquiss writ.

LEtgo.

O unfortunate villain! that I should be such a Coxcomb, such a Fool, to lose five thousand pounds at Dice! Those bones spotted with the small Pox, the great Pox take them for me, and the Plague to boot: for they have plagued me, and yet I have not a token left about me.

1 Gent.

You may borrow more.

Letgo.

Borrow, you Puppy, you, my land's intail'd, a perpetuity, I have nothing but for life, like a Serving-mans Annuity, or an old Ladies Joynture, no body will lend me any thing; and now I must eat grass and hay: for we are all mortal they say, and they choke me with that. Pox of my Grand∣fathers and Fathers provident Wisedomes, with their learned Counsels in the Law; but I hope all their souls fry in Hell for't, that's my com∣fort.

2 Gent.

'Tis a hard case, that a young Gentleman cannot undoe himself for those Fetters and Bonds of Parchment; truly it is cruel.

Letgo.

I, is it not Iack, to be tied thus, like a dog to a cup-board, and in chains too, that he cannot gnaw or bite them asunder?

3 Gent.

Faith Sir, 'tis a strange thing, that a man should venture to play his money, whether it should be his or another mans.

Letgo.

No Dick, you are deceiv'd, I play whether his money should be mine or his. O unfortunate Rogue that I am! and that foolish Star-gazer, the Astrologer, never to see it in my Nativity neither when he cast it! Those Knaves and Fools, to talk of things that they have no guess at what they are, as if the seven Planets, or the twelve Houses, had to do with a cast of Dice, a sine nimble Cheater is worth a thousand of them. Rogue that I am! And now comes in such a consideration into my brain upon my Re∣pentance.

1 Gent.

As how pray?

Letgo.

As how? why if I had this current running money, nay rather, it hath wings, and flies beyond the Fiction of Pegasus: why, if I had it, how I would bestow it for the good of the Common-wealth, as thus: What rich Apparel, with Imbroyderies of gold, and silver, and silk? what Feathers and Mistrisses? what gilt Paris Coaches, Pages, and Lacquies, sa••s number, in rich liveries? what Coachmen, Pos••ilions, with six Flanders Horses, to strike with amazement the whole street as I pass? what running Horses, Hounds, Hawks, Cocks, Greyhounds? what delicious Banquets, Spanish Perfumes, most odoriferous, soft Musick, that should lull the soul asleep, sumptuous Furnitures, so as I would surfet the Senses, and make the seven Deadly Sins live like Princes?

And set up Sin and Vanity to the hight, Since those are still the Gentlemens delight.

But O my money is gone, which cuts off all my hopes of exercising all those virtuous ways! well, let me cogitate, and boy, give me a melancholy Pipe to cloud all hopes of joys with sadder thoughts.

He gives him his Pipe.

1 Gent.

Truly 'tis pity he hath lost his money: for you hear how Religi∣ously he would have spent it.

2 Gent.

Most like a Gentleman, I must needs say that for him.

3 Gent.

Most piously indeed; but prethee let us walk for a while, lest we should disturb his Thoughts: no more Discourse, but let us tie our Tongues.

1 Gent.

Content, till his be loose.

They sit mute a time, while he sits musing.

2 Gent.

What Contemplation now?

Letgo.

Pious and charitable ones. But this damn'd money, this runnagado, this vagabond money!

1 Gent.

But if you had a statute to whip her home to her own Parish, it would do well.

Letgo.

I Iack, but there is no such law, the more the pity; but this abo∣minable money disorders all the World. What work makes it betwixt Pa∣rents and Children, Husbands and Wives, Brothers and Sisters, Masters and Servants, Landlords and Tenants, Citizens and their Prentices, Mistrisses and their Maids, and between Kings and their subject? Corrupts all the World, breaks Friendship, betrays Friends, raises Rebellions, commits Treason, and corrupts Virgins: It is the Pander and Bawd to all business; the States-man is fed by this damn'd Lady Pecunia, the Lawyer serves her, the Merchants her slave, the Shop-keeper her vassal, and the Countryman her Tenant, Lords and Ladies her pensioners, and greatest Monarchs pay tribute to her; the Logician argues for her, the Orator pleads for her, and many Ecclesiasticals preach for her, the Vicar General and his Conclave are rul'd by her, and the poor Poet, she draws his copperas from his ink, and makes him flatter her. This horrid Lady Sorceress, so to bewitch the World! Is there no law a∣gainst this Enchantress, that thus doth still abuse the World, and all that's in it? The very Souldiers sword is charmed by her, and all his guns are si∣lent at her presence. This she-devil!

3 Gentlem.

But I would you had your she-devil again for all that: But what Pious and Charitable Consideration had you, if you had your money again?

Letgo.

Marry Sir, First I would build an Hospital for decay'd Ladies that were maim'd in Venus's wars, losing a nose, or so, never yet any care taken of them, the more is the pity.

2 Gent.

Very good: and what next?

Letgo.

Next I would buy such a piece of ground, and build a Bedlam, and then put in all such Divines as preach themselvs out of their power and riches; and I would put all such Lawyers in, as pleaded themselves out of pra∣ctice; and all such Citizens as petition'd themselves out of trade.

3 Gentlem.

These are good and pious Acts: But would not you provide a place or means for such as were undone by playing at Dice and Cards, and the like.

Letgo.

No, they should have only Fools Coats to be known by, and I would be the Master of them.

Exeunt.

Here ends my Lord Marquiss of Newcastles Writing

Scene 35.

Enter Mistris Parle, Mistris Trifle, Mistris Vanity, Mistris Fondly, and a Matron, to the Lady Gosling: These all bid her Ioy; She thanks them in a low Voice, and a constrain'd and for∣mal Behaviour, and a foolish grave Countenance.

TRifle.

How doth your Husband, Madam?

Lady Gosling.

I hope he's well, he's gone abroad.

Parle.

You look pale since you were maried.

Gosling.

I was not very well this morning: for I could not eat my Break∣fast; truly I have lost my stomack since I have been maried.

Vanity.

Perchance you are breeding.

Gosling.

Oh sie, no surely; but yet my Maid laughs, and tells me I am.

Matron.

I hope, Lady, you are not breeding already? for you have not been maried above three days.

Gosling.

I have heard that some have been with Child as soon as they were maried; and my Maid told me she served a Mistris, who, the next day she was maried was with Child.

Matron.

By my Faith that was very soon.

The Lady Gosling pulls off her Glove to take her Hand∣kerchief, a pretence to shew her Wedding-ring.

Fondly.

Me thinks it is strange to see you have a Wedding-ring on your Thumb.

Gosling.

You will come to wear a Wedding-ring on your Thumb one of these days.

Trifle.

What is the Posie?

Gosling.

I like too well to change.

Parle.

'Tis well you do: for if you did not, you could hardly change, un∣less your Husband dies.

Gosling.

Heaven forbid: for I would not have him die for all the World; for he is one of the lovingest and fondest Husbands that ever was.

Matron.

The first Moneth is a fond Moneth, Lady.

Parle.

And are you fond of him?

Gosling.

Yes truly: for I hang about his neck when he is at home.

Matron.

But you will weary your Husband, Lady, if you hang a long time.

Gosling.

I would very sain you did see my Husband.

Parle.

We much desire so to do.

She calls her Maid Joan: The Maid an∣swers as within, Madam.

Gosling.

Is your Master, Sir Anthony Gossing, come home yet?

Maid.

No, Madam.

Gosling.

In truth he is too blame to stay out so long, knowing I am not well when he is away.

Vanity.

Are you sick in his absence?

Gosling.

I am best pleas'd when he is with me.

Matron.

New-maried Wives are always so; but after they have been maried some time, they are worst pleased when their Husbands are with them.

Exeunt.

Scene 36.

Enter the Lady Prudence as a Bride that's very finely drest in glori∣ous Apparel, her Brdegroom in poor old cloaths: He leads her as to the Church, limping with his Wooden Leg. The Bridal Guests seem to make signs of scorning as they follow.

They all go out but two Gentlemen.

1 GEntlem.

Me thinks it is a strange sight to see such a Bride, and such a Bridegroom. I do imagine them to be like Pluto and Proserpine.

2 Gent.

Nay rather, they are like Venus and Vulcan.

1 Gent.

But she is too chaste to entertain a Mars to Cuckold him.

2 Gent.

It is to be hop'd she will take her liberty with variety: for extra∣vagant love is seldom constant.

1 Gent.

If that rule prove true, he may be a Cuckold indeed.

2 Gent.

'Tis likely he will: for women chuse to marry such deformed men a purpose; first to excuse their fault, thinking the World will never con∣demn them, their Husbands being ill-favour'dly mis-shapen, or thinking their Husbands will be well content, knowing their own infirmities, to be a sharer.

1 Gent.

But I wonder she did not new-cloath him: for though he is not so rich to buy himself a Wedding-Suit, yet she hath means enough to buy him many several suits, and rich.

2 Gent.

There was no time to make him Wedding-cloaths, because he came not till his Wedding-day.

1 Gent.

Well, let us go see them maried, and wish them joy.

Exeunt.

Scene 37

Enter Sir Thomas Letgo, Sir William Holdfast, and two or three other Gentlemen.

So far of this Scene as Sir Thomas Letgo's, the Marquis of Newcastle writ.

LEtgo.

Since my losses, I have such a desire of Revenge, as my fingers itch to be at it, and the Palsie is in my eldow with the imagination of throw∣ing those partial bones, call'd by the Vulgar, Dice; they say they are square fellows, but I doubt it: Well, have at them, whatsoever comes on't; for I long more for them, than the great Belly that long'd to bite her Husbands Nose, or to give him a box on the Ear; or she that threw her loas into a barrel of Tar; and if I have not my longings, in my Conscience I shall mis∣carry.

1 Gent.

Take heed Sir, that you do not miscarry, if you have the Dice.

2 Gent.

How can he do that? for he hath nothing to miscarry withall, not a farthing, his pockets swell not; 'tis but an imaginary Child, a windy or watry Mole, or a Moon-calf; he needs no Dice to be his Midwife for the La∣dy Pecunia, a meer Timpany of the Fancy, and nothing else.

Letgo.

O Iack, thou art cruel! there is nothing so horrid as truth to a Gen∣tleman, and such truths too. I know not what to do with my self: for I can∣not be alone, those are such foolish fellows that have parts, as they call them, and I hate both them and their parts.

Enters the Lady Mute as passing.

Look here is my foolish Mistris, by the Gods I'll play her, I'll set her you, Sir William Holdfast, what will you stake against her?

He stays her from passing.

Holdfast.

Sir, a Lady, and such a Lady, is beyond price unvaluable.

Letgo.

Come, come, leave your Courtship to Ladies, and throw, and have at her.

Holdfast.

Why Sir, with the Ladies leave, I will set you five thousand pound.

Letgo.

Five thousand pound? why she hath two thousand pound land a year man, and is an Heir.

Holdfast.

But I consider a Wife is chargeable: for I shall maintain her ac∣cording to her Birth, and my own Honour; besides, children will come on, and they are chargeable.

Letgo.

For her charge, I will maintain her as cheap as a Changeling, a Dairy-maid, or a Kitchin-wench: why, she is a fool, and for children, you will not have them the first day certainly; but her Estate will maintain her, and make thee rich; besides, a witty Wife is a curse, and a fool but a Trouble.

Holdfast.

But I consider there are two Joyntures goe out of her Estate.

Letgo.

VVhy, they are so old, they will both pick over the Pearch the next Fall, and die of the Frownsies; or if not, I will present thee with a little Rats∣banc for them, to put in their Caudles.

Holdstast.

VVell Sir, I honour the Lady so much, as I will set ten thousand pound against her.

Letgo.

By the Gods, make it but fifreen thousand, and here I set her.

Holdfast.

Content, and we will take one anothers words, and these Noble Gentlemen shall be the witnesses.

Letgo.

VVith all my Soul. Give me the Dice, they that throw most at three throws with three dice, let them win: for three is the Ladies number But first let me invoke them.

He kneels down.

Thou Lady Fortune, here I do implore thee, Now metamorphos'd into Dice that's three My better Fate with Sixes to be crown'd, Thy Favourite winning fifteen thousand pound.

Holdfast.

Throw Sir, without any more Invocation of this various Godess.

Sir Thomas Letgo takes the Lady Mute by the hand, and sets her close to the Table they play on.

Letgo.

Come, you Fool, stand here on my side, and now have at your mo∣ney Sir. Two fives and a six? 'tis well; again, two fixes and a five? I thank thee Lady Fortune, if I win, thou shalt never be call'd a whore again, but a virtuous and pious Lady; once again, three sixes? Sweet Lady Fortune, how have they wronged thee heretofore, in laying their own follies to thy charge! Malicious lying Detractors, that defame Ladies thus.

Here take the Dice, which are so square and new, And bid your fifteen thousand pound adieu.

Holdfast.

You will give me leave to throw Sir (Throws) what is that, three sixes?

Letgo.

Well, again.

Holdfast.

Three sixes again? I vow I believe she is a Virtuous Lady in∣deed.

Letgo.

I cannot tell yet, I will not take upon me for the noblest Lady in the World, throw again, and I will tell you.

Holdfast.

Why then have at your Mistris; three sixes again? O Virtuous Lady Fortune!

Letgo.

By the Gods, Iack, the Lady Fortune is a whore, a pocky whore.

1 Gent.

Why did you meddle with her then? I knew you would get a Clap.

Letgo.

Nay I have got two; but now I shall have a strict Diet that will cure me.

Here ends my Lord Marquisses writing.

When Holdfast hath won, he speaks to the Lady Mute.

Holdfast.

Are you pleased with my Fortune?

She speaks very softly.

Mute.

Yes.

Holdfast.

It is an injury to Nature to whisper out your words, but rather they should be blown abroad by Fames loud Trumpet.

She speaks louder.

Mute.

Had I Rhetorick, as I have none, the loudness of the voice would take away the Elegance of the Speech, and drown the sense of the Subject: But I desire you, and all the rest of this Company may know, I am so well pleased with the Change, as for this Act of Fortunes savour, I shall become a Votress to Her Deity, for whom I will build an Altar more famous than Mausolus's Tomb; it shall be built with Rhetorick, polished with Eloquence, carved with Allegories, pensil'd with Fancies, and gilded with Praise; the Materials shall be wise Brains, honest Hearts, and eloquent Tongues; on this Altar shall burn the Fire of Life, and all the Actions of Industry shall be of∣fered thereon.

Letgo.

What, can you speak?

Mute.

I am not dumb, although my name is Mute.

Letgo.

You were almost as silent as if you were dumb, all the time you were mine.

Mute.

'Tis true; but now I am set at liberty, my Tongue can run freely.

Letgo.

Why, you are as much bound to him now, as you were to me before.

Mute.

I account this bondage a freedom: for none can be a slave that is bound to a worthy person, who hath a noble nature.

Holdfast.

Pray Sir Thomas Letgo do not Court my fortunate Mistris: for though you thought her a fool, I know her to be both wise, and also to have a great Wit.

Mute.

I fear my wit is but an Infant-wit, and lies in swathling-clouts a∣sleep in the cradle of obscurity: But Time may give it growth, and practice strength, and experience may bring it into the light of knowledge.

Letgo.

If you had no Affection for me, yet you might have had so much civility, as to have exprest your self sociable.

Mute.

Civility doth not bind any one to divulge their own infirmities, as to express their ignorance by their discourse; besides, for my part, I was so bashful and fearful, lest I should cause errours, and make such defects as were not naturally in me, but only produced by innocent ignorance, which made me choose silence to shun scorns; but I found it was not a sufficient defence.

Enter the Lady Liberty, and the other Ladies. One of the Gentlemen speaks to them.

1 Gent.

Here is a Miracle, not only that the dumb speaks, but she that was thought a natural Fool, proves a great Wit.

All the Ladies laugh, and repeat scornfully, a wit, a wit.

Mute.

That word, Wit, that those Ladies return in scorn, I with Industry will make it like a reflection, to cause a double light, and give a greater heat of Sense, Reason, and Judgment, Fancy and Phrase.

Then she speaks to Sir William Holdfast.

Sir, if I behave my self indiscreetly, impute it to an over-flowing joy; and those follies I commit, are not by Nature born, nor yet by Education bred in me.

Holdfast.

Sweet Mistris, you can no more be guilty of a fault, than Angels

in Ioves Mansion. Fare you well, Sir Thomas Letgo, the Lady Liberty will counterpoize your losses.

Sir William Holdfast goes out, leacting forth his Mi∣stris the Lady Mute, whereat Sir Thomas Letgo frowns.

Liberty.

Let her go, Sir Thomas Letgo: for if she be not a Fool, for cer∣tain she is wanton, or otherwise she would not be so well pleas'd with change.

Letgo.

He hath affronted me.

Sir Thomas goes out frowning. The company speak to the Lady Liberty.

1 Gent.

There is no change so visible, as the most opposite: but Sir Tho∣mas Letgo is both troubled and angry: wherefore Lady Liberty, you had best try to pacifie him.

Liberty.

He is like little children, which despise what they have, but cry when they are taken from them.

Exeunt.

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.

Scene 39.

Enter Sir Thomas Letgo, and the Lady Liberty.

Letgo.

Was it not enough to win, but to affront me with my losses?

Liberty.

Its true; they say Losers have only leave to speak, but Winners may be merry.

Letgo.

Was there no subject for his mirth but I?

Enter Sir William Holdfast, and his Mistris, the Lady Mute.

Letgo.

You are a false cheating fellow.

Holdfast.

You are a base lying Villain, for saying so.

Letgo.

You have cozen'd me of my Mistris, and I will have her again.

Holdfast.

I have won her saitly and honestly, and I will keep her with my Life.

They both draw and fight. Mute runs to Sir William Holdfast, and cries out.

Mute.

For Heaven-sake leave off to sight for me, I am not worth the life you hazard for me.

He speaks while he fights.

Holdfast.

Sweet Mistris, fear not, Death hath no power on me, so long as you stand by.

They fight still.

Mute.

O let my sad complaints, like murmuring Rivers, flow thorough your Ears, that running into your Heart, may move it to a gentle pity.

Enter company, and parts them.

Liberty.

You should have let them fight, to see whether Portune hath the same power on their Swords, as she hath on the Dice? whether she can dis∣pose of Life and Death, as of Honour and Riches?

Letgo.

You may part us now, but we shall meet again.

Sir Thomas and the company go out, only Sir William and the Lady Mute stays. The Lady Mute weeps.

Holdfast.

My dear Mistris, what makes your eyes to flow?

Mute.

As my tears flow thorough my eyes, so I wish my life may flow thorough my tears, then might you live in safety.

Holdfast.

Let not your love to me make waste of such Tears, that every drop might save a Life, nay save a Soul, they are so pure and penetrating. But your fears doe apprehend my Foe more dangerous than he is.

Exeunt.

ACT V.

Scene 40.

A Bed is thrust on the Stage, as presenting the Bride-chamber, the Bride being in the Bed finely drest, and a company of young Ladies her Companions about her.

TRifle.

'Faith confess to us your Maiden-companions, do not you repent?

Prudence.

So fat am I from repentance, as I should repent, were I not as now I am.

Vanity.

You will repent before seven years.

Parle.

Seven years? you mean seven days: for seven years to our Sex, is se∣ven Ages; for Maids and Widows account it so before their mariage, and maried Wives do account time so until their Husbands die.

Fondly.

'Faith I think there are few women, but when they marry, hope to be Widows.

Parle.

That's certain; and were it not for such hopes, men would hardly get Wives.

Enter the Bridegroom, and a company of Gentlemen and Knights; then enters a ser∣vant with a rich night-gown or Mantle, another servant with a rich Cap, Waste∣coat, and Slippers: Then the Bridegroom first pulls off his patch from his Eye, then pulls off his bumbast Doublet, and then his wooden Leg, and his snarled Periwig, having a sine head of hair of his own; then puts on his wastcoat, cap, slippers, and night-gown, he then appearing very handsome, the company staring upon him, the mean time they as in amazement, He speaks to the Ladies.

Bridegroom.

Fair Ladies, as other men strive to adorn themselves, to mend their broken Bodies, and patch up their decays with false and feigned shews, to cozen credulous women, that think them such as they appear, when they abuse your sweet & gentle natures: But lest my Wife should think me better than I am, or expect more than I could give her, I formed my self far worse than Nature made me; nor have I promised more than well I can perform.

And if she lov'd me crooked, lame, and blind, Now I am perfect, she'll not be less kind.

The Bed drawn off, the Bridegroom follows, the men go out with him as in a maze, only Mistris Trifle, Va∣nity, and Parle slays.

Parle.

Heyday, Riddle me, riddle me, what's this? A man blind, and not blind, lame, and not lame, crooked, and not crooked, ill-favour'd, and handsome.

Trifle.

'Faith it is like the Tale of the great Bear of warwick.

Vanity.

What Tale was that?

Trifle.

Why of a King that had three Daughters, and when they were of mariageable years, the King their Father ask'd them whether they had ra∣ther to have a Husband that were a man a days, and a beast at nights, or a Husband that was a beast at days, and a man at nights? and if they would marry, they must choose one of those that were sometimes men, and some∣times beasts, or otherwise they must never marry; but they, rather than to live old Maids, were resolved to marry, were their Husbands at all times beasts: so the two eldest chose to have their Husbands men a days, and beasts at nights; for, said they, we can conceal their beastliness at nights, but not a days, for the light will divulge them to the publick view of the World; but the youngest chose a Husband, one that was a beast a days, and a man at nights: for, said she, I will please my self, not caring what the World thinks or says: for I am sure, said she, the World cares not what I think or say; whereupon they were all three maried, and the youngest Ladies Husband was a great Bear a days, but a very handsome man at nights.

Parle.

O that every woman were so well match'd! for then they would be always pleased, and never jealous: for in the day-time, when men doe Court and plead Loves Sute, and point out private meetings,

They have no words to wooe, nor persons for to win, And in the night their Wives their Arms do circle in.

Trifle.

But say your Husband the He-bear, should meet a Mistris She-bear, I believe you would be jealous then.

Parle.

I confess I should be somewhat lumpish.

Enter Mistris Fondly, and a Matron.

Fondly.

Hey, ho!

Parle.

VVhat is the cause you sigh?

Fondly.

Nature never made so handsome a man as the Bridegroom.

Matron.

And you sigh because you are not the Bride.

Fondly.

'Faith the Devil tempts me to break a Commandement.

Matron.

VVhat Commandement?

Fondly.

To covet my Neighbours goods.

Parle.

Why he is no part of your Neighbours goods, unless he be a good man.

Fondly.

Well, he is a goodly man, and whether he is a man that is good, I cannot tell: But howsoever I will never trust the outside more, I will never believe a patch'd eye is blind, nor a bunch'd back is crooked, nor a wooden leg lame, as long as I live.

Parle.

And if you will not believe it whilst you live, when you are dead, I doubt you will forget it; but howsoever the Devil tempts me as much as you to covet him that's none of mine.

Matron.

Pray Ladies give me leave to remember you, in that you said you would not be his Bride, were it the way to make you Empress of the whole World.

Parle.

'Tis true; but then we were blind of one eye as he was; but now we see with both our eyes as he doth.

Fondly.

Come, let us go into the Bride-chamber, and out-dare his beauty on the forfeiture of our hearts.

Parle.

You need not go to seek Love: for he will catch you, although you run away.

Fondly.

And you will catch Love, if with the Bridegroom stay.

Parle.

I doubt that.

Exeunt.

Scene 41.

Enter Sir Thomas Letgo, and the Lady Liberty.

LIberty.

Let me perswade you to be friends: for if you seem to mourn for that which you made slight of, and to quarrel unjustly, and sight for for that you cannot have, nor is not rightly yours, you will be thought im∣prudent, shunn'd as a wrangling Gamester, and accounted a Ranting Di∣sturber, and laught at for a fool, for setting such a Mistris at a stake you thought too much to lose; but if you will save your Reputation, you must seem to rejoyce you are quit of her.

Letgo.

Well, I will take your counsel; and I have this satisfaction, That I am not the first man that hath been deceiv'd by Women, nor shall not be the last.

Liberty.

That's true; and so generally it is known, as 'tis become an or∣dinary saying, and the saying will be made good as long as mankind lasts: for

though men may dissemble to women, yet it is women that deceive men, and we glory in it.

Exeunt.

Scene 42.

Enter two Gentlemen.

1 GEnt.

Do you hear the News?

2 Gent.

What News?

1 Gent.

Why the Bridegroom is prov'd to be the Great Duke of Gran∣dy's Son.

2 Gent.

How so?

1 Gent.

Why you have heard that the old Prince of Grandy had two Sons, and the younger Son would not be perswaded from going to Travel, and it was reported he was drownd in a Voyage by Sea, for which his Father mourn'd a long time, as loving him extremely; and you know, to add to his afflictions, his Eldest Son dies, so as he became as childless, until this time that his Son is returned safe, for which he is the most joy'd man that e∣ver was, and is so fond of the Prince his Son, as he continually imbraces and kisses him, and hangs about his neck like a fond Bride.

2 Gent.

Why did he come so privately, and in a disguise?

1 Gent.

As for his private comming home, the reason was, That having oftentimes ask'd the Magor, to return into his own Country, and being as of∣ten deny'd, and at last threaten'd to be destroy'd if he should offer to go a∣way, and quit the Magor's Service: for this Prince was General of all his Forces, and was the man that the Merchants cry'd up to be another Iulius Caesar, although they knew not of what birth or quality he was of; but to get away, he was forc'd to steal away in a disguise, in which disguise he wooed and won his Lady, the now Princess: for whilst he lay privately in the City, until such time as he could hansomly & conveniently discover him∣self, he hearing the talk of the Publick Wooing, and also of the Virtue, Beau∣ty, and Wit of the young Lady, went to hear and to see her, whom he no sooner heard and saw, and being taken with her good Fame, honouring her Virtue, admiring her Beauty, and being extremely delighted with her Wit, became a Lover, and also a VVooer; but for the better trial of her Virtue, he wooed her in his disguised, deformed shape, and unknown quality, left his Dignity and VVealth might have inticed her Ambition, and not his Merit, to have won her Love, or his Person might have catch'd her Eye, but not his Love her Heart.

2 Gent.

The Gods are just, rewarding in the end the good intentions with good success, and Virtue with felicity.

Exeunt.

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.

Scene 44.

Enter the Lady Parrot, and the Lady Minion, and the La∣dy Gosling.

PArrot.

God give you Joy, I have not seen you since you were maried.

Minion.

You are welcome into the maried Society.

Gosling.

I thank you Madam. Truly I am so tyr'd.

Parrot.

With what, Madam?

Gosling.

With helping my Neighbour the Lady Breeder to hold her back.

Minion.

VVhy, is she in Labour?

Gosling.

She is brought to Bed; but on my word she hath had a hard bar∣gain: for she hath had a sore Labour.

Parrot.

VVhat hath God sent her?

Gosling.

A lusty boy. Indeed it is one of the goodliest children that ever I saw.

Minion.

But how chance she did not send for me to her Labour?

Gosling.

She came on such a sudden, as she had hardly Time to send for the Midwife; but she was mightily troubled you were not there, she doubts you will take it ill.

Parrot.

We have reason: for if we could not have come time enough to her Labour, we might have come time enough to the cup of Rejoycing.

Gosling.

But she will bid you to the Christening.

Minion.

That's some amends: But this hard labour of the Lady Breeders will fright you.

Gosling.

No: for I have as much courage as other maried Wives have, though truly, Sir Anthony Gosling, my Husband, was very loth I should goe: for (said he to me) prethee sweet Duck do not go: I answer'd and said to him, my hony-love I must go, for it is the part of one wife to help another; besides, a gossipping company doth help to ease the womens pains; and if I go not to their Labour, they will not come to mine.

Minion.

Why, are you with Child?

Gosling.

No, but I hope I shall be shortly.

Parrot.

Come, we will go and chide your Husband, that he hath been ma∣ried a week, and his Wife not with child.

Lady Gosling.

Yes, pray goe chide him, and I will bear your company.

Exeunt.

Scene 45.

Enter the Prince and Princess.

PRincess.

Sir, pray perswade the unmaried Ladies to dance: for I can∣not intreat them.

Prince.

That's strange: for Ladies will dance without intreating; for no intreating will make them sit still.

Princess.

It seems they are not in their dancing-humour to day: for every one finds some excuse for to deny.

Prince.

Let them alone, and take no notice of their reserved humours, and they will dance without intreating; nay, they will intreat you they may dance.

Enter a Gentleman.

Gentlem.

If it please your Highness, the Ladies desire you would give them leave to Celebrate your Mariage with their Mirth, and to express their Joy with their Dancing.

Prince.

We shall take it as a Favour to our Nuptials.

Exit Gentleman.

Prince.

Did not I tell you they would desire to dance?

Princess.

Truly I was so ignorant, as I knew not so much the nature of our Sex.

Prince.

You knew not so much of their follies.

Exeunt.

Scene 46.

Enter Mistris Parle, Mistris Fondly. Mistris Trifle, Mistris Vanity.

VAnity.

Let us strive to make the Bride jealous.

Parle.

That's impossible now; but you may not work to good effect some a half a year hence.

Fondly.

Why I have known a Bridegroom leer her the next day he was ma∣ried.

Trifle.

Perchance a Bridegroom may: for men are sooner cloy'd than women; but a Bride will fondly hang about her Husbands neck a week at least.

Parle.

A week? nay a moneth: for a woman is fond the first moneth, sick the second moneth, peevish the third moneth, coy the fourth moneth, false the fifth moneth, and Cuckolds her Husband the sixth moneth.

Fondly.

Then a maried man sprouts Horns in half a year.

Parle.

Yes: for they are set the day of his mariage, and some half a year after they are budded, but not so fully grown as to appear to the pub∣lick view.

Trifle.

But will nothing hinder the growth?

Parle.

No 'faith, but Death; and Death, like a Frost, doth nip those ten∣der buds.

Vanity.

Which death, the mans, or the womans?

Parle.

The womans: for if the man dies, and his Widow marries again, the dead Husband is horn'd in his Grave, and the living Husband is horn'd in his Bed.

Vanity.

Then their Horns may be put together, as Stags in Rutting∣time.

Fondly.

I had rather make Horns, than talk of Horns; therefore I'll go dance.

Exeunt.

Scene 47.

Enter two Gentlemen.

1 GEntlem.

Where have you been?

2 Gent.

At Church.

1 Gent.

Did a sit of Devotion hurry you to the Church to pray?

2 Gent.

No 'faith, I went not to pray, but to joyn a pair of Lovers hands in Wedlocks Bonds: for they chose me to be their Father, to give them in the Church.

1 Gent.

What Lovers were they, that were so foolish to marry?

2 Gent.

So honest, you mean.

1 Gent.

There is more folly in't than honesty, in my opinion.

2 Gent.

Thou art an Infidel, nay a very Athiest.

1 Gent.

I am a Naturalist. But who are they that are maried?

2 Gent.

Why Sir William Holdfast and the Lady Mute.

1 Gent.

The truth is, he is a worthy Person, and she is a virtuous and sweet Lady: wherefore they deserve each other; besides, she is an Heir, and he hath a great Estate.

2 Gent.

He hath so.

1 Gent.

What, is the Wedding kept private?

2 Gent.

Yes, there are only two or three Friends; but I must goe dine with them, therefore fare thee well, unless you will go with me: for you know you shall be welcome.

1 Gent.

I know I shall, therefore I shall go with you.

Exeunt.

Scene 48.

Enter the Prince and Princess, and all the Ladies and Gallants, as Knights and Gentlemen: They dance upon the Stage, and then go out.

FINIS.

EPILOGUE

OUr Auth'ress here hath sent me for her pay, She's at the Charge of Wit to make the Play; But if you think it not worthy of Praise, Nor an Applause of Hands, her Fame to raise, She doth desire that it in pawn may lie, Till redeem'd by a better Comedie.