Scene 22.
Enter the Lord Melancholy, he walks about the Room with his Hat pull'd over his forehead, his Arms foulded, his Eyes bent towards the ground; then enters his Father to him, the Lord Dorato.
LOrd Dorato.
Why how now Son, shall I never find you with Company, but always alone, in a musing Melancholy posture?
Lord Melancholy.
I never did love much Company Sir.
Lord Dorato.
But methinks in honesty, you might love the Company of your Wife.
Lord Melancholy.
Were my liberty equal to my Love, I should not be o••ten from her.
Lord Dorato.
Why, who bars you from that liberty?
Lord Melancholy.
The Laws Sir.
Lord Dorato.
So, I perceive you are discontented, because you are barr'd from your Whore.
Lord Melancholy.
You are my Father, but should another man have said so much, I would make him prove it with his blood.
Lord Dorato.
Why, the Laws have proved it.
Lord Melancholy.
Oh Heavens, that Fathers should be so cruell! have not you made me unhappy, by forcing me to those actions that neither Conscience, Honesty, nor Honour can approve of; and yet will you disturb my Life, trouble my Thoughts, and torture me with words?
Lord Dorato.
No, no, I love you so well, as I would have you so happy, as to be delighted with mirth, and not to bury your self in Melancholy, and despise those blessings Heaven bestows upon you, as Wealth and Honour, besides the blessing of Posterity; for your Lady proves to be fruitfull, being big with Child.
Lord Melancholy.
I am so unhappy my self, I desire none but to please you.
Lord Dorato.
Come, come, pray let me perswade you to go to your wife the Princess, and sit and talk with her, for she is displeased she hath no more of your Company, she complains and sayes she seldome sees you.
Lord Melancholy.
Her humour and mine are so different, that we are happyest when we are fardest asunder.
Lord Dorato.
Let me tell you Son, that all women love to be flattered, and when they are not, they are peevish, cross, and froward, and therefore you must flatter her.
Lord Melancholy.
I must have a Tutor first to teach me Sir, for I under∣stand not the Art of flattery, I never practise it.
Lord Dorato.
Time and Company, Ambition and Covetousness, will teach you that; but the best Tutor is Cupid, and the best Tutoress is Venus, and you have been a lover Son.
Lord Melancholy.
Yes Sir, in Hymens Court, and there they use not much flattery.