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

Scene 3.

Enter MIstriss Odd-Humour, and her Maid Nan.

Mistriss Odd-Humour.

Nan, give me my work, and my little armed Chair.

The Maid goeth out, and strait enters with a little low wicker armed Chair; she sits in it, but is for∣ced to crowd her self into it, the Chair being too little for her seat.

Nan.

Lord Mistriss, you take great pains to crowd into that Chair, I wonder you can take delight to sit so uneasily.

Mistriss Odd-Humour.

O, custome is a second Nature; for I using to sit in this Chair from my Childhood, I have a Natural Love to it, as to an old acquaintance; and being accustomed to sit in it, it feels ea∣sier

She works, the whilst she sits and speaks.

than any other seat, for use and custome makes all things easy, when that we are unaccustomed to, is difficult and trou∣blesome; but I take so much delight to sit and work, or Sing old Ballads in this Chair, as I would not part from it for any thing.

Nan.

Yes, you would part with your little old Chair for a proper young Husband, who would set you on his knees.

Mistriss Odd-Humour.

By my faith but I would not, for I should find more trouble and less case on a young Husbands knees, than on my old Chairs Seat.

Nan.

But if you should sit in this Chair when you were marryed, your Husband must kneel down if he would kiss you.

Mistriss Odd-Humour.

Why then this Chair will learn a Husband hum∣ble submission and obedience, which Husbands never knew; but Nan, prethee fetch me some of my old Ballads to sing, for I am weary of working.

One calls Nan in another room.

Nan.

Mistriss, your Mother calls you.

She strives to get out of the little Chair, hitching first on one side, and then on the other side, wringing her self by degrees out, the whilst speaks.

Mistriss Odd-Humour.

I had as lieve be whipt as stir.

Nan.

You have reason, you labour so much, and ring your self so hard, as whipping would be less pain; for your Chair is now sitter for your Head, than your Britch.

Mistriss Odd-Humour.

Not unless to break my head; for a Chair is not a fit rest for the head, for then the heels would be upwards, and so I might be thought a Light-heeld wench; for light things fly, or ly upwards.

Nan.

Why the head, that is the uppermost part of the body, is not light.

Mistriss Odd-Humour.

Yes, when 'tis mad or drunk.

Exeunt.