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

SCENE II.

Enter Know-wel and Mrs. Crisis talking.

Know.

—For you, Lady, are the only she of whom I ever yet could seriously in this nature think of; And if I shal e're find in you an affection answerable to my desires, they then will rest, as having attain∣ed the chiefest good I e're could hope for from your Sex.

Cris.

Am I the only she (say you) that you ever could think of? That very thing me thinks) doth make me suspect whatsoever else you have said.

Know.

'Tis true (Lady) I needs must say, that I have seen ma∣••y a one in whose enjoyment, perhaps, I could have had no meane

content; we might have lived together with all the usual love, she might have made me a Father, and I have thought so; and if I should have lost her, I should have thought my self bereaved of one of those things that serve to pass away a troublesome life, as good company, or Sack.

But one, in admiring of whom I could be content to spend my time, one whom, rather then to misse, I should run all imaginable hazards, I never yet saw, till you.

Cris.

Come, fye, fye, Mr. Know-wel. Truly, I did not expect this from you.

Should one of those youths indeed, who then think they shew most of Accomplishment, when they expresse most Service unto us; not surely that they have that real value they pretend; but because (as sometimes great Doctors, upon trifling silly questions, wil shew their Learning) they judg us to be convenient properties to try their Wit and Courtship on: Should such a one (I say) have said so much, I should have esteemed it accordingly.

But what your most sober judgment can find out in me, a thing so trifling and inconsiderable to occasion these kind of words, I do not a little wonder.

Know.

Lady, do not wrong your self with these meane thoughts, for certainly there is not that person in the world that I do value like you. I will not so far trespasse on your modesty to tell you why; yet I have not been esteemed to act things irrational.

Cris.

Value me, Sir! for what?

Me thinks, were I but subject to those general imputations, to which our Sex is liable, it were enough to extinguish such a thought.

You see, Sir, I am a woman, one of the most undervalued Creatures living; we never yet by any polity were allowed to meddle with any thing but a needle: We are not esteemed to know ought of rational but our wills; nay, some will not allow us for to know our wills. And should I but consider my self by what some Satyrick Wits say of us▪ I could not but believe my self one of the most despicable things in Na∣ture.

Know.

You have indeed no little cause for to quarrel with the ge∣neral custome that doth put such a difference betwixt you and us. For have we not all the same rational souls, the same affects and qua∣lities? Nay, I need must say, I have not seen more acute differen∣cing and discerning spirits, then I have in some women; nor do I see any reason, but if they should improve and blow those natural sparks they are endued with, by the same means that we do use (neglecting those poor mechanick things to which the absurd humour of the world doth usually addict them) but that they would make a greater blaze then the most eminent of men. And such accomplishments meeting with the usual beauty and sweetnesse of their Sex, must needs extremely cap∣tivate and ravish, nor would any thing come so nigh Divinity.

Cris.

Well Sir, Although it were granted that there might be some∣what possible in woman sitting to be valued, what were that to me? I should no more dare to believe my self owner of any such thing, then that I did possesse the Indies.

Know.

No!

Could I but upon as good an account believe you ever to be mine, I should believe my self to possesse more then them.

Come (dear Lady) will you give me but the least of hopes to enjoy what e're perfection it be that you are owner of? Shall I think ever to call it mine?

Cris.

Truly (Sir) I think not, for.—

Know.

Hold Lady, let me have a little more warning before you in∣tend to give me a stroak so mortal; do not in one instant make me a thing irrational, of no design. For since my hopes have once made you their end, there can nothing surely ever appear to me, so worthy as to fix a thought upon.

Cris.

Sir, you did a little mistake me, for (as I think) I never did yet any thing that might encourage you to speak in this nature. So truly, thereby I needs must say, I did not intend to destroy what∣soever hopes you have conceived of me; for that which I was a going to say, (had you but given me leave) was only this:

Suppose me Mistris of all the Wit and Parts that ever yet was incident to our Sex,

And (now I am supposing of such impossible things) suppose me (as you just now said) yours; what were that to you more then to all the world? for you could as well hope to appropriate the Air as such Ac∣complishments. The Sun it self doth not afford more general and communicative influence then they would do.

Nay, perhaps as we now are, you might more enjoy such qualities; for what would wit in a wife serve for, but to interfere with yours. Nor have they been esteemed unwise, whom I have heard say, they could well spare all Judgment in one of that relation, save what were requisite to a handsome dresse, or so.—

Know.

I am so far, Lady, from thinking so, that were that realwhich you now supposed, the greatest Epicure could not more enjoy what e're his sensual appetite doth prompt him to, then I should those perfecti∣ons of your mind; for then we should not only be linked in that my∣stical knot, nor with those more natural tyes and charmes, as you are woman or fair; but certainly we should close in that stricter conjun∣cture of friend and friend, the greatest cement possible 'twixt humane souls.

And where it joines us with the more refin'd minds, it is a happinesse that the super-errogating Saint in his boldest error could never hope to merit. For to have one who as my better Genius, might regulate even in their first matter my imparted thoughts. What can be a greater bliss?

Or if I had any thing of worth or value in me, to have such a con∣scient judge and witnesse, would almost imitate the pleasure that some in the thought of an all-knowing Deity, can in any mis-construed action solace themselves against the opinion of the world.

'Tis true, I know some kind of Madam, who perhaps, having some not unhappy vaine which a little too much taking with the world, might drive her into strange conceits of what shee scarce can tell, and make her prove as troublesome and crosse, as sometimes are the winds, and have as various and fantastick waies: but wee should no more thwart or differ from each other, then truth would doe from truth, the waies of judgment and discretion being as certaine and demonstrative: wee should anticipate each others thoughts, our a∣ctions would be as harmonious as are those of Ants or Bees, as if by some secret law of nature we were designed to carry on some com∣mon worke: what say you, Lady, should we not? shall I ever enjoy in you this happinesse?

Cris.

If not Sir. Your Fancy that hath thus largely supplyed all my defects, will easily make good to you a greater losse.

Know.

Nay, Prethee be as serious as is the love I bear thee; and tell me freely and plainly what result that which you have observ'd of me hath wrought upon your thoughts; for this is the onely thing by which I must either stand or fall: for should I by intreaties seeke to force your will, 'twould be but vaine, since if you cannot afford, to answer my affection, they must needs make you loath, if not contemn and scorn me.

Cris.

Shall I answer you then, and will you not be sorry?

Know.

Hold, for me thinks I stand with the same paine, that the pri∣sones doth, that is to receive sentence either of life or death; faine would I be out of doubt, but loth I am to undergoe the trial; but speak, for certainly you have no condemning look.

Cris.

Well then Sir; to be short, if I should say you are a man, like whom, I never yet saw any; such a one, whom when in my prayers I have thought of man, I have wish'd for, and desired; it is a truth Sir, which perhaps, by the exact rule of wooing you should not yet have known; and now you know it, you may be sorry that you so easily know it; but I cannot help it.

Know.

What could I more desire!

Cris.

Sir, but I believe it is pretty late, wherefore, if you please, let us go to the Coach again.

Exeunt.