Beaumont Francis Beaumont & Fletcher's Works (3 of 10): The Loyal Subject
Actus Tertius. Scena Prima
Enter Theodore, Putskey, Ancient and Servant
The. I wonder we hear no news.
Puts. Here's your fathers servant, He comes in haste too, now we shall know all, Sir.
The. How now?
Ser. I am glad I have met you, Sir; your father Intreats you presently make haste unto him.
The. What news?
Ser. None of the best, Sir, I am asham'd to tell it, Pray ask no more.
The. Did not I tell ye, Gentlemen? Did not I prophesie? he's undone then.
Ser. Not so, Sir, but as near it —
Puts. There's no help now; The Army's scatter'd all, through discontent, Not to be rallied up in haste to help this.
Anc. Plague of the Devil; have ye watch'd your seasons? We shall watch you ere long.
The. Farewel, there's no cure, We must endure all now: I know what I'll do. [Exeunt Theodore and Servant.
Puts. Nay, there's no striving, they have a hand upon us, A heavy and a hard one.
Anc. Now I have it, We have yet some Gentlemen, some Boys of mettle, (What, are we bob'd thus still, colted, and carted?) And one mad trick we'll have to shame these Vipers; Shall I bless 'em?
Puts. Farewel; I have thought my way too. [Exit.
Anc. Were never such rare Cries in Christendome, As Mosco shall afford: we'll live by fooling Now fighting's gone, and they shall find and feel it. [Exit.
SCENE II
Enter Archas, Honora, and Viola
Ar. No more, it must be so; do you think I would send ye, Your father and your friend —
Viol. Pray Sir, be good to us, Alas, we know no Court, nor seek that knowledge; We are content with harmless things at home, Children of your content, bred up in quiet, Only to know our selves, to seek a Wisedome From that we understand, easie and honest; To make our actions worthy of your Honour, Their ends as innocent as we begot 'em; What shall we look for Sir, what shall we learn there, That this more private sweetness cannot teach us? Vertue was never built upon ambition, Nor the Souls Beauties bred out of Bravery: What a terrible Father would you seem to us, Now you have moulded us, and wrought our tempers To easie and obedient ways, uncrooked, Where the fair mind can never lose nor loiter, Now to divert our Natures, now to stem us Roughly against the tide of all this treasure? Would ye have us proud? 'tis sooner bred than buried; Wickedly proud? for such things dwell at Court, Sir.
Hon. Would ye have your Children learn to forget their father, And when he dies dance on his Monument? Shall we seek Vertue in a Sattin Gown; Embroider'd Vertue? Faith in a well-curl'd Feather? And set our Credits to the tune of green sleeves? This may be done; and if you like, it shall be. You should have sent us thither when we were younger, Our maiden-heads at a higher rate; our Innocence Able to make a Mart indeed: we are now too old, Sir, Perhaps they'll think too cunning too, and slight us; Besides, we are altogether unprovided, Unfurnisht utterly of the rules should guide us: This Lord comes, licks his hand, and protests to me; Compares my Beauty to a thousand fine things; Mountains, and Fountains, Trees, and Stars, and Goblins; Now have not I the faith for to believe him; He offers me the honourable courtesie, To lye with me all night, what a misery is this? I am bred up so foolishly, alas, I dare not, And how madly these things will shew there.
Arc. I send ye not, Like parts infected, to draw more corruption; Like Spiders to grow great, with growing evil: With your own Vertues season'd, and my prayers, The Card of goodness in your minds, that shows ye When ye sail false; the needle toucht with honour, That through the blackest storms, still points at happiness; Your Bodies the tall barks, rib'd round with goodness, Your Heavenly Souls the Pilots, thus I send you; Thus I prepare your Voyage; sound before ye, And ever as you sail through this Worlds Vanity, Discover Sholes, Rocks, Quicksands, cry out to ye, Like a good Master tack about for Honour: The Court is Vertue's School, at least it should be; Nearer the Sun the Mine lies, the metal's purer: Be it granted, if the spring be once infected, Those Branches that flow from him must run muddy; Say you find some Sins there, and those no small ones, And they like lazie fits begin to shake ye: Say they affect your strengths, my happy Children, Great things through greatest hazards are atchiev'd still, And then they shine, then goodness has his glory, His Crown fast rivetted, then time moves under, Where, through the mist of errors, like the Sun, Through thick and pitchy Clouds, he breaks out nobly.
Hon. I thank you Sir, you have made me half a Souldier, I will to Court most willingly, most fondly. And if there be such stirring things amongst 'em, Such Travellers into Virginia As Fame reports, if they can win me, take me; I think I have a close Ward, and a sure one; An honest mind I hope, 'tis petticoat-proof, Chain-proof, and Jewel-proof; I know 'tis Gold-proof, A Coach and four Horses cannot draw me from it: As for your handsome Faces, and filed Tongues, Curl'd Millers heads, I have another word for them, And yet I'll flatter too, as fast as they do, And lye, but not as lewdly; Come, be valiant, Sister, She that dares not stand the push o'th' Court, dares nothing, And yet come off ungraced: Sir, like you, We both affect great dangers now, and the World shall see All glory lies not in Mans Victorie.
Arc. Mine own Honora.
Viol. I am very fearful, Would I were stronger built: you would have me honest?
Arc. Or not at all my Viola.
Viol. I'll think on't, For 'tis no easie promise, and live there: Do you think we shall do well?
Hon. Why, what should aile us?
Viol. Certain they'll tempt us strongly; beside the glory Which Women may affect, they are handsom Gentlemen, Every part speaks: nor is it one denial, Nor two, nor ten; from every look we give 'em, They'll frame a hope; even from our prayers, promises.
Hon. Let 'em feed so, and be fat; there is no fear, wench, I[f] thou beest fast to thy self.
Viol. I hope I shall be; And your example will work more.
Enter Theodore
Hon. Thou shalt not want it.
The. How do you, Sir? can you lend a man an Angel? I hear you let out money.
Arc. Very well, Sir, You are pleasantly dispos'd: I am glad to see it. Can you lend me your patience, and be rul'd by me?
The. Is't come to patience now?
Arc. Is't not a Vertue?
The. I know not: I ne'r found it so.
Arc. That's because Thy anger ever knows, and not thy judgment.
The. I know you have been rifl'd.
Arc. Nothing less, Boy; Lord, what opinions these vain People publish! Rifl'd of what?
The. Study your Vertue, Patience, It may get Mustard to your Meat. Why in such haste, Sir, Sent ye for me?
Arc. For this end only, Theodore, To wait upon your Sisters to the Court; I am commanded they live there.
The. To th' Court, Sir?
Arc. To th' Court I say.
The. And must I wait upon 'em?
Arc. Yes, 'tis most fit you should, you are their Brother.
The. Is this the business? I had thought your mind, Sir, Had been set forward on some noble action, Something had truly stir'd ye. To th' Court with these? Why, they are your Daughters, Sir.
Arc. All this I know, Sir.
The. The good old Woman on a Bed he threw: To th' Court?
Arc. Thou art mad.
The. Nor drunk as you are: Drunk with your duty, Sir: do you call it duty? A pox of duty, what can these do there? What should they do? Can ye look Babies, Sisters, In the young Gallants eyes, and twirl their Band-strings? Can ye ride out to air your selves? Pray Sir, Be serious with me, do you speak this truly?
Arc. Why, didst thou never hear of Women Yet at Court, Boy?
The. Yes, and good Women too, very good Women, Excellent honest Women: but are you sure, Sir, That these will prove so?
Hon. There's the danger, Brother.
The. God-a-mercy Wench, thou hast a grudging of it.
Arc. Now be you serious, Sir, and observe what I say, Do it, and do it handsomly; go with 'em.
The. With all my heart, Sir; I am in no fault now; If they be thought Whores for being in my Company; Pray write upon their Backs, they are my Sisters, And where I shall deliver 'em.
Arc. Ye are wondrous jocund, But prithee tell me, art thou so lewd a Fellow? I never knew thee fail a truth.
The. I am a Souldier, And spell you what that means.
Arc. A Souldier? What dost thou make of me?
The. Your Palate's down, Sir.
Arc. I thank ye, Sir.
The. Come, shall we to this matter? You will to Court?
Hon. If you will please to honour us.
The. I'll honour ye, I warrant; I'll set ye off With such a lustre, Wenches; alas poor Viola, Thou art a fool, thou criest for eating white bread: Be a good Huswife of thy tears, and save 'em, Thou wilt have time enough to shed 'em, Sister. Do you weep too? nay, then I'll fool no more. Come worthy Sisters, since it must be so, And since he thinks it fit to try your Vertues, Be you as strong to truth, as I to guard ye, And this old Gentleman shall have joy of ye. [Exeunt.
SCENE III
Enter Duke, and Burris
Du.Burris take you ten thousand of those Crowns, And those two Chains of Pearl they hold the richest, I give 'em ye.
Bur. I humbly thank your Grace; And may your great example work in me That noble Charity to men more worthy, And of more wants.
Du. You bear a good mind, Burris; Take twenty thousand now: be not so modest, It shall be so, I give 'em: go, there's my ring for't.
Bur. Heaven bless your Highness ever. [Exit.
Du. You are honest.
Enter Alinda, and Putskey at door
Put. They're coming now to Court, as fair as vertue: Two brighter Stars ne'er rose here.
Alin. Peace, I have it, And what my Art can do; the Duke —
Put. I am gone, Remember. [Exit.
Alin. I am counsell'd to the full, Sir. Duke. My pretty Mistris, whither lyes your business? How kindly I should take this, were it to me now?
Alin. I must confess immediately to your Grace, At this time.
Duke. You have no address, I do believe ye, I would ye had.
Alin. 'Twere too much boldness, Sir, Upon so little knowledge, less deserving.
Duke. You'll make a perfect Courtier.
Alin. A very poor one.
Duke. A very fair one, sweet; come hither to me. What killing eyes this Wench has! in his glory Not the bright Sun, when the Sirian Star reigns, Shines half so fiery.
Alin. Why does your Grace so view me? Nothing but common handsomness dwells here, Sir, Scarce that: your Grace is pleas'd to mock my meanness.
Duke. Thou shalt not go: I do not lie unto thee, In my eye thou appear'st —
Alin. Dim not the sight, Sir, I am too dull an object.
Duke. Canst thou love me? Canst thou love him will honour thee?
Alin. I can love, And love as you do too: but 'twill not shew well: Or if it do shew here where all light lustres, Tinsel affections make a glorious glistering, 'Twill halt i'th' handsom way.
Duke. Are ye so cunning? Dost think I love not truly?
Alin. No, ye cannot, You never travel'd that way yet: pray pardon me, I prate so boldly to you.
Duke. There's no harm done: But what's your reason, sweet?
Alin. I would tell your Grace, But happily —
Duke. It shall be pleasing to me.
Alin. I should love you again, and then you would hate me. With all my service I should follow ye, And through all dangers.
Duke. This would more provoke me, More make me see thy worths, More make me meet 'em.
Alin. You should do so, if ye did well and truly: But though ye be a Prince, and have power in ye, Power of example too, ye have fail'd and falter'd.
Duke. Give me example where?
Alin. You had a Mistris, Oh Heaven, so bright, so brave a dame, so lovely, In all her life so true!
Duke. A Mistris?
Alin. That serv'd you with that constancy, that care, That lov'd your will, and woo'd it too.
Duke. What Mistris?
Alin. That nurs'd your honour up, held fast your vertue, And when she kist encreas'd, not stole your goodness.
Duke. And I neglected her?
Alin. Lost her, forsook her, Wantonly flung her off.
Duke. What was her name?
Alin. Her name as lovely as her self, as noble, And in it all that's excellent.
Duke. What was it?
Alin. Her name was Beau-desert: Do you know her now, Sir?
Duke.Beau-desert? I do not remember —
Alin. I know you do not; Yet she has a plainer name; Lord Archas service; Do you yet remember her? there was a Mistris Fairer than Woman, far fonder to you, Sir, Than Mothers to their first-born joyes: Can you love? Dare you profess that truth to me a stranger, A thing of no regard, no name, no lustre, When your most noble love you have neglected, A beauty all the world would woo and honour? Would you have me credit this? think you can love me, And hold ye constant, when I have read this story? Is't possible you should ever favour me, To a slight pleasure prove a friend, and fast too, When, where you were most ty'd, most bound to benefit, Bound by the chains of honesty and honour, You have broke and boldly too? I am a weak one, Arm'd only with my fears: I beseech your Grace Tempt me no further.
Du. Who taught you this Lesson?
Alin. Woful experience, Sir: if you seek a fair one, Worthy your love, if yet you have that perfect, Two Daughters of his ruin'd vertue now Arrive at Court, excellent fair indeed, Sir, But this will be the Plague on't, they're excellent honest.
Enter Olympia and Petesca privately
Du. I love thy face.
Alin. Upon my life ye cannot: I do not love it my self, Sir, 'tis a lewd one, So truly ill Art cannot mend it; but if 'twere handsome, At least if I thought so, you should hear me talk, Sir, In a new strain; and though ye are a Prince, Make ye Petition to me too, and wait my answers; Yet o' my Conscience I should pity ye, After some ten years siege.
Du. Prethee do now.
Alin. What would ye do?
Du. Why I would lye with ye.
Alin. I do not think ye would.
Du. In troth I would Wench. Here, take this Jewel.
Alin. Out upon't, that's scurvy. Nay, if we do, sure we'll do for good fellowship, For pure love, or nothing: thus you shall be sure, Sir, You shall not pay too dear for't.
Du. Sure I cannot.
Alin. By'r Lady but ye may: when ye have found me able To do your work well, ye may pay my wages.
Pet. Why does your Grace start back?
Olym. I ha' seen that shakes me: Chills all my bloud: O where is faith or goodness? Alinda thou art false, false, false thou fair one, Wickedness false; and (wo is me) I see it. For ever false.
Pet. I am glad 't has taken thus right. [Exeunt.
Alin. I'le go ask my Lady, Sir.
Du. What?
Alin. Whether I shall lye with ye, or no: If I find her willing — For look ye Sir, I have sworn, while I am in her service — ('Twas a rash Oath I must confess.)
Du. Thou mockst me.
Alin. Why, would ye lye with me, if I were willing? Would you abuse my weakness?
Du. I would piece it, And make it stronger.
Alin. I humbly thank your highness, When you piece me, you must piece me to my Coffin: When you have got my Maiden-head, I take it, 'Tis not an inch of an Apes tail will restore it, I love ye, and I honour ye, but this way I'le neither love nor serve ye. Heaven change your mind, Sir. [Exit.
Duke. And thine too: For it must be chang'd, it shall be. [Exit.
SCENE IV
Enter Boroskie, Burris, Theodore, Viola and Honora
Bor. They are goodly Gentlewomen.
Bur. They are, Wondrous sweet Women both.
Theo. Does your Lordship like 'em? They are my Sisters, Sir; good lusty Lasses, They'll do their labour well, I warrant ye, You'll find no Bed-straw here, Sir.
Hon. Thank ye Brother.
The. This is not so strongly built: but she is good mettle, Of a good stirring strain too: she goes tith, Sir.
Enter two Gentlemen
Here they be, Gentlemen, must make ye merry, The toyes you wot of: do you like their complexions? They be no Moors: what think ye of this hand, Gentlemen? Here's a white Altar for your sacrifice: A thousand kisses here. Nay, keep off yet Gentlemen, Let's start first, and have fair play: what would ye give now To turn the Globe up, and find the rich Moluccas? To pass the straights? here (do ye itch) by StNicholas, Here's that will make ye scratch and claw, Claw my fine Gentlemen, move ye in divers sorts: Pray ye let me request ye, to forget To say your prayers, whilest these are Courtiers; Or if ye needs will think of Heaven, let it be no higher Than their eyes.
Bor. How will ye have 'em bestow'd, Sir?
Theo. Even how your Lordship please, So you do not bake 'em.
Bor. Bake 'em?
Theo. They are too high a meat that way, they run to gelly. But if you'll have 'em for your own diet, take my counsel, Stew 'em between two Feather-beds.
Bur. Please you Colonel To let 'em wait upon the Princess?
Theo. Yes, Sir, And thank your honour too: but then happily, These noble Gentlemen shall have no access to 'em, And to have 'em buy new Cloaths, study new faces, And keep a stinking stir with themselves for nothing, 'Twill not be well i'faith: they have kept their bodies, And been at charge for Bathes: do you see that shirt there? Weigh but the moral meaning, 'twill be grievous: Alas, I brought 'em to delight these Gentlemen, I weigh their wants by mine: I brought 'em wholesome, Wholesome, and young my Lord, and two such blessings They will not light upon again in ten years.
Bor. 'Tis fit they wait upon her.
Theo. They are fit for any thing: They'll wait upon a man, they are not bashful, Carry his Cloak, or unty his points, or any thing, Drink drunk, and take Tobacco; the familiar'st fools — This wench will leap over Stools too, and sound a Trumpet, Wrastle, and pitch the Bar; they are finely brought up.
Bor. Ladies, ye are bound to your Brother, And have much cause to thank him: I'le ease ye of this charge, and to the Princess, So please you, I'le attend 'em.
Theo. Thank your Lordship: If there be e're a private corner as ye go, Sir, A foolish lobbie out o'th' way, make danger, Try what they are, try —
Bor. Ye are a merry Gentleman.
The. I would fain be your honours kinsman.
Bor. Ye are too curst, Sir.
The. Farewel wenches, keep close your ports, y'are washt else.
Hon. Brother, bestow your fears where they are needful. [Exit Boros. Honor. Viol.
The. Honor thy name is, and I hope thy Nature. Go after, Gentlemen, go, get a snatch if you can, Yond' old Erra Pater will never please 'em. Alas I brought 'em for you, but see the luck on't, I swear I meant as honestly toward ye — Nay do not cry good Gentlemen: a little counsel Will do no harm: they'll walk abroad i'th' Evenings, Ye may surprize 'em easily, they wear no Pistols. Set down your minds in Metre, flowing Metre, And get some good old linnen Woman to deliver it, That has the trick on't: you cannot fail: Farewel Gentlemen. [Exeunt Gent.
Bur. You have frighted off these flesh-flies.
The. Flesh-flies indeed my Lord.
Enter a Servant
And it must be very stinking flesh they will not seize on.
Serv. Your Lordship bid me bring this Casket.
Bur. Yes, Good Colonel Commend me to your worthy Father, and as a pledge He ever holds my love, and service to him, Deliver him this poor, but hearty token, And where I may be his —
The. Ye are too noble; A wonder here my Lord, that dare be honest, When all men hold it vitious: I shall deliver it, And with it your most noble love. Your servant. [Ex. Bur. Were there but two more such at Court, 'twere Sainted, This will buy Brawn this Christmas yet, and Muscadine. [Ex.
SCENE V
Enter Ancient, crying Brooms, and after him severally, four Souldiers, crying other things. Boroskie and Gent, over the Stage observing them
I. SONG
Anc. Broom, Broom, the bonnie Broom, Come buy my Birchen Broom, I'th' Wars we have no more room, Buy all my bonnie Broom, For a kiss take two; If those will not do, For a little, little pleasure, Take all my whole treasure: If all these will not do't, Take the Broom-man to boot. Broom, Broom, the bonnie Broom.
II. SONG
1 Soul. The Wars are done and gone, And Souldiers now neglected, Pedlers are, Come Maidens, come alone, For I can show you handsome, handsome ware; Powders for, for the head, And drinks for your bed, To make ye blith and bonney. As well in the night we Souldiers can fight, And please a young wench as any.
2 Soul. I have fine Potato's, Ripe Potato's.
III. SONG
3 Soul. Will ye buy any Honesty, come away, I sell it openly by day, I bring no forced light, nor no Candle To cozen ye; come buy and handle: This will shew the great man good, The Tradesman where he swears and lyes, Each Lady of a noble bloud, The City dame to rule her eyes: Ye are rich men now: come buy, and then I'le make ye richer, honest men.
IV. SONG
4 Sol. Have ye any crackt maiden-heads, to new leach or mend? Have ye any old maiden-heads to sell or to change? Bring 'em to me with a little pretty gin, I'le clout 'em, I'le mend 'em, I'le knock in a pin, Shall make 'em as good maids agen, As ever they have been.
Bor. What means all this, why do y'sell Brooms Ancient? Is it in wantonness, or want?
An. The only reason is, To sweep your Lordships conscience: here's one for the nonce. Gape Sir, you have swallowed many a goodlier matter — The only casting for a crazie conscience.
3 Sol. Will your Lordship buy any honestie? 'twill be worth your mony.
B[o]r. How is this?
3 Sol. Honestie my Lord, 'tis here in a quill.
An. Take heed you open it not, for 'tis so subtle, The least puffe of wind will blow it out o'th' Kingdom.
2 Sol. Will your Lordship please to taste a fine Potato? 'Twill advance your wither'd state.
Anc. Fill your honour full of most noble itches, And make Jack dance in your Lordships breeches.
1 Sol. If your Daughters on their beds. Have bow'd, or crackt their maiden-heads; If in a Coach with two much tumbling, They chance to crie, fie, fo, what fumbling; If her foot slip, and down fall she, And break her leg 'bove the knee, The one and thirtieth of Februarie let this be ta'ne, And they shall be arrant maids again.
Bor. Ye are brave Souldiers; keep your wantonness, A winter will come on to shake this wilfulness. Disport your selves, and when you want your mony – [Exit.
Anc. Broom, Broom, &c. [Exeunt Singing.
SCENA VI
Enter Alinda, Honora, Viola
Al. You must not be so fearfull, little one, Nor Lady you so sad, you will ne're make Courtiers With these dull sullen thoughts; this place is pleasure, Preserv'd to that use, so inhabited; And those that live here, live delightfull, joyfull: These are the Gardens of Adonis, Ladies, Where all sweets to their free and noble uses, Grow ever young and courted.
Hon. Bless me Heaven, Can things of her years arrive at these rudiments? By your leave fair Gentlewoman, how long have you been here?
Al. Faith much about a week.
Hon. You have studied hard, And by my faith arriv'd at a great knowledge.
Viol. Were not you bashfull at first?
Al. I, I, for an hour or two: But when I saw people laugh'd at me for it, And thought it a dull breeding —
Hon. You are govern'd here then Much after the mens opinions.
Al. Ever Lady.
Hon. And what they think is honourable. —
Al. Most precisely We follow with all faith.
Hon. A goodly Catechisme.
Viol. But bashfull for an hour or two?
Al. Faith to say true, I do not think I was so long: for look ye, 'Tis to no end here, put on what shape ye will, And soure your self with ne're so much austeritie, You shall be courted in the same, and won too, 'Tis but some two hours more; and so much time lost, Which we hold pretious here: In so much time now As I have told you this, you may lose a Servant, Your age, nor all your Art can e're recover. Catch me occasion as she comes, hold fast there, Till what you do affect is ripn'd to ye. Has the Duke seen ye yet?
Hon. What if he have not?
Al. You do your beauties too much wrong, appearing So full of sweetness, newness; set so richly, As if a Counsel beyond nature fram'd ye.
Hon. If we were thus, say heaven had given these blessings, Must we turn these to sin-oblations?
Al. How foolishly this Countrey way shews in ye? How full of flegm? do you come here to pray, Ladies? You had best cry, stand away, let me alone Gentlemen, I'le tell my Father else.
Viol. This woman's naught sure, A very naughtie woman.
Hon. Come, say on friend, I'le be instructed by ye.
Al. You'l thank me for't.
Hon. Either I or the devil shall: The Duke you were speaking of.
Al. 'Tis well remembred: yes, let him first see you, Appear not openly till he has view'd ye.
Hon. He's a very noble Prince they say.
Al. O wondrous gracious; And as you may deliver your self at the first viewing. For look ye, you must bear your self; yet take heed It be so season'd with a sweet humilitie, And grac'd with such a bountie in your beautie —
Hon. But I hope he will offer me no ill?
Al. No, no: 'Tis like he will kiss ye, and play with ye.
Hon. Play with me, how?
Al. Why, good Lord, that you are such a fool now! No harm assure your self.
Viol. Will he play with me too?
Al. Look babies in your eyes, my prettie sweet one: There's a fine sport: do you know your lodgings yet?
Hon. I hear of none.
Al. I do then, they are handsom, Convenient for access.
Viol. Access?
Al. Yes little one, For visitation of those friends and Servants, Your beauties shall make choice of: friends and visits: Do not you know those uses? Alas poor novice; There's a close Cowch or two, handsomely placed too.
Viol. What are those I pray you?
Al. Who would be troubled with such raw things? they are to lie upon, And your love by ye; and discourse, and toy in.
Viol. Alas I have no love.
Al. You must by any means: You'l have a hundred, fear not.
Viol. Honestie keep me: What shall I doe with all those?
Al. You'l find uses: Ye are ignorant yet, let time work; you must learn too, To lie handsomly in your bed a mornings, neatly drest In a most curious Wastcoat, to set ye off well, Play with your Bracelets, sing: you must learn to rhime too, And riddle neatly; studie the hardest language, And 'tis no matter whether it be sense, or no, So it go seemlie off. Be sure ye profit In kissing, kissing sweetly: there lies a main point, A key that opens to all practick pleasure; I'le help ye to a friend of mine shall teach ye, And suddenlie: your Country way is fulsome.
Hon. Have ye schools for all these mysteries?
Al. O yes, And several hours prefix'd to studie in: Ye may have Kalenders to know the good hour, And when to take a jewel: for the ill too, When to refuse, with observations on 'em; Under what Sign 'tis best meeting in an Arbor, And in what Bower, and hour it works; a thousand, When in a Coach, when in a private lodging, With all their vertues.
Hon. Have ye studied these? How beastly they become your youth? how bawdily? A woman of your tenderness, a teacher, Teacher of these lewd Arts? of your full beauty? A man made up in lust would loath this in ye: The rankest Leacher, hate such impudence. They say the Devil can assume heavens brightness, And so appear to tempt us: sure thou art no woman.
Al. I joy to find ye thus.
Hon. Thou hast no tenderness, No reluctation in thy heart: 'tis mischief.
Al. All's one for that; read these and then be satisfi'd, A few more private rules I have gather'd for ye, Read 'em, and well observe 'em: so I leave ye. [Exit.
Viol. A wond[ro]us wicked woman: shame go with thee.
Hon. What new Pandoras box is this? I'le see it, Though presently I tear it. Read Thine Viola, 'Tis in our own wills to believe and follow.
Worthy Honora, as you have begun In vertues spotless school, so forward run: Pursue that nobleness, and chaste desire You ever had, burn in that holy fire; And a white Martyr to fair memorie Give up your name, unsoil'd of infamy.
How's this? Read yours out Sister: this amazes me.
Vio. Fear not thou yet unblasted Violet, Nor let my wanton words a doubt beget, Live in that peace and sweetness of thy bud, Remember whose thou art, and grow still good. Remember what thou art, and stand a storie Fit for thy noble Sex, and thine own glorie.
Hon. I know not what to think.
Viol. Sure a good woman, An excellent woman, Sister.
Hon. It confounds me; Let 'em use all their arts, if these be their ends, The Court I say breeds the best foes and friends. Come, let's be honest wench, and doe our best service.
Viol. A most excellent woman, I will love her. [Exeunt.
