The hectors, or, The false challenge a comedy written in the year MDCLV, the scene, London.

THE HECTORS: OR THE FALSE CHALLENGE. (Book 1)

ACT I. (Book 1)

SCENE I.

Enter Mrs. Pate and Mrs. Lovewit.

Pate.

HE is indeed a pretty Gentleman.

Lovewit.

How well his dancing did become him!

Pate.

He had a very handsome and unaffected way.

Love.

His Discourse too (me thinks) I did extremely fancy, it was not too much starched with Formality, nor yet rudely loose.

Pate.

He was though in my mind somewhat too full of his Comple∣ments.

Love.

Yet they were still so fitted to, and grounded on what was said, that he cannot but have a sudden and quick wit.

Pat.

He carried indeed the whole Entertainment through with an exceeding grace.

Love.

Some would have spent five times as much, yet forced our good natures in the end to have laughed at it. Prethee what is he?

Pat.

Why do you not know, child of ignorance?

Love.

You know I came to th' Town but yesterday.

Pat.

O it is true: And I pray you how do a •• our friends in Sur∣rey? My Cozen Norris? and Mrs. Nonesuch.

Love.

They all desire to be remembred; but—

Pat.

How did my Cozen like the Stuff I bought her for her Gown?

Love.

Very well. But prethee—

Pat.

I did the best I could to please her fancy.

Lov.

But what was that we were a talking of? O, of the Gentleman; what is he?

Pat.

Why he i•• one that lives here about the Town▪ of a fair Estate, his name is Welbred, he has now for some while been a servant of your Cozens.

Lov.

Me thought he applyed himself much to her. Do••t think she ere will love him?

Pat.

Love him? How can she otherwise chuse? Th••re is not a La•••• twix•• Lud-gate-hill and Westminster but is ready to run mad for him; at the first ••ight he smites and ki••s, where e're he comes, there's none that can withstand him.

Lov.

But yet me thinks— But ••rethee let us talk no more of him.

Enter Mrs. Crisis and Mrs. Bud.

Pat.

Stay, here is your Cozen: Prethee what Girle is that wi••h her?

Lov.

It is a friends Daughter of mine in the Country, that goeth to School here in London; she came up with me.

Crisi••.

Affection! Where hast thou been? I have been looking for thee all over the house.

Lov.

I your Affection, and you keep things so close from mee!

Cris.

What things▪ I pray?

Lov.

You need not make so strange, for I know all: there is a Lad, they say, that smites and kils where e're he comes, and you are she in whom he intends to finish all his Conquests.

Cris.

Smite! and kil! Where e're he comes! Why, I hope, it is ••ot the old bald fellow with the Sithe on his neck, old Monsieur Time? Smite, and kill! Strange, terrible words! What meanest thou?

Lov.

I mean, he makes them talk or dream of him for a week, or so, or perhaps sigh or whine a little.

Cris.

Hold there, as for talking or dreaming I am for you, but do you think I e're shall sigh for him? I know whom you mean.

Lov.

Why not?

Cris.

Not I, as I live.

Lov.

Spoke she but true!

Aside.

Cris.

And yet the man deserveth well, as men now are. He is (I must confesse) a handsom sprightful youth, well qualified in most things that become a Gentleman: and since it is my friends desire that I should marry, he is one (I think) I should not be ashamed in company to own for a Husband.

Lov.

O my unhappy fortune!

Aside.

Cris.

The man I don't dislike, 'tis possible I might stay for a worse; and as possible, if I did stay, I might have a better, for I see nothing in him in which I could place my happiness.

Lov.

No▪ Bu•• how come we to talk of this Gentleman again?

Pat.

Believe me, thou lovest him with a pretty indifferent love.

Lov.

Her Love was certainly articled and agreed on by the old man her father. But let us find somewhat else to entertain the time withal. And now I think of it, what was that Gentlewoman who was there last night in the Sky coloured Satten Gown?

Pat.

O she is one of the great wits of the Town.

Love.

I thought so, yet Mr. Welbred put her shrewdly to it.

Pat.

Her mind runs on nothing but Welbred, I think.

Cris.

They say that thou too (Affection) goest for a kind of Coun∣try wit, what e're thou ailest to be thus sober here.

Love.

Sitting up so late last night hath somewhat disordered me, I confesse.

Cris.

But as thou hopest to be married under thirty, think not of it.

Lov.

Why, I pray? for that is somewhat a terrible Conjuration.

Cris.

Why? A female wit is a strange prodigious kind of thing, it frights off all that have no wit, and they that have will never come on, except it be for an Afternoon or so, to exercise their tongues. I have been out of conceit with it ever since I heard a Gentleman say, that he was going to a Lady that I know, a reputed wit, to prepare him for a Visit to his Mistris. Fye upon it, a thing fit for nothing, but to make one a common courting stock. I hate the very thought of it.

Love.

Well then, if we must not think on them that have wit, let us think on them that have none: and first, how did you like the Gentleman that was there last night with the black curled hair:

Pat.

With the black curled hair?

Cris.

O, I know whom she means, it was a friend of that same Gen∣tlewomans, she was here with him this morning to invite me to such another businesse to night. But why, I pray, dost thou take him to have no wit? Doth he pay all the Reckonings where e're he comes? Will he drink deep with a Lad that will keep a brace of Geldings and a Lac∣quey out of twenty pound a year? A dammee Captain, or an Oxford Majo••, and then game with them?

Love.

No, I dare pass my word for him.

Cris.

Why, these are the only modern fools.

Lov.

Well, I cannot tell what you call a fool, (I must confesse) I am a little too young to be his Godmother, but yet me thinks, a dull and stupid thing (as I conceive him to be) should have a name.

Pate.

I am sure if he had had any thing in him, there was a Lady gave him a fair opportunity to shew it.

Lov.

Mr. Welbred would have paid her home.

Pat.

I was a great while in doubt whether he could speak or no.

Cris.

Well, I cannot tell,—for ought I know, he might serve with a good Jointure to boot; for my part, I saw him do nothing much ab∣surd. And had you been here to day, you would have thought his si∣lence last night, to have been more out of choice then any thing else.

Bud.

Really Cozen, there was a rare Gentleman in the slash'd dou∣blet, and a button'd Cap, me thought he talk'd incomparably.

Love.

Whom doth she mean?

Pat.

Mr. Lagul certainly

Cris.

Alas poor soul!

Pat.

Well, I must be going.

Cris.

Nay, prethee stay a little longer.

Pat.

No, I have appointed to meet one,

Cris.

Who •• Mr. Hadland, I'll warrant you.

Pat.

'Tis no matter for that.

Cris.

Well, I hope when you come to lye at this end of the Town a∣gain, we shall more enjoy your company.

Exit Pate.

Love.

O Mrs. Pate.

Exeunt Lovewit and Bud after Pate.

Cris.

alone.

My Cozen too is certainly in love with him, for I have ob∣served her mind all this day strangely musing, although sometimes it be disguised with some forced flashes of mirth: what e're is talked of, her thoughts still run on him, and then she will recal her self, not think∣ing that affected hiding shewes what else would ne're be mark'd.— 'Tis strange to see how generally this Gentleman doth take: For my part, as I see not any thing in him that I much mislike, so truly naught that I admire: He has (I must confesse) some graceful and becom∣ing parts and qualities, a handsome way in talk; yet when I mark it seriously, me thinks it is as curious Pictures, which (although they make a pleasing shew, yet) for the most part are drawn on course and ordinary matter. I needs must say, he has this happinesse, that if he excel in ought, it is in things of that familiar nature, that each place and company he comes in, afford him opportunity to shew it. And this certainly is the only thing that makes him make a greater blaze then some of far more worth, whose eminence lying in that which is more choice, cannot so frequently discover it self, nor is their value prostituted unto every eye; but they, as great Bels, who are not easily nor on all slight occasions raised, yet being up, will far out sound any of these tinckling ting-tang blades.—Would heaven alot me but such a one to spend my time withal, it would be what I most desire; but yet I think I shall scarce run that odious fortune of a stale Maid in expecta∣tion of such a blessing.

Enter Maid.

Maid.

Mr. Welbred is come (forsooth) and desires to speak to you.

Cris.

Carry him into the Dining Room, and tell him I will wait up∣on him presently.

Exit Maid.

Stay, He will now set hard upon me, what shall I do? Yeeld? No, me thinks my fancy at this time doth not prompt me to it; I wil once more put him off, if handsomely I can.

Exit.

SCENE II.

Enter Lovewit.

Love.

He will not out of my mind, but doth over rule my thoughts and force them to desires vaine and impossible: I impossible, for h•• must needs fix on her, she is a Lady so without exception, of so fair a Fortune and such exquisite parts improved unto the height. He cer∣tainly then is hers; me thinks the very thought of that should be e∣nough to master these desires; for usually Objects, though ne're so pleasing, if not probable, searce stir the mind; for since we all are rational, it were absurd our wills should act in vain. But on the con∣trary, when things with ease may be attained, we never give over until we are arrived at the utmost of our wishes. Thus nothing is more ordinary then for my Lady to love her Gentleman, or Mrs. Anne her fathers man. But if a Country Clowne coming up hither, and seeking for his Lawyer in Grayes Inne, should step into the Walks, and there should chance to spye some Master-piece of Nature, some fam'd Beau∣ty, that for a time hath born the name, he would stand amazed, per∣haps wish that his Ione were such, but farther would not be stirred, impossibility would stop more bold desires, and quench those sparks that else would turne to fires. But I without the remedy of hope, even in despair, begin a love that promiseth nought but grief and endlesse teares. But here he comes with my Cozen, I will stand and hear what they say.

Enter Welbred and Crisis.

Wel.

Come sweet Lady be no longer cruel, 'tis fit for vulgar com∣mon beauties to inhance the price of their Enjoyment by a long de∣nyal; such Art were vain in you, and desperate in me, since I al∣ready am wound up unto the highest, and higher cannot go but break.

Cris.

Must I answer to all this presently? that me thinks would bee the greatest inequality in the world; in all reason certainly I should have as much time as you had to study it.

Wel.

Study it? He that is inspired doth not so little deliberate; I speak my very thoughts, on you my mind doth naturally run, nor can it va∣ry, for Nature that hath in you raised Beauty to its highest pitch, out∣done her own Idea's, hath thereby made you Commandresse of my soul, and all its passions and affects to wait on none but you; there∣fore seeing you have the power, O do no longer tyrranize.

Cris.

Why, what now would you have me say?

Wel.

What would I have you say? Can that be a question? Could your breath create me owner of the world, could I have diversity of woulds? Alas my thoughts are long since fixed on you, and my desires forgot all other Objects but your self.

Cris.

My self? then that is it you would have.

Well.

O God,—Would have? I, above—

Lov.

I am lost, undone, undone:

Within.

Cris.

Nay, pray now let me go, for you have me not yet, I must first chide you a little for this kind of language. What things do you think us women to be? Or rather, what would you have us our selves to fancy? For could I, me thinks, bu•• look into the brest of some fond silly Gi••le, and see what thoughts she entertaines, by that time such a blade as you hath told her some such stories, that she gives Beauty being, and other faces to be accounted of as they partake of hers; that she can smite, wound, kill, ••as if the fate of all mankind did hang upon her will, and twenty such things more, which if the poor thing have but wit enough to u••derstand, she is (without mercy) ru∣in'd, lost, undone.

Well.

Why I pray, Lady? for this is somewhat strange.

Cris.

I'll warrant you I have a reason for what I say; for fi••st, she thinks her self somewhat (though what she cannot tell) that hath a just quarrel to Fate, that she can have nought but so poor a thing as man her mate; she fancies not this mean, she fancies not ano∣thers Discourse, she hates this mans breeding, she hates anothers face, and for that coloured hair she refuseth a thousand pounds a year. Thus she continues for some years, until at the last, about some twenty nine, she doth begin to understand herself. But now the tide of Sutors and her beauty being eb'd, she stands a Fare for the next that comes; and in all haste she makes some desperate match, proves some old mans Nurse; perchance not so well, but Will her fathers man, her Taylor, or some Reformado Captain must serve her turne; or else (if she have any spirit) in a melancholy pet, she vowes a Virgin life, and for his sake that first deceived her, turnes man-hater. Come, come, in faith Sir you are to blame, were I now some kind of Lasse, forty to one but that I were meerely cozened of a good Hus∣band.

Wel.

Did one ever see such a plaguy Wench as this?—

Aside.

Not at all, Madam, are we to be blamed for what we are forced unto, such high flowne speeches are no more then what all will challenge, Epithites not of the fair, but woman, meer Titles due by custome and long use, nor can they be denyed without breach of Civility: Al∣though I must confesse sometimes, I give them with as much regret as when I call some base poor spirited thing Right Honourable.

Cris.

Truly, Sir, in my mind, a very ingenuous confession.

Wel.

She were as fond that would believe them, as if she should give credit to her Mercer; meet words of course, a tone the tongue must run in for fashions sake.

Cris.

Say you so? I have then so little hope to make you see your fault, that I will spend no more time about it. Your servant Sir, I must be going a little way.

She ••ffers to go out, he pulls her back.

Well.

Nay deare Lady, I had as good part from my better An∣gel.

Cris.

What? these are your words of course? Pray let me go.

Wel.

Nay, but in earnest Lady, you are the only party of all the world, in whose enjoyment I could think all happinesse con∣fin'd.

Cris.

She were as fond that would belive.—

Wel.

Slid, what shall I do now?— Believe, do you say Lady? O could you but look into my thoughts: the tortured wretch speaks not a truth more credible; the latest breath of dying men is not so sincere as what I say.— Believe me? it would question your Discretion (Madam) to do otherwise; it cannot but be so in nature; it is as impossible for you not to cause these passions in me, as for fire not to burn a matter combustible.

Cris.

Language due by custom and long use.—

Wel.

••Sfoot, what shall I do? she will outwit me this way, I must try another.—

Aside.

Well Mrs. Crisis, come, the truth of it is, I love thee; thou art handsom enough in conscience; & hast a little too much wit for a wife; but I don't doubt but I should rule it wel enough: wherefore prethee keep no more fooling, but let the Parson be doing.

Cris.

Well Sir, I will be as plain as you, it is possible you may love me, although the language you have chosen to expresse your love in, hath not (in my mind) a little prejudiced it. For my part, I do hate none living, nor will I forswear to marry you; but I must needs say, I am not yet quite resolved on it, in things of such consequence I cannot too much consider. Pray let this for this time suffice.

Wel.

Well then, if it must, I will leave you to consider until annon. You will go, to Hide Park as you promised?

Cris.

I shall be ready to wait upon you.

Wel.

In the mean time, let this make you think of me.

Gives her a Ring.

Cris.

Nay, Mr. Welbred.

Wel.

'Tis but a trifle.

Exeunt.

Enter Lovewit.

Love.

As when a close besieged Town, opening a secret Sally Port to receive some scouting Spies, in rushes the pursuing enemy, and they with their Intelligence receive their ruine: So I, through my too in∣quisitive ear have let in that which cuts me to the heart. O Welbred! did I but know thee to be made miserable? Or should I have been more wretched in not knowing thee? It is impossible she should with∣stand a fresh assault; this Journey to Hide Park will end the business, and begin my wo.— But shall I like some neglected wretch, left on an unknown shore, only look and stare after my happinesse, that with full gale is flying from me? Can there be nothing done, but to pre∣vent this present threatning mischief? O what? What shall I do?

Stay,—that would go nigh to do it, if not, it will however be a hand∣som way to discover my affection, which custom hath made (in me) im∣modesty to do.—it wil be an odd kind of thing though; It is no matter, even nature bids us shun a present danger, though we future hazards run.

Exit.

SCENE III.

Enter Lagul and Mrs▪ Bud, Mrs. Crisis standing at the other door, beckens to Lovewit, to the end that she should come and hear what thty say.

Lag.

What (Madam) is it a Massacre resolv'd, is killing one by one grown tedious sport?

Aglaura Scen. 3. Act. 1.

Cris.

Did ever poor Sir Iohn think thus to be abused?

Bud.

Really Sir, it pleaseth you to speak far beyond my deserts.

Lag.

O God, Madam, your Deserts are far transcending whatsoever I can say, Divinity inhabits in your face, and your cheeks contain the Elixar of all perfection.

Bud.

I am confident Sir, it pleaseth you to say so.

Lag.

Madam, I should esteem my self incomparably felicitous, if you would vouchsafe to honour me this Afternoon with your com∣pany to Hide Park, and grace my Coach with your transcendent beauty.

Bud.

Really my company will be no honour, but rather disgrace you.

Lag.

I presume not so (Madam)— for your Beauty doth anihila∣tize all others.

Cris.

Heark, Anihilatize, me thinks it is a pretty word.

Love.

It is a great deal of pity it should signifie nothing.

Lag.

For by this fair hand, Madam—

Love.

He is almost spent, I know by his beginning to toy with her,— I will go and relieve him.

She goeth to him with Crisis.

Monsieur Lagul, your servant; What? making new Conquests? Have you no pity on our Sex? If you go on thus, we shall look on you as on some common threatning mischief that will destroy us all.

Lag.

It is my eternal felicity Madam,—But I presume.—

Love.

You do indeed, to forget your old friends; What was the matter, I pray, we did not see you in the Country according to your promise?

Lag.

Really, Madam, I did ruminate in my thoughts to kiss your hands, but fortune was not so propitious to me as to favour me with that felicity.—

Cris.

It favoured her I am sure.

Aside.

Lov.

Why what was the matter?

Lag.

I must confess (Madam) there hath an accident or two fal∣len out of late, that hath taken me up, and made me extremely unci∣vil in this nature unto all my friends; I shall certainly be weary of these Duels in the end, if it be but for this cause.

Cris.

So, now he is in.

Aside.

Lov.

Then I see men sometimes feel your wounds as well as we. But I pray beware left in the end we may all rue some unlucky thrust.

Lag.

These Duels (Madam) I must confesse, are businesses of dan∣ger enough; but that is a thing which he that values his honour and reputation, must not entertain a thought of.— But yet at the first, I must needs say, they seemed somewhat strange; but now me thinks they are nothing, I look upon them as a meer Exercise; I cannot scarce eat a Dinner with a good appetite until I have fought one: They clearly save me forty shillings a Month unto my Fencing Ma∣ster.

Lov.

Were I but now disposed to be merry.

Aside.

Cris.

But I pray let me perswade you out of them.

Lag.

'Tis impossible (Madam); for he that stands upon his pun∣ctillio's, must needs run into them every day. I have fought two this we••k already, tomorrow I am to fight a third, and I look for a Chal∣lenge to another every minute.

Lov.

Why, for Gods sake Sir?

Lag.

I was yesterday (Madam) in the Afternoon at the Divel Ta∣vern, there hapned to be some words exchanged between a Gentle∣man and my self;— as I remember, he called me, Empty prating Cox∣comb: Upon that (Madam) by the rule of Honour I could do no lesse then give him the Lye; I expected then that he would have singled me out, and have wispered somewhat in my ear, but the ignorant fellow nothing but flung a quart pot at my head, and kicked me down the stairs.

Cris.

Why, was not that enough?

Lag.

No (Madam) the affront doth yet lye clearly on his side, it was so resolved afterwards at the Golden-fleece.

Cris.

Me thinks that is somewhat strange.

La.

Not at all, Madam, for the Lye is the highest affront that can be given, and so is the French mode, for once FranÇois de Valois, the French King, upon an affront that Charles the Emperor put upon him, sent him a Challenge, in which he gave him the Lye; the Emperor refusing to answer him, the French ever since in Complement to their King have esteemed it the highest affront that can possibly be put upon a man.

Lov.

But how came you off in the other Duels you said you have fought?

Lag.

Very well, Madam: for the first it was a businesse of nothing;

for at the very first pas I disarmed my Adversary, and I not seeking af∣ter bloud, but the Vindication of my Honour, was content to receive reasonable satisfaction, the acknowledgment that he had done me wrong, and so forth.

Some body knocks.

Cris.

Who is that at the door?

Lag.

But the other was like to have proved transcendently more periculous: for (Madam) I stood upon my Guard thus.—

Drawes.

Cris.

Blesse us!

Lag.

This (Madam) is Prince Ruperts Guard,— He came feroci∣ously upon me with a Passado or two, which I putting off, run at him just thus, as my Lord Shandos killed Compton.—

Crisis squeeks

Enter Knowwel.

Know.

Villain! Draw upon a woman!

He takes away his sword.

Lov.

Hold Sir, he is but in jest.

Know.

In jest!

Lag.

He knowes it is against the Mode to make a quarrel among Ladies.

Know.

The Mode, you Coxcomb!—

Beats him, La-gul runs out, Know-wel followes, and presently returnes again, Bud goeth out after Lagul.

Know.

Well let him go, for he is an Asse I'm sure, and so he ever will be, therefore it were a folly for to trouble my self any more with him.

Lov.

He can fight I see, although he cannot talk.

Aside.

Cris.

Now, Sir, I am not altogether of your mind; though the Gentleman (I must confess) doth appear absurd enough, my Cozen and I though, are not altogether out of hopes in time to make him a lit∣tle more understand himself, somewhat I think we have done al∣ready.

Know.

It is impossible, Lady, except you should alter the Fabrick of his mind, unbend its appetite, or give it new desires; for as long as the divine soul creating breath, is clad with different disposing matter, and cast in several moulds, there will be Wise and Fooles.

Cris.

Sir, if he were a natural Fool, I should yeeld much to your opinion, but in my mind his chiefest unhappiness is, only to have set his mind on some odd fancies, which if we could perswade him out of, he would be (at the least) not ridiculous.

Know.

Lady, 'tis likely you may know him a great deal better then I, for, I must confesse, altho••gh he be one that I see almost every day in the streets, yet of all men living I have the least acquaintance with him: wherefore (Madam) if you please to make my knowledge to be so far indebted to you, as to let me a little more fully understand him, I shall take it as no mean favour.

Cris.

That Sir would be a very tedious task.

Lov.

A tedious task! Why, what have you to do, I wonder?

Know.

That question I think may not be unnecessarily put to a

Lady that is drest, and hath dined, as I suppose you have.

Cris.

Well Cozen, if you will help me, I will venture on it then. And to begin, Sir this Gentleman (as I have said) although he doth appear ridiculous enough, yet in my opinion not so much by nature as unlucky chance: for as when some common metals will serve for good substantial use, yet if you strive to force them to more curious shapes, they only such rude draughts will take as will render them more deformed: So this Gentleman (had his courser soul but had the luck to have acted in some downright way, to have managed some plod∣ding Trade) he might by long experience have understood himselfe within his Sphere; nay, have had wit enough to have got a good E∣state, and through the repute of that, have been look'd upon by the world as wise; but this by his fathers industry being left to his hand, the common course of the world, unhappily doth fling him upon things fit only for more refined minds; which although he cannot master, yet some odde grudges and imperfect stamps have transformed him from what he was, nor can he be what he would.

Lov.

So (Sir) that some laugh at him, some wonder, as one would at some monstrous thing; some, indigested vain attempt of Na∣ture.

Cris

And first Sir, his Fortunes enabling him to keep variety of company; he hears indeed all sorts of wit enough, but that being a thing too subtile for his soul, naught stayes with him, but some few words and phrases, which he rudely plucking from that natural chaine that linck'd them with appropriating circumstances, shew very strange∣ly.

Know.

Not much unlike (Lady) the relicks of those species, which (although in a methodick way, and by the discursive hints of thought are represented to the mind, yet) in a dream appear with casual conse∣quence, the fancie making absurd contradictions, whilst at one act it doth rethink things treasured up in different time and place.

Cris.

Right Sir; for with some conceited speech, he is your Ser∣vant; what e're you answer, on he goeth to what is next in h••s me∣mory.

Lov.

Me thinks he sometimes puts me in mind of the Discourse between Clarangeus and Al••idon, what e're Alcidon answered, Cla∣rangeus went still on with the story of his woodden window.

Cris.

But Sir, it is with Complements as with all things else, except they beget one another, they are quickly at an end.

Lov.

His tongue indeed like the Germane Clockwork at Bartholmew Fair, is wound up but for a season.

Cris.

You would take him for Fryer Bacons head, made only to speak some certain sentences.

Lov.

It may be so: for I must confesse, for the most part, he doth use strange, high, and conjuring words; nor do I think his face wants brass.

Cri••.

Conjuring! You shall have him Court his Mistris, as if she were a Lady in some inchanted Castle. to be won with certain strange Ceremonies and mystical speeches.

Lov.

When he i•• quite spent, he is wont to cry, O Lord.— tel you, You are mel••ncholy;— but that we have almost laughed him out of; for now with some fond protestation, he will say somewhat, which in effect shall be only a denyal of what you say.

Cris.

A little better then the Canterburry Fidler, that would still cry, You lye Sir.

Lov.

Then he will talk somewhat of Newes, or of the Weather, tell you it hath not rained of late; some common places of the cryed up Wits and Beauties of the Towne, with certain formula's of cen∣sure on them all, may a little prolong his Discourse.

Cris.

O•• if a Horse-Race chance to be, it serves in no small stead, (believe me) it will keep him in good talk for at the least a week.

Lov.

You know, Cozen, what a stir he uses to keep sometimes with Trigunnel and his Mare.

Cris.

But that which is his greatest labour, and which most per∣plexeth him to attain, as the only thing which in his judgment renders him right Gallant and most complete, is the punctilio Discourse, the Laws of Duel and the Sword.

Lov.

He thinks that if he could go handsomly through with a quar∣rel without receiving a baffle, according to these Laws, he hath done more, and hath got more honour and repute then e're Montross, the Sweden King or Scanderbag.

Know.

Doth Fury know a Rule? Anger a Law? Strange Tyranny is this, that thus doth passions aw! Great spirits know your wrongs, can you whose actions might deter∣mine what is Valour, whose looks might daunt a fashion, and outstare the Mode, whose names might make your deeds, though interferring ••ustome, regular? Can you (I say) be governed by the paltry by∣lawes of a Taverne? Shall Honour, that Spring of worthy minds, that just Reward of Courage, Pains or Art, be measured by the dictates of a Crue able to degenerate the word, make it a term for Cowards, or a talk to busie fooles; a thing, a well tempered mind e're long will scarce dare own. As I have known a man whose spotlesse life would seem to question Adams fall, yet would he startle at the name of Godly, Saint or Holy. But Lady, I doubt I have too much interrupted you.

Lov.

Not a whit, Sir.

Cris.

There is not a quarrel about the Town, but he labours to get the exact History of it; he will tell you its rise and growth, who gave the first affront, and where it last did lye; together with the judicious observations of the Sword men on it.

Lov.

Then he hath strange Romances too of his own Adventures;

there is no Scout, Gazet or Weekly Intelligence will furnish you with more improbabilities. Captain Iones was but a meer Asse to him.

Cris.

I, for yesterday me thought, he told a story that went beyond his wounding the man in the Air.

Know.

What was that, I pray Lady?

Cris.

Why Sir, he said, as he was coming from Hide Park, there was five Bailiffes beset his Coach, which he routed; but with what do you think?

Know.

With his sword; what else?

Cris.

No Sir, it was but a Ladies busk, that he said he had in his hand.

Lov.

A pretty Instrument, and much in fashion with him of late.

Cris.

He gives one (Hadland, I think they call him) fifty pounds a year to keep him company.

Lov.

That is, sometimes to countenance him, and keep him from a Baffle.

Know.

Hadland! Certainly I have heard of that same Gentleman.

Cris.

'Tis possible, Sir, for he is one of no lesse ••ame then worth, although his decayed fortunes sometimes force him on unhandsome shifts.

Lov.

Is not that he you said to day Mrs. P. hath been so much in love with?

Cris.

The very same; he is one of the chief of our modern Hectors.

Lov.

Hectors?

Cris.

This 'tis to be so long in the Country; Do you not know what I mean?

Lov.

Not I.

Cris.

Why I mean a certain Order, more famous then that of Mal∣ta, the Garter, Saint Esprit, or the Golden-fleece, a race of Adventurers, who, out of what strange humor I cannot tell, have usurped the name of that famous Trojane Prince.

Kn.

A Prince! a Pander, a fellow was kill'd in the quarrel of a whore.

Cr.

And afterwards, Sir (as I have heard) dragged at a Carts tail.

Lov.

Believe me, a very proper patron.

Cris.

But whether is your Cozen gone?

Know.

The little Gentlewoman, Lady, went out presently after Mr. La-gul.

Lov.

Poor silly Girle! She cannot though but put me in mind of my own folly, for (I must confesse) when I was of her years, I did not a little admire this same Gentleman; but a little time did teach me more wit.

Cris.

Yet still you did retain him though—

Lov.

Why such a one for some businesses, I will assure you, will not do amisse.

Cris.

I must confesse, for a walk or such a matter he may be as re∣quisite as the Satin-peticoat.

Lov.

And, believe me, I think a handsome young Gentleman, his hair neatly curled and powdered, sitting beside one in the boot of a Coach with his hat in one hand, may become the Coach as well, and be as necessary an appurtenance, as the rich Scarlet Livery, or the plu∣med Lacqueyes; and for treatments and such kind of things, you do not know the pleasure such a one may do.

Cris.

But Cozen, you are well enough served, for I have heard that he will talk a little mystically sometimes; what, do you think men are fools, spend their money for nothing?—

Know.

Well, Ladies, my knowledg is not a little engaged to you as to this Gentleman.

Cris.

Truly Sir not much, no more then it would have been to a day or twoes acquaintance with him.

Know.

But (Lady) I had almost forgot, how stand your resolutions for to night?

Cris.

If you please Sir, I shall be ready at eight a clock.

Know.

Lady, 'Tis a thing that company much improves.—Where∣fore if you please.—

Cris.

I, I, she shall come.

Lov.

Sir, 'Tis well you used that Argument, for I must confesse, all that I can do in company is but to adde to the number.

Know.

What must I say then? I have e'en pull'd an old house on my head.

Aside.

Your further acquaintance (Madam) may furnish me with better Ar∣guments; but, me thinks though, to help to increase a number is none of the worst things a fair Lady is good for. Well (Ladies) seeing you do intend to meet, I must go and take some order about things.— But stay, what shall I do with this same sword?

Lov.

Sir, if you please to leave it with me, I will see it restored.

Know.

I shall rely upon you(Lady) to do it.

Gives it her. Exit.

Cris.

How now Cuz? What thinkest thou? What, is he a fool?

Lov.

I must needs say, I was a little deceived in him. But stay, this Mr. Lagul is as fit a man as I could possibly have thought of, and my having his sword, will give me a good opportunity to crave this courtesie of him. I will go therefore and find him out as soon as I can.

Aside. Exit.

Cris.

alone.

Happy you nobler substances that purely do impart what ever images your minds do form, and ca•• transfer your thought re∣sembling species, without the abuse of this adulterating matter; mat∣ter that our souls doth dresse in such disguising garbs; Don't Educa∣tion, Custom and long use disfigure us enough? A few distant leagues making us to stare at one another as at some monstrous things: Will not the state fucus, and the holy Varnish serve, with all Arts antick Wardrobe, but that each soul must wear a natural mask, and such improving glosses and allaying dashes, take from the nice sitting of this

clayie Suit. Some whose flashy airy souls (if by judgment grasp'd) like air come to nothing, yet meeting with strange happy accidents, with a slye fallacy deceive even sober minds; each action drawes atten∣tion, and each word regard; Their talk, though vain and empty, some odd, I know not whats, doth so become and grace, that the de∣ceived fancy (as when one looks through some false mediums or abu∣sing Opticks) cannot but conceit strange shapes of Wit, which else would not appear. But this same Gentleman, (had not his better Fortune enforced my notice with a little acquaintance) I had o're passed him as one of the common things of the world, but now, me thinks, I do begin to see a glimmering worth, though muffled with dis∣advantages.

Exit.

The end of the first Act.