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

Scene 5.

Enter Madamoiselle Amor alone.

MAdamoiselle Amor.

The mind is the best Tutor, and ought to instruct the Senses how to choose; for the Senses are but as the working La∣bourers, to bring Lifes materials in; but O my Senses have betrayed my mind, in bringing through my Ears, and Eyes, Beauty, and VVit, which like as creeping Serpents, got passage to my heart, and winding round about with flattering imbraces, yet sting the peace, and quiet of my mind, raising therein blisters of discontent, causing an anguish of restless thoughts, which work, and beat like pulsive pa••n.

But O had I been born both Deaf and Blind, Then might I scape this Hell tormenting mind; His Wit like various Musick pierc'd my Ear, Some being solemn, and some pleasant were And when he spake, his person did appear Like to the Sun, when no dark Clouds were neer; Fame of his valour, like a trumpet sound, Through Ears from Heart, unto the Eyes rebound; And then his person, like Mars did appear, Yet so, as when fair Venus Queen was neer. O Love forbear, use not this cruelty, Either bind him, or give me liberty.

Enter Monsieur Adresser.

Monsieur Adresser.

VVhat are you all alone sweet Mistriss?

Amor.

No Sir, I have the Company of thoughts.

Adresser.

Those are Melancholy Companions.

Amor.

Indeed mine are so at this time; yet thoughts with thoughts may discourse wittily, and converse pleasantly together, without articulate words.

Adresser.

Certainly your thoughts must needs be pleasant, your words are so witty.

Amor.

No truly, for my thoughts lie in my brain like a Chaos in a con∣fused heap, and my brain being young, hath not enough natural heat to dis∣gest them into a Methodical order; neither hath Time cookt them ready for the Mind to dish out, or the Tongue to carry to the Ears of the hearers.

Adresser.

The oftner I hear, and see you, the more I wonder at you.

Amor.

Why, I hope Sir I am no Monster?

Adresser.

No, for you seem to me something divine.

Amor.

Then you should rather admire me: for Admiration proceeds from things excellent, Wonder from things strange and unusuall.

Adresser.

So you are strange, and unusal: for things divine are not com∣mon; and certainly you are a thing illuminated beyond Natures Art, and are the only delight of Mankind.

Amor.

Men take no worldly delight in Coelestial Creatures, but with Earthly; wherefore the most refined and illuminated, is oftenest rejected.

Adresser.

No Lady, they are not rejected, but as Angels, they will not reside with us.

Amor.

Sir, for fear I should lose the Angelical opinion you have of me, I will depart soon as Angels do.

Exeunt.