78 X1v 78

The Comedy named the Several Wits.

The wiſe Wit, the wild Wit, the cholerick Wit, the humble Wit.

The Names of the Perſons.

Monſieur Generoſity.

Monſieur Nobiliſſimo.

Monſieur Perfection.

Monſieur Importunate.

Monſieur Bon Compaignon.

Monſieur Profeſſion.

Monſieur Comorade.

Monſieur Diſcretion.

Monſieur Compliment.

Doctor Freedom, a Doctor of Phyſick.

Madam Mere.

Madamoſel Capriſia.

Madamoſel Doltche.

Madamoſel Solid.

Madamoſel Volant.

A Grave Matron.

Madamoſel Doltches Nurſe.

Two Maid-ſervants.

Prologue.

This Play I do preſent to Lady wits,

And hope the wit, each ſeveral humour fits;

For though all wit, be wit, as of wit kind,

Yet different be, as men, not of one mind;

For different men, hath different minds we know,

So different Wits, in different humours flow.

The cholerick Wit is rough, and ſalt as brine,

The humble Wit flows ſmooth, in a ſtrait line:

A wiſe Wit flows in ſtreams, freſh, pure and clear,

Where neither weeds, nor troubled waves appear:

But a wild wit in every ditch doth flow,

And with the mudde doth foul, and filthy grow.

The
79 X2r 79

The Comedy Named The Several Wits.

Act I.

Scene 1.

Enter Madamoſel Capriſia, and her maid.

M aid

Madam, Monſieur Importunate is come to viſit you.

Madam. Capriſia

Did not I tell you, I would receive no viſits to day.

Maid

I did tell him that you deſired to be excuſed; but he ſaid, he would not excuſe you, for he muſt ſee you.

Madam. Capriſ

Go tell him I have taken Phyſick.

Maid

I did tell him ſo, but he ſaid, he would ſtay untill it had done working.

Madam. Capriſ

I would it were working in his belly.

Ex.

Scene 2.

Enter Madamoſel Volante, and Monſieur Bon Compaignon.

Bon Compaignon

Lady, hearing of your great wit, I am come to prove report.

Madam. Volante

You will find him a lyer, Sir.

Bon Compaignon

I had rather report ſhould be a lyer, than I a Lover.

Madam. Volante

Why, then we agree in a mind, for I had rather be thought a fool, than to be troubled with a fools company.

Bon Compaignon

You need not be troubled with that, for love is ſtrongeſt abſented.

Madam. Volante

O! but there is an old Proverb, that love will break thorough ſtone-walls, wherefore if you be in love, you will haunt me like a Fairy, no locks nor bolts will keep you out, for fairy love will creep thorough a creavice.

X2 Bon 80 X2v 80

Bon Compaignon

Faith Lady! I find now, that love is the Queen of Fayries, for it hath crept thorough the key-hole of my eares, and hath got into my head, and their dances ſuch roundelays, as makes my brain diſſie.

Madam. Volante

If once your brain begins to be diſſie, your ſenſes will ſtagger, and your reaſon will fall down from its ſeat, and when the reaſon is diſplaced, and the wit is diſtemper’d, the mind become mad, and to prevent the miſchief that may follow, I will depart in time.

Ex.

Scene 3.

Enter Madamoſel Capriſia, as at the door meets Monſieur Importunate, he stops her paſſage.

Monſieur Importunate

You ſhall not paſs, untill you have paid me a tribute.

Madam. Capriſia

What Tribute?

Monſieur Importunate

A kiſs.

Madam. Capriſ

I will pay no ſuch tribute, for I will bring ſuch a number of words armed with ſuch ſtrong reaſons, as they ſhall make my way.

Monſieur Importunate

Your words will prove poor Pilgrims, which come to offer at the Alter of my lips.

Madam. Capriſ

Nay, rather than ſo, they ſhall come as humble Petitioners, and as it were, kneeling at your heart, ſhall with innocency beg for gentle civility.

Monſieur Importunate

I will ſhut the gates of my ears againſt them, and my lips as a bat ſhall force them back, being a preciſe factious rout.

Madam. Capriſ

Satire ſhall lead my ſharp words on, break ope thoſe gates, and anger like conſuming fire ſhall both deſtroy your will and baſe deſire.

Monſieur Importunate

I will try that.

Madam. Capriſ

But I will rather make a ſafe retreat, than venture, leaſt your rude ſtrength might overcome my words.

She goeth back, he follows her

Monſieur Importunate

I will march after, at the heels of you.

Ex. Scene
81 Y1r 81

Scene 4.

Enter Madamoſel Doltche, and Monſieur Compliment.

Doltche

Sir, you prayſe me ſo much, as I may doubt, or rather believe you flatter me; for it is not poſſible to be ſo rare a creature, as you expreſs me to be, unleſs I were ſomething divine, perchance I may be worthy of ſome of your inferiour Prayſes, but not all your high and mighty ones.

Monſieur Compliment

You are more than either I can expreſs, or think you to be.

Mad. Doltche

Nay, if I be above your thoughts, I am above your delight; for man-kind takes no great pleaſure in that they comprehend not.

Monſ. Compliment

I believe you do not comprehend how well I love you.

Mad. Doltche

No truely, for love is like infinite, it hath no circumference, wherefore I will not trouble my ſelf in loves wayes, ſince it is an endleſſe journey.

Monſ. Compliment

But ſurely, Lady, though you cannot find that worth in me, as merits your eſteem and affection, yet you will favour me for your Fathers command, and love me for his deſire.

Doltche

If my Father deſires me to dye, I ſhall ſatisfie his deſire, for it is in my power to take away my own life, when I will; but it is not in my power to love thoſe my Father would have me; for love is not to be commanded, nor directed, nor governed, nor preſcribed, for love is free, and not to be controuled; Alſo I may marry a man my Father deſires me, but ſure my Father will not deſire, nor command me to marry, if I cannot love the man he would have me marry, as I ought to do a Husband.

Ex.

Scene 5.

Enter Madam. Capriſia, and a Grave Matron.

Matron

Madamoſel Capriſia, there is a Gentleman, one of my acquaintance doth deſire to ſee you.

Madam. Capriſ

He deſires more than I do, for I never ſee a man, but I wiſh a vail before my ſight, or one before his.

Matron

Have you taken a ſurfeit of eyes, as you hate to look on a mans face.

Madam. Capriſ

Yes, of wanton eyes, that skips from face to face, which makes me love the blind.

Matron

I wonder whether the ſoul may be ſatisfied, or ſurfeit as the ſenſes do.

Capriſ

The thoughts, paſſions and appetites, which are begot betwixt the ſoul and ſenſes, will ſurfeit, if they be over-fed.

Y Enter 82 Y1v 82 Enter Monſieur Bon Compaignon.

Bon Compaignon

What is that Lady that is over-fed?

Capriſ

A fools-head.

Bon Compaignon

How can a fools head be over-fed?

Capriſ

With hearing and ſeeing more than it can digeſt into underſtanding.

Bon Compaignon

You have not ſuch a head, Lady, for your head is ſo full of wit, as it perpetually flows thorough your lips; yet whatſoever it doth receive, the Son of reaſon doth digeſt, and refines into ſpirits of ſenſes.

Capriſ

I muſt confeſs, my tongue is more fertil than my brain, the which comes more words from the one, than ſenſe or reaſon from the other; but leaſt I ſhould over-fill your ears with my idle talks, I will leave you.

Ex.

Bon Compaignon

And I will follow you, for my ears are unſatisfied, having but a taſte of her wit, which makes a greater appetite.

Bon Compaignon, and Matron Ex.

Scene 6.

Enter Madamoſel Solid, Monſieur Profeſſion, and Monſieur Comorade his friend.

Monſieur Profeſſion

Lady, you live, as if you lived not, living ſo ſolitary a life.

Lady Solid

Indeed, few doth live as they ſhould, that is, to live within themſelves; for the ſoul, which is the ſupream part of the life, is never at home, but goeth wandering about, from place to place, from perſon to perſon, and ſo from one thing to another, and not only the ſoul wanders thus, but all the Family of the ſoul, as the thoughts and paſſions; for ſhould any thing knock at the gates of the ſoul, which are the ſenſes, or enter the chambers of the ſoul, which is the heart, and the head, they would find them empty, for the thoughts and paſſions, which paſſions are of the Bed-chamber, which is, the heart and Preſence-chamber, which is, the head wherein they ought to wait, are for the moſt part, all gone abroad; as for the thoughts, they are gone to inquire news, walking and running into every Village, Town, City, and Country, and Kingdom, all to inquire what ſuch and ſuch perſons ſaid or acted, and the particular affairs of every particular perſon, and every particular Family, as whether they increaſe with riches, or decay with poverty; whether they live beyond their means, or keep within their compaſſe; what men and women are in love, who are conſtant, and who are falſe; what contracts are ſigned, or what contracts are broken; who marries, and who lives ſingle lives; who is happy in marriage, and who is not; what children is born, who hath children, and who hath none; who is handſome, and who is ill-favoured; who dyes, and of what diſeaſes they died of: whether they left wealth or were poor, or who were their Heirs, or 83 Y2r 83 or Executors; who are Widowers, Widows or Orphants; who hath loſſes, croſſes and misfortunes, who is in favour or diſgrace with ſuch Princes or States; who is at Law, what ſuits there is loſt or gained; what bribes were given and taken, who was arreſted, or impriſoned for debts; or ſet in the Pillary or Stocks for diſorder, or caſt into the Counter for miſdemeanour; who is accuſed or impriſoned for Robbery, Murther or Treaſon; who is condemned or reprieved; what deaths they died, or torments indur’d; what Laws there is made, repeald or broke; what Officers or Magiſtrates there are made, plac’d or diſplac’d, or put out; what factions or bruleries there is, what leagues and aſſociates there is made betwixt States and Princes; what Wars, or Peace there is, or like to be betwixt ſuch or ſuch Kingdoms; what triumphs, or ſhews there is, or like to be; what Mountebanks, Tumblers, and Dancers there is; what ſtrange Birds, Beaſts or Monſters there is to be ſeen; what Drunkards, Bawds and Whores there is, what Duels hath been fought, and the cauſe of their quarrels; who hath loſt at play, and who hath won; what new faſhions there is; what Stuffs, Silks, Laces, and Imbroideries there is; what Lords, Ladyes, Knights or Eſquires hath new Coaches or Liveries; what rich cloths they had, or have; what Church is moſt frequented, what Balls, Masks, Plays ; Feaſts there is, or like to be, and many the like vain, idle, unuſefull, unprofitable inquiries, obſervations and entertainments; their thoughts imployes and waſts their time with: as for the paſſions and affections, they are as much abroad, as the reſt of the thoughts, ſome being with ſuch and ſuch men, or ſuch and ſuch women, as firſt with one, and then with another; or with ſuch a houſe, or houſes, or lands, or wwith ſuch Jewels, or Plate, or Hangings, or Pictures, or the like; alſo the paſſions and affections wanders amongſt Beaſts, as with ſuch a Horſe, Dog, Monkey, or the like; or with Birds, as with ſuch a Hawk, Cock of the Game, or prating Parrot, or ſinging Linet, or the like; or the paſſions and affections are attending, watching, or ſeeking after ſuch or ſuch Offices or Commands, Governments or Titles; nay, the very ſoul it ſelf goeth after ſuch and ſuch deſignes, ſo as it doth, as it were, run away from it ſelf, it follows the World, and worldly things, but never draws any benefit to it ſelf, but that ſoul that keeps at home, which very few ſouls doth; imployes it ſelf, for it ſelf, it only views the World for knowledge, yet ſo, as it looks, as out of a window on a proſpect, it uſes the World out of neceſſity, but not ſerves the World out of ſlavery; it is induſtrious for its own tranquility, fame and everlaſting life, for which it leaves nothing unſought, or undone, is a wiſe ſoul.

Monſieur Profeſſion

Madam, my ſoul is tyed to your ſoul, with ſuch an undiſſoulable knot of affection, that nothing, no, not death can loſe it, nor break it aſunder; wherefore, whereſoever your ſoul doth go, mine will follow it, and bear it company.

Madam. Solid

Then your ſoul will be incognita, for my ſoul will not know whether your ſoul be with it, or not.

Ex.

Monſieur Comorade

Faith Thom. its happy for thy ſoul, to be drawn by her magnetick ſoul; for that may draw, lead or direct thy ſoul to Heaven; otherwiſe thy ſoul will fall into Hell with the preſſure of thy ſins, for thy ſoul is as heavy, as crimes can make it.

Monſ. Prof

Why, then the divel would have found my ſoul an honeſt ſoul, in being full weight, his true coyn, ; the right ſtamp of his Picture, or Figure, Y2 for 84 Y2v 84 for which he would have uſed my ſoul well, and if Heaven gives me not this, Lady, Hell take me.

Monſieur Comorade

Certainly you may be the Divels gueſt, but whether you will be the Ladys Husband, it is to be doubted.

Monſ. Profeſſion

Well, I will do my endeavour to get her, and more, a man cannot do.

Ex.

Scene 7.

Enter Madamoſel Capriſia, and Monſieur Importunate.

Monſieur Importunate

You are the rareſt beauty, and greateſt wit in the World.

Mad. Capriſ

Wit is like beauty, and beauty is oftener created in the fancie, than the face; ſo wit oftener by opinion, than in the brain, not, but ſurely there may be a real beauty, and ſo a real wit, yet that real wit, is no wit to the ignorant, no more than beauty to the blind, for the wit is loſt to the underſtanding, as beauty is loſt to the eyes, and it is not in nature to give, what is not in nature to receive, nor in nature to ſhew what is not in nature to be ſeen; ſo there muſt be eyes to ſee beauty, and eares to hear wit, and underſtanding to judge of both, and you have neither judgments eyes, nor underſtandings ears, nor rational ſense.

Monſieur Importunate

Why, then you have neither beauty nor wit.

Mad. Capriſ

I have both, but your commendations are from report; for fools ſpeaks by rote, as Parrots do.

Ex. Monſieur Importunate ſolus.

Monſieur Importunate

She is like a Bee loaded with ſweet honey, but her tongue is the ſting, that bliſters all it ſtrikes on.

Ex.

Scene 8.

Enter Madamoſel Volante, and Monſieur Bon Compaignon.

Bon Compaignon

Lady, why are you ſo ſilent.

Madam Volante

Why ſhould I ſpeak to thoſe that underſtands me not.

Bon Compaignon

Why? are you ſo difficult to be underſtood.

Mad. Volante

No, but underſtanding is ſo difficult to find.

Bon Compaignon

So, and ſince there is ſuch a total decay of underſtanding in every brain, as there is none to be found, but in your own, you will make a new Common-wealth in yours, where your thoughts, as wiſe Magiſtrates, and good Citizens, ſhall govern and traffick therein, and your words ſhall be as Letters of Mart, and your ſenſes ſhall be as legate Embaſſadors that lives in other Kingdoms, which takes inſtructions, and give intelligence, or rather your thoughts are deſtinies, and fates, and your words their ſeveral decrees.

Mad. Volante

Do you think my thoughts can warrant Laws, or can my words decree them?

Bon 85 Z1r 85

Bon Compaignon

I believe your thoughts are ſo wiſe and juſt, that whatſoever they allow of, muſt be beſt, and your words are ſo witty, rational, poſitive and powerfull, as none can contradict them.

Mad. Volante

Good Sir, contradict your ſelf, or Truth will contradict you.

Bon Compaignon

Nay faith, I will never take the pains to contradict my ſelf; let Truth do what ſhe will.

Ex.

Act II.

Scene 9.

Enter Madam la Mere, and her daughter Madamoſel Capriſia.

Madam Mere

Daughter, did you entertain the Lady Viſit civilly?

Mad. Capriſ

Yes Mother, extraordinary civilly, for I gave her leave to entertain herſelf with her own diſcourſe.

Mad. Mere

That was rudely.

Mad. Capriſ

O no, for certainly it is the height of courtſhip to our ſex, to let them talk all the talk themſelves; for all women takes more delight to diſcourſe themſelves, than to hear another; and they are extreamly pleaſed, if any liſtens, or at leaſt ſeems to liſten to them, For the truth is, that talking is one of the moſt luxurious appetites women have; wherefore I could not be more civiller, than to bar and reſtrain the effeminate nature in my ſelf, to give her tongue liberty.

Madam. Mere

But you ſhould have ſpoken a word now, and then, as giving her civilly ſome breathing reſt for her diſcourſe to lean upon.

Mad. Capriſ

Her ſpeech was ſo ſtrong, and long-winded, as it run with a full ſpeed, without ſtop or ſtay, it neither need ſpurre nor whip; the truth is it had been well, if it had been held in with the bridle of moderation, for it ran quite beyond the bounds of diſcretion, although ſometimes it ran upon the uneven wayes of ſlander, other times upon the ſtony ground of cenſure, and ſometimes in the foul wayes of immodeſty, and often upon the furrows of non-ſenſe; beſides, it did uſually skip over the hedges of Truth; and certainly, if the neceſſities of nature, and the ſeparations of Neigh-bourhood, and the changes and inter-courſe of, and in the affairs of the World, and men did not forcibly ſtop, ſometimes a womans tongue, it would run as far as the confines of death.

Mad. Mere

But let me tell you Daughter, your tongue is as ſharp, as a Serpents ſting, and will wound as cruelly and deadly where it bites.

Capriſ

It proves my tongue a womans tongue.

Mad. Mere

Why ſhould a womans tongue have the effects of a Serpents ſting.

Capriſ

The reaſon is evident, for the great Serpent that tempted, and ſo perverted our Grandmother Eve in Paradiſe, had a monſtrous ſting, and our Grandmother whetted her tongue with his ſting, and ever ſince, all her effeminate raſe hath tongues that ſtings.

Ex.
Z Scene. 86 Z1v 86

Scene 10

Enter Madamoſel Doltche, and Monſieur Bon Compaignon.

Bon Compaignon

Lady, Monſieur Nobiliſſimo is ſo in love with you, as he cannot be happy, untill you be his wife.

Doltche

I wonder he ſhould be in love with me, ſince I have neither beauty to allure him, nor ſo much riches, as to intice him, nor wit to perſwade him to marry me.

Bon Compaignon

But Lady, you have vertue, good nature, ſweet diſpoſition, gracefull behaviour, which are ſufficient Subjects for love to ſettle on, did you want what you mentioned, but you have all, not only what any man can wiſh or deſire with a wife, but you have as much as you can wiſh and deſire to have your ſelf.

Doltche

I will rather be ſo vain, as to ſtrive to believe you, than rudely to contradict you.

Bon Compaignon

It is neither erroneous, nor vain to believe a truth, Lady.

Doltche

Nor civil to make a doubt, Sir; but I am obliged unto you for that, you help to cover my defects, and wants in nature, with your civil commendation, and your kind eſtimation of me.

Ex.

Scene 11.

Enter Monſieur Importunate, and Madamoſel Capriſia.

Importunate

My fair wit, you look as if you were angry with me.

Capriſ

You dwell not ſo long in my mind, as to make me angry, my thoughts are ſtrangers to your figures.

She offers to go away, and he holds her from going.

Importunate

Nay faith, now I have you, I will keep you perforce, untill you pay me the kiſs you owe me.

Capriſ

Let me go, for I had rather my eyes were eternally ſeal’d up, my ears for ever ſtopt cloſe from ſound, than hear or ſee you.

Importunate

I care not whether you hear, or ſee me, ſo you will kiſſe me.

Capriſ

Let me go, or otherwiſe my lips ſhall curſe you, and my words being whetted with injurie, are become ſo ſharp, as they will wound you.

Importunate

I will keep you untill your words begs for mercy in the moſt humbleſt ſtile, and after the moſt mollifying manner.

Capriſ

Hell take you, or Earth devoure you like a beaſt, never to riſe.

Importunate

Love ſtrike your heart with ſhooting thorough your eyes.

Capriſ 87 Z2r 87

Capriſ

May you be blown up with pride, untill you burſt into madneſſe, may your thoughts be more troubled than rough waters, more raging than a tempeſt; may your ſenſes feel no pleaſure, your body find no reſt, nor your life any peace.

Importunate

May you love me with a doting affection, may I be the only man you will imbrace, and may you think me to be as handſome as Narciſſus did himſelf.

Capriſ

You appear to me in all the horrid ſhapes that fancy can invent.

Enter Madam Mere.

Madam Mere

Why, how now daughter, alwayes quarreling.

Capriſ

Can you blame me, when I am beſet with rudeneſs, and aſſaulted with uncivil actions.

Madam Mere

Let her alone, Monſieur Importunate, for ſhe is a very Shrew.

Importunate

Well, go thy wayes, for all the Shrews that ever nature made, you are the curſeſt one.

Ex.

Scene 12.

Enter Madamoſel Volante, and a Grave Matron.

Volante

I am not of the humour; as moſt women are, which is, to pleaſe themſelves with thinking, or rather believing, that all men that looks on them, are in love with them: But I take pleaſure, that all men that I look on, ſhould think I am in love with them; which men will ſoon believe, being as ſelf-conceited as women are.

Matron

But where is the pleaſure, Lady.

Volante

Why, in ſeeing their phantaſtical garbs, their ſtrutting poſtures, their ſmiling faces, and the jackanapeſly actions, and then I laugh in my mind, to think what fools they are, ſo as I make my ſelf merry at their folly, and not at my own.

Matron

But men will appear as much Jackanapeſes, when they are in love with you, as if they thought you were in love with them, for all Lovers are apiſh, more or leſs.

Volante

I grant all Lovers are, but thoſe that think themſelves beloved, appears more like the grave Babboon, than the skipping Jackanapes; for though their actions are as ridiculous, yet they are with more formality, as being more circumſpectly fooliſh, or ſelf-conceitedly vain.

Matron

Well, for all your deriſions and geſting at men, I ſhall ſee you at one time or other, ſhot with Cupids arrow.

Volante

By deaths dart, you may; but never by loves arrow; for death hath power on me, though love hath none.

Matron

There is an old ſaying, that time, importunity and opportunity, wins the chaſteſt She, when thoſe are joyned with wealth and dignity; but Z2 to 88 Z2v 88 to yield to a lawfull love, neither requires much time, nor pleading, if the Suiters have but Perſon, Title and Wealth, which women for the moſt part do prize, before valour, wiſdom or honeſty.

Volante

Women hath reaſon to prefer certainties before uncertainties; for mens Perſons, Titles and Wealths, are viſible to their view and knowledge, but their Valours, Wiſdoms and Honeſties, doth reſt upon Faith; for a coward may fight, and a fool may ſpeak rationally, and act prudently ſometimes, and a knave may appear an honeſt man.

Matrons

They may ſo, but a valiant man, will never act the part of a coward; nor a wiſe man prove a fool, nor an honeſt man appear a knave.

Volante

There can be no proof of any mans Valour, Wiſdom or Honeſty; but at the day of his death, in aged years, when as he hath paſt the danger in Wars, the tryals in Miſeries, the malice of Fortune, the temptations of Pleaſures, the inticements of Vice, the heights of Glory, the changes of Life, provokers of Paſſion, deluders of Senſes, torments of Pain, or painfull Torments, and to choſe a Husband that hath had the Tryals, and experiences of all theſe, is to choſe a Husband out of the Grave, and rather than I will marry death, I will live a maid, as long as I live, and when I dye, let death do what he will with me.

Ex.

Scene 13.

Enter Monſieur Profeſſion in mourning; then enters his Friend, Monſieur Comorade.

Monſieur Comorade

Well met, I have travelled thorough all the Town, and have inquired of every one I could ſpeak to, and could neither hear of thee, nor ſee thee.

Profeſſion

It were happy for me, if I had neither ears nor eyes.

Comorade

Why, what is the matter, man?

He obſerves his mourning, and then ſtarts.

Gods-me! Now I perceive thou art in mourning: which of thy Friends is dead?

Profeſſion

The chiefeſt friend I had, which mwas my heart; For that is dead, being kill’d with my Miſtreſs cruelty, and buryed in her inconſtancy.

Comorade

I dare ſwear, not the whole heart; for every mans heart, is like a head of Garlick, which may be divided into many ſeveral cloves: Wherefore, cheer up, man; for it is but one clove, that death, or love, hath ſwallowed down into his Stomach, to cure him of the wind-cholick; and ſince thy heart hath ſo many cloves, thou mayſt well ſpare him one, and be never the worſe; But if it be buryed, as you ſay, in your Miſtriſſes inconſtancy; it is to be hop’d it will be converted into the ſame inconſtant humour, and that will cure the other part of thy heart.

Pro- 89 Aa1r 89

Profeſſion

O! She was the Saint of my thoughts, and the Goddeſſe of my ſoul.

Comorade

Prethee let me be thy moral Tutor, to inſtruct thee in the knowledge of Truth, and to let thee know, that vertue is the true Goddeſſe, to which all men ought to bow to; and that youth, beauty and wealth, are fixt to be forſaken, when vertue comes in place; and vertue is conſtant, both to its principals and promiſes; Wherefore, if thy Miſtreſſe be inconſtant, ſhe cannot be vertuous, wherefore let her go.

Monſieur Profeſſion fetches a great ſigh, and goes out without ſpeaking a word. Comorade alone.

Comorade

I think his heart is dead in good earneſt; for it hath no ſenſe of what I have ſaid.

Ex.

Scene 14.

Enter Madamoſel Mere, and her Daughter Madamoſel Capriſia.

M ere

Daughter, you have a ſufficiency of wit and beauty, to get many Lovers to choſe a Husband, if you had but patience to entertain, and prudence to keep them; But your being croſſe, will loſe your Lovers, as ſoon as your beauty hath taken them.

Capriſ

It is no prize for a woman to have ſuch Lovers, that hath amorous natures; for it is their nature that drives them to her, and not the womans beauty or wit, that draws them to her; and there is leſs force required to drive, than to draw; but the truth is, that moſt men hath ſuch threed-bare ſouls, as if the nap of their underſtanding were worn of; or indeed, their ſouls ſeems, as if there were never any woven thereon, as that nature hath made all their ſouls, thin and courſe, or as if time had Moath-eaten them; which makes me, although not to hate you, yet to deſpiſe that Sex; for men that ſhould imitate the Gods, yet are they worſe than Beaſts, which makes me ſhun their beaſtly company.

Mere

Daughter, you ſpeak and judge paſſionately, and paſſion can never reaſon well; for how is it poſſible, for reaſon to exerciſe its function, when paſſion oppoſes, and is too ſtrong for it.

Capriſ

Truth may be delivered in paſſion, but not corrupted with paſſion; for truth is truth, howſoever it be divulged, or elſe it is no truth, but falſehood.

Ex.
Aa Scene 90 Aa1v 90

Scene 1415.

Enter Monſieur Perfection, and Madamoſel Solid, dreſt very fine.

Perfection

You are wondrous fine, to day, Madam.

Solid

If I ſeem fine, to day, I am obliged more to my fancie, than my wealth, for this finerie.

Perfection

The truth is, you are ſo adjouſted, ſo curiouſly accoutred, as I perceive, judgement and wit were joyned aſſociates in your dreſſing.

Solid

I had rather be commended, or applauded for judgement and wit, than for wealth and beauty; for I had rather have my ſoul commended, than my perſon, or fortunes.

Perfection

Certainly, I believe you have a more rational ſoul, than any other of your Sex have.

Solid

Alas? My ſoul is but a young ſoul, a meer Novice ſoul, it wants growth, or my ſoul is like a houſe, which time the architectour hath newly begun to build; and the ſenſes, which are the Labourers, wants information and experience, which are the materials for the rational ſoul to be built on, or with; but ſuch materials as hath been brought in, I ſtrive and endeavour to make the beſt, and moſt convenient uſe for a happy life.

Perfection

How ſay you? the beſt uſe for a good Wife!

Solid

No, that little reaſon I have, tells me, to be a Wife, is to be unhappy, for content ſeldom in marriage dwells, diſturbance keeps poſſeſſion.

Perfection

If you diſprayſe marriage, you will deſtroy my hopes, and fruſtrate my honeſt deſign.

Solid

Why? what is your deſign?

Perfection

To be a Suiter to you.

Solid

And what is your hopes?

Perfection

To be your Husband.

Solid

If I thought marriage were neceſſary, although unhappy, yet there would be required more wit and judgement in choſing a Husband than in dreſſing my ſelf; wherefore it were requiſite, that ſome of more wit and judgement than my ſelf, ſhould choſe for me, otherwiſe I may be betray’d by flattery, outward garb, inſinuations or falſe-hood, and through an unexperienced innocency, I may take words and ſhews, for worth and merit, which I pray the Gods I may not do; for to marry an unworthy man, were to me to be at the height of affliction, and marriage being unhappy in it ſelf, needs no addition to make it worſe.

Perfection

Madam? Diſcretion forbids me to commend my ſelf, although I am a Lover; For had I merits worthy great praiſes, it were unfit I ſhould mention them; but there is not any man or woman, that is, or can be exactly known, either by themſelves or others; for nature is obſcure, ſhe never divulges herſelf, neither to any creature, nor by, or through any creature; for ſhe hides herſelf under infinite varieties, changes and chances; She diſguiſes herſelf with antick Vizards, ſhe appears ſometimes old, ſometimes young, ſometimes vaded and withered, ſometimes green and flouriſhing, ſometimes feeble and weak, ſometimes ſtrong and luſty, ſometimes deformed, and ſometimes beautifull; ſometimes ſhe appears with horrour, ſometimes with delight, ſometimes ſhe appears in glimſing lights of knowledge, then 91 Aa2r 91 then clouds herſelf with ignorance. But, Madam, ſince we are as ignorant of our ſouls, as of our fortunes, and as ignorant of ouur lives, as of our deaths; we cannot make any choice upon certainties, but upon uncertainties, and if we be good whilſt we live, our deaths will be our witneſſe to prove it; in the mean time, let our promiſes ſtand bound for us, which is the beſt ingagement we can give; although it may fail; and let our marriage be as the Bond of agreement, although we may forfeit the ſame, yet let us make it as ſure as we can.

Solid

I will conſider it, and then I will anſwer your requeſt.

Perfection

That is, to yield.

Solid

It is like enough.

Ex.

Scene 16.

Enter Madamoſel Capriſia, and Monſieur Importunate.

Importunate

My fair Shrew, are you walking alone.

Capriſia

My thoughts are my beſt Companions.

Importunate

Pray, let a thought of me be one of the company.

Capriſ

When you enter into my mind, you do appear ſo mean, as my nobler thoughts, ſcorns that thought that bears your figure.

Importunate

Thoughts are as notes, and the tongue is the Fiddle that makes the muſick; but your words, as the cords, are out of tune.

Capriſ

You ſay ſo, by reaſon they are not ſet to your humour, to ſound your prayſe.

Importunate

I ſay you are very handſome, nature hath given you a ſurpaſſing beauty, but pride and ſelf-conceit, hath caſt ſuch a ſhadow, as it hath darkened it, as vaporous clowds doth the bright Sun.

Capriſ

Your opinions are clowdy, and your tongue like thunder, ſtrikes my ears with rude, uncivil words.

Ex. He alone.

Importunate

I perceive humility, dwels not with beauty, nor wit; but is, as great a ſtranger, as with Riches and Titles.

Ex.
Aa2 Scene 92 Aa2v 92

Scene 17.

Enter Madamoſel Volante, and Monſieur Diſcretion.

Diſcretion

Madam, the fame of your wit, drew me hither.

Volante

I am ſorry my wit hath a greater fame than my worth, that my vain words ſhould ſpread further than my vertuous actions, for noble fame is built on worthy deeds.

Diſcretion

But it were pity you ſhould bury your wit in ſilence; Beſides, your diſcourſe may profit the hearers, either with delight or inſtructions.

Volante

O no, for diſcourſes pleaſes according to the humour, or underſtanding of the hearers; Beſides, it is the nature of mankind, to think each other fools, and none but themſelves wiſe; Then why ſhould I waſt my life to no purpoſe, knowing times motion ſwift.

Discretion

You do not waſt your life through your words, if your words gets you a fame, and eſteem of the World.

Volante

What ſhall I be the better, in having the Worlds eſteem, nay, it is likely that prayſes (whilſt I live) may do me harm, creating vain and falſe opinions in my imaginations of ſelf-conceit, of being wiſer, or wittier, than really I am; which opinions may make me commit errors, and I had rather the World ſhould laugh at me, for want of wit, than ſcorn me for my follies.

Discretion

But if witty diſcourſes, will get you an eſteem, what will your wiſe actions, and vertuous life; and prayſe is the reward to all noble endeavours; beſide, prayſe is no burthen, but it often ſerves as a ballance, to make the life ſwim ſteady in Sea-faring World: But yet, Lady, I would not have your wit out-run your prayſe, which it will do, if you ſpur it too hard, for wit muſt be uſed like a ſtrong ſpirited horſe, it muſt be reſttraind with a bridle, not prick’d with the ſpur, leaſt it ſhould run away, and fling the Rider, which is, the Speaker, into a ditch of diſgrace; neither muſt it run wildly about, but muſt be wrought, to obey the hand and heel, which is, time and occaſion, to ſtop, and to change, as when to ſpeak, and to whom to ſpeak, and on what to ſpeak, and when to make a ſtop of ſilence, otherwise, it will run out of the ſmooth paths of civility, or the clean wayes of modeſty: Beſides, wit muſt not only be taught, to amble in rhime, and to trot in proſe, but to have a ſure footing of ſenſe, and a ſetled head of reaſon, leaſt it ſhould ſtumble in diſputes, or fall into impertinent diſcourſes; likewiſe, wit may be taught to go in aires of fancies, or low, upon the ground of proof.

Volante

But Sir, you muſt conſider, that women are no good managers of wit, for they ſpoyl all their tongue rides on, hackneys it out, untill it becomes a dull jade.

Diſcretion

Leaſt I ſhould give an ill example of tyreing in our allegorical diſcourſe, I ſhall kiſs your hands, and take my leave for this time.

Ex. Mada- 93 Bb1r 9793 Madamoſel alone. She fetches a great ſigh.

Volante

Monſieur Diſcretion is a handſom man, he hath a wiſe countenance, and a manly garb; his diſcourſe is rational and witty, ſober and diſcreet: But good Lord! how fooliſhly I talk to him? I never ſpake duller, nor ſo ſenſeleſly, ſince I was taught words, and he came purpoſely, as he told me, to hear me ſpeak, and prove my wit; But it was a ſign he heard none, for he grew ſoon a weary of my company, he ſtaid ſo ſhort a time: I am troubled often with prating fools, whoſe viſits are as tedious, as their diſcourſes: But Lord! why do I condemn others, as fools, when this Gentleman, Monſieur Diſcretion, hath proved me one.

Ex.

Act III.

Scene 18.

Enter Madamoſel Capriſia, and Monſieur Importunate.

Importunate

What? muſing by your ſelf, alone! May I queſtion your thoughts?

Capriſ

If you do, you will not be reſolved, for there is none at home, to give you an anſwer.

Importunate

Why, where are they? wandring abroad?

Capriſ

They like a brood of Birds, are flown out of their Neaſts; for thoughts flies with ſwifter ſpeed, than time can do, having large wings, of quick deſire.

Importunate

Faith, you are a great wit!

Capriſ

You are a great trouble!

She offers to go forth, He ſtayes her; She is angry.

Capriſ

What, you will not force me to ſtay againſt my will?

Importunate

Yes, that I will; for your Father ſaith, you ſhall be my Wife, and then you will imbrace, and kiſs me, as coy as you are now.

Capriſ

Which if I do, I wiſh my arms, when they do wind about your waſte, may ſting as Serpents, and that my kiſſes may prove poyſon to your lips.

Importunate

What, are you ſeriouſly angry; Nay, then ’tis time to leave you.

Ex. The Lady alone.

Capriſ

I have heard, that gallant men are civil to our Sex, but I have met with none, but rough, rude, rugged natures, more cruel than wild Tygars.

Bb Enter 94 Bb1v 9894 Enter Monſieur Bon Compaignon.

Bon Compaignon

Why do you complain of our Sex, Lady? what is it you would have?

Capriſ

I would have a gray-headed wiſdom, a middle-aged humour, a freſh mouthed wit, a new bloom’d youth, and a beauty that every one fancies.

Bon Compaignon

Why, ſo you have.

Capriſ

Then I have what I deſire.

She goes out.

Bon Compaignon

O! She hath a ſharp wit, it is vitral wit.

Ex.

Scene 19.

Enter Madamoſel Solid, and Monſieur Comorade.

Comorade

Lady, you have kill’d a Gentleman.

Solid

Who, I! why I never had the courage to kill a fly.

Comorade

You have kill’d him with your diſdain.

Solid

I am ſorry he had ſo weak a life, as ſo ſlight a cauſe, as a womans diſdain, could deſtroy it; but for my part, I diſdain no man, although I cannot intimately love all men.

Comorade

He is but one man, Lady.

Solid

And I have but one particular love to give, or rather I may ſay, to be gain’d, for I cannot diſpoſe of it; for it will be only diſpoſed by it ſelf, without my leave, ſo as I muſt be guided by that which will not be guided by me? I can lend my pity, but not give him my love.

Comorade

I ſuppoſe you have given him ſome encouragement, and hopes, if not an aſſurance, by reaſon, he ſayes, you have forſaken him.

Solid

Not unleſs common civility, be an encouragement, and ordinary converſation gives hopes; as for an aſſurance, indeed I gave Monſieur Profeſſion; For I did aſſure him, I could not love him, as he would have me love him, as Husband. But, O vain man! to brag of that he never had.

Comorade

’Tis no brag, Lady, to confeſs he is forſaken.

Solid

It is a brag, for in that he implyes, he hath been beloved, for the one muſt be, before the other.

Comorade

Pray Madam, let me perſwade you, to entertain his love, he is a Gentleman who hath worth, perſon and wealth, all which he offers you, as to his Godeſſe, and a good offer is not to be refuſed, Lady, when it may lawfully be taken.

Solid

You ſay true, Sir, and could I perſwade my love, as eaſily as you can commend the man, ’tis likely I ſhould not refuſe him.

Comorade

But you will be thought cruel, to let a Gentleman dye, for want of your love.

Solid

Why, put the caſe I have other Lovers, as paſſionate, and worthy as he; how would you have me divide my ſelf amongſt them? Or can you tell 95 Bb2r 9995 tell me how to pleaſe them; I cannot marry them all, the Laws forbids it, and to be the common Miſtreſſe to them, all honour, and honeſty forbids it; for though there is ſome excuſe for men, who hath by cuſtom their liberty in amours, becauſe their amours obſtructs not nature, ſo makes no breach of honeſty; but women are not only barr’d by nature, but cuſtom of ſubjection, and modeſty of education; wherefore, if they ſhould take liberty to ſeveral Lovers, or loves courtſhips, they would not only diſhonour themſelves, and their whole Sex, and their living friends; but their diſhonour would outreach their Poſterity and run back to their Fore-fathers, that were dead long, long before they were born; for their unchaſte lives, would be as marks of diſgrace, and ſpots of infamie upon the Tombs of thoſe dead Anceſtors, and their aſhes would be ſull’d with their ſtains, whereas, a chaſt woman, and a gallant man, obliges both the living, and the dead; for they give honour to their dead Anceſtors in their Graves, and to thoſe friends that are living in the World, and to thoſe that ſhall ſucceed them; Beſides, their examples of their vertues, for all Ages to take out patterns from.

Comorade

Madam, you have anſwered ſo well, for your ſelf, and Sex, as I can ſay no more in the behalf of my friend.

Ex.

Scene 20.

Enter Madam la Mere, and Madamoſel Capriſia her daughter.

Mere

Daughter, your tongue is ſo ſharp, as it is not only poynted, but edged on both ſides.

Capriſ

Uſe, Mother, will blunt the poynt, and flat the edges.

Mere

No, Daughter, the more ’tis uſed, the ſharper it will be, for words and paſſions, are the whetſtones to that Razor.

Capriſ

As long as that Razor ſhaves no reputation, let it raze, or ſhave, what it will.

Ex.

Scene 21.

Enter Madamoſel Solid, Madamoſel Doltche, Madamoſel Volante, and a Grave Matron.

Matron

Madamoſel Solid, what ſay you to Monſieur Ralleries wit?

Solid

I ſay of him, as I would of a wild or skittiſh jade, who hath only ſtrength to kick and fling, but not to travel, or to bear any weight; ſo Rallerie, is antick poſtures, and laughing reproaches, not ſolid and judicious diſcourſes, or continued ſpeeches, the truth is, a ralleying wit, is like obſtructed, or corrupted lungs, which cauſes difficult, and ſhort breathing; So that wit, is ſhort and puffing, ſpurting out words, queſtions and replyes; ’tis ſquib wit, or boys ſport

Bb2 Matron. 96 Bb2v 10096

Matron

Madamoſel Doltche, what ſay you of Monſieur Satericals wit?

Doltche

As I would of froſty weather; his wit is ſharp, but wholeſome, and though he hath a frowning brow, yet he hath a clear ſoul.

Matron

Madamoſel Volante, What ſay you of Monſieur Pendants wit.

Volante

As I would of Leeches; for as Leeches ſucks bloud from the back parts of men, and ſpues it forth, when rubb’d with ſalt; ſo Monſieur Pendant sucks wit from other mens pens, and mouths, and then ſpues it forth again; being rubb’d with the itch of prayſe; But all the learned knows, the wit was no more his own, than the bloud that was ſuck’d, was the Leeches.

Matron

What ſay you of Monſieur Lyricks wit?

Volante

As I would of a Bird, that chirps more than ſings.

Matron

Madamoſel Doltche, What ſay you of Monſieur Tragedians wit?

Doltche

As I would of Winter, wherein is more rain than Sun-ſhines, more ſtorms than calms, more night than day; ſo his wit, hath more melancholly than mirth, cauſing, or producing tears, ſighs and ſadneſſe; the truth is, his wit dwels in the ſhades of death.

Matron

Madamoſel Solid, what ſay you to Monſieur Comicals wit?

Solid

As I would of the Spring, which revives, and refreſhes the life of every thing, it is lightſom and gay; So Monſieur Comicals wit is chearfull, pleaſant, lively, natural and profitable, as being edifying.

Ex.

Scene 22.

Enter Madam la Mere, and Madamoſel Capriſia, her Daughter.

M ere

Daughter, let me tell you, you have brought your Hogs to a fair Market.

Capriſ

That is better, than to keep them in a foul ſtye, Mother.

Mere

You cannot ſpeak without croſſing.

Capriſ

Nor readily croſſe without ſpeaking.

Mere

I am ſure, your bitter diſcourſes, and croſſe anſwers, hath cauſed the Lady, namely, the Lady Hercules, to ſend a rayling meſſage, by a Meſſenger, to declare her anger for your abuſive diſcourſes againſt her.

Capriſ

I never mentioned her in my diſcourſe, in my life.

Mere

But you ſpeak againſt big, and tall women.

Capriſ

I gave but my opinion of the ſize, and Sex, not of any particular, and I may ſpeak freely, my opinion of the generalities.

Mere

You may chance, by your opinion of the generalities, to be generally talk’d of.

Capriſ

Why, then I shall live in diſcourſe, although diſcourſe were dead in me, and who had not rather live, although an ill life, than dye?

Mere

But you might live ſo, as to gain every bodyes good opinion, if you would palliate your humour, and ſweeten your diſcourſe, and endeavour to pleaſe in converſation.

Capriſ 97 Cc1r 10197

Capriſ

Which do you mean, Mother! either to pleaſe my ſelf, or the company?

Mere

Why, the company.

Capriſ

That is impoſſible, for in all company, there is diverſities, and contrarieties of humours, paſſions, appetites, delights, pleaſures, opinions, judgements, wits, underſtandings, and the like, and for talking, ſpeaking and diſcourſing, they are inter-changing, inter-mixing, reaſoning, arguing, diſputing, which cauſes contradictions, wherefore to agree in, and to every humour, paſſion, opinion, and diſcourſe, is impoſſible; indeed one may ſeemly, or truly agree, and approve of any one opinion or diſcourſe; but not a diverſity of diſcourſes, opinions; alſo one may flatteringly applaud, or ſooth any particular perſons humour, but not diverſe perſons, diverſe humours, but to flatter, is baſe, as to approve in their words, and diſapprove in their thoughts, as to commend, or applaud that, or thoſe, that is not praiſeworthy: But howſoever, for the ſoothing of any bodies humour, I will never take the pains, for why ſhould I make my ſelf a ſlave to the ſeveral humours of mankind, who is never in one humour two minutes, and why may not I think, or deſire to be flattered, and humoured, as well as others, and when I am not flattered, and humoured, to be as much diſpleaſed at others, as others at me: Wherefore, good Mother, be not you diſpleaſed, that I choſe rather to diſpleaſe my ſelf, than any body elſe, beſides your ſelf.

Mere

You will follow your own wayes, Daughter.

Capriſ

I cannot walk ſafer, than in my own ground, Mother.

Ex.

Scene 23.

Enter Monſieur Perfection, and Madamoſel Solid.

SP oe lidrfection

Dear Miſtreſs, I fear my abſence hath made you forget me.

Solid

No certainly, I cannot forget you, by reaſon my brain is hung about with the memory of your worthy nature, and meritorious actions, which my love doth admire, and takes delight for to view each ſeveral piece and part.

Perfection

Do you love me?

Solid

How can I choſe but love, when in my infancy, ſuch a number of words, in your praiſe, was thrown into my ears, like ſeeds into the Earth, which took root in my heart, from which love ſprouted forth, and grew up with my years.

Perfection

And will you be conſtant?

Solid

As day is to the Sun!

Perfection

Do you ſpeak truth?

Solid

Truly, I have been bred up ſo much, and ſo long, in the wayes of truth, as I know no tract of diſſembling; and therefore, certainly, my words will ever keep within the compaſs of Truth, and my actions will alwaies turn, and run with that byas; but why do you ſeem to doubt, in making ſuch queſtions.

Perfection

I will truly confeſs, I have heard, that ſince I have been in the Countrey, you had entertained another Lover.

Cc Solid. 98 Cc1v 10298

Solid

It’s falſe, but falſe reports, is like breathing upon a pure and clear Glaſſe, it dimns it for a time; but that malicious breath, ſoon vaniſhes, and leaves no ſtain behind it; ſo I hope your jealouſie will do the like, it will vaniſh, and leave no doubt behind it.

Perfection

I hope you are not angry with me, for telling you, or for being my ſelf troubled, at what was reported.

Solid

No, for innocency is never concern’d, it alwayes lives in peace and quiet, having a ſatisfaction in it ſelf, wherefore reports only ſeizes on the guilty, arreſting them with an angry turbulency.

Perfection

But, perchance you may be angry for my jealouſie.

Solid

No, for jealouſie expreſſes love, as being affraid to loſe, what it deſires to keep.

Perfection

Then, I hope you do not repent the love you have placed on me.

Solid

Heaven may ſooner repent of doing good, than I repent my love and choyce.

Perfection

Dear Miſtreſs, my mind is ſo full of joy, ſince it is clear’d of ſuſpition, and aſſured of your love, as my thoughts doth fly about my brain, like birds in Sun-ſhine weather.

Ex.

Scene 24.

Enter Monſieur Nobiliſſimo, and Madamoſel Doltche.

Nobiliſſimo.

Sweet Lady, will you give me leave to be your Servant!

Doltche

I wiſh I were a Miſtreſs worthy of your ſervice.

Nobiliſſ

There is no man ſhall admire more your beauty, and wit, nor be more diligent to your youth, nor ſhall honour your merits, and love your vertue more than I.

Doltche

Indeed, I had rather be honoured for my merit, than for my birth, for my breeding, than for my wealth, and I had rather be beloved for my vertue, than admired for my beauty; and I had rather be commended for my ſilence, than for my wit.

Nobiliſſimo

It were pity you ſhould bury your great wit in ſilence.

Doltche

My wit is according to my years, tender and young.

Nobiliſſimo

Your wit, Lady, may entertain the ſilver haired Sages.

Doltche

No ſurely, for neither my years, nor my wit, are arrived to that degree, as to make a good companion, having had neither the experience of time, nor practice of ſpeech; for I have been almoſt a mute hitherto, and a ſtranger to the World.

Nobiliſſimo

The W is wide, and to travel in it, is both dangerous and difficult; wherefore, you being young, ſhould take a guide, to protect and direct you, and there is no Guide nor Protector ſo honourable, and ſafe, as a Husband; what think you of marriage.

Doltche

Marriage, and my thoughts, live at that diſtance, as they ſeldom meet.

Nobiliſſimo

Why, I hope you have not made a vow, to live a ſingle life.

Doltche. 99 Cc2r 10399

Doltche

No, for the Lawes of Morality, and Divinity, are chains, which doth ſufficiently reſtrain mankind, and tyes him into a narrow compaſſe; and though I will not break thoſe chaining Laws, to get loſe, and ſo become lawleſs; yet I will not tye nature harder with vain opinions, and unneceſſary vows, than ſhe is tyed already.

Nobiliſſimo

You ſhall need no Tutour, for you cannot only inſtruct your ſelf, but teach others.

Doltche

Alas, my brain is like unplanted ground, and my words like wild fruits, or like unprofitable grain, that yields no nouriſhing food to the underſtanding; Wherefore, if I ſhould offer to ſpeak, my ſpeech muſt be to ask queſtions, not to give inſtructions.

Nobiliſſimo

Certainly, Lady, nature did ſtudy the architectour of your form, and drew from herſelf the pureſt extractions, for your mind, and your ſoul, the eſſence or ſpirits of thoſe extractions, or rather you appear to me, a miracle, ſomething above nature, to be ſo young and beautifull, and yet ſo vertuous, witty and wiſe, grac’d with ſuch civil behaviour; for many a grave beard, would have wagg’d with talking, leſſe ſenſe, with more words.

Doltche

Youth and age, is ſubject to errors, one for want of time to get experience, the other through long time, wherein they loſe their memory.

Nobiliſſimo

Pray let me get your affections, and then I ſhall not loſe my hopes of a vertuous Lady to my wife.

Ex.

Scene 25.

Enter Madamoſel Capriſia, and Monſieur Generoſity.

Generoſity

Lady, are you walking ſtudiouſly alone? may I not be thought rude, if I ſhould ask what your ſtudies are?

Capriſ

I am ſtudying, how ſome ſtudies for pain, ſome pleaſure, ſome dangers, ſome quarrels, ſome to be wicked, ſome to be learned, ſome to be ignorant, ſome to be fooliſh, ſome to be famous, but few to be wiſe.

Generoſity

Who ſtudies to be wicked?

Capriſ

Thieves, Murtherers, Adulterers, Lyers, and Extortioners.

Generoſity

Who ſtudies to be learned?

Capriſ

Linguiſts.

Generoſity

Who ſtudies to be ignorant?

Capriſ

Divines.

Generoſity

Who ſtudies quarrels?

Capriſ

Lawyers.

Generoſity

Who ſtudies dangers?

Capriſ

Souldiers.

Generoſity

Who ſtudies to be fools?

Capriſ

Buffoones.

Generoſity

Who ſtudies fame?

Capriſ

Poets.

Generoſity

Who ſtudies pleaſure?

Cc2 Capriſ. 100 Cc2v 104100

Capriſ

Epicures.

Generoſity

Who ſtudies pain?

Capriſ

Epicures.

Generoſity

Do Epicures ſtudy both for pain, and pleaſure?

Capriſ

Yes, for they that ſurfeit with pleaſutre, muſt endure pain; and Epicures ſtudies the height of pleaſure, which no ſooner injoyed, but pain follows.

Generoſity

Who ſtudies to be wiſe?

Capriſ

They that ſtudy Temperance, Prudence, Fortitude and Juſtice.

Generoſity

And what ſtudy you?

Capriſ

I ſtudy how I may avoid the company of mankind, alſo to be quit of your Lordſhips preſence.

He alone. She goeth out.

Generoſity

She is ſo handſome, no humour can ill become her.

Ex.

Scene 26.

Enter Monſieur Profeſſion, and Monſieur Comorade.

Comorade

Thom. Give me leave to rejoyce with thee, for the reſurrection of thy heart, that was kill’d with thy Miſtreſſes cruelty, and buried in her conſtancy.

Profeſſion

Well, well? make your ſelf merry.

Comorade

But prethee, in what plight is thy heart? I doubt it is lean, weak and pale, and in a puling condition, lying in the Grave of thy Miſtreſſes inconſtancy.

Profeſſion

Faith, I cannot tell; the good Angel that brought it to life, can give a better account of it, than I can.

Comorade

Where ſhall I ſeek this good Angel? amongſt the effeminate or maſculine Sex: For I ſuppoſe, it is an Angel that is of one Sex, although I have heard, Angels are of neither Sex; but prethee, of which ſhall I inquire.

Profeſſion

Of the divine Sex, and the divineſt of her Sex.

Comorade

You may as well bid me inquire of that which is not to be found, for every particular man that is a Servant to any particular of theſe angelical creatures, will prefer his own Miſtreſs, to be the divineſt, and ſo the moſt abſoluteſt.

Profeſſion

All men that ſees my Miſtreſſe, and doth not adore her, as the only She, is damned in ignorance, and condemned to perpetual blindneſſe.

Comorade

Say you ſo, then I will not ſee her, for fear that I ſhould be one of the damned, and therefore I will give over that deſign, as the ſearch of her, and go to a Tavern, and drink the good health of thy heart, and leave the inquiry after it, and if you will go with me, ſo.

Profeſſion

I cannot, without the breach of gratitude, deny thy kindneſſe; wherefore, I will bear thee company.

Ex.
Scene 101 Dd1r 105101

Scene 27.

Enter Doctor Freedom, and Madamoſel Doltche, Madamoſel Solid, Madamoſel Volante.

Solid

O, you are welcome, Doctor Freedom.

Doctor

If I be not welcome now, I ſhall never be welcome.

Volante

Why, Doctor? what preſent have you brought us? that can make you ſo acceptable, is it perpetual youth, or undeniable beauty, or everlasting life? But prethee, Doctor, what is it that will make thee ſo welcome?

Doctor

Why, my ſelf; here being ſo many young Ladies together, and not a man amongſt them.

Volante

Thy ſelf, Doctor! why, thou art not worth the dregs of an Urinal, of a ſick water, if it were not for our charity, and generoſity, more than thy merit, ability or ſervice, you would have but a cold entertainment, and a rude welcome.

Doctor

Well, my young, wity, ſaterycal Patient, you will take a ſurfeit of fruit, milk, puddings, pyes, or ſweet-meats, one of theſe dayes, and then you will flatter me.

Volante

You ſay right, Doctor; but now I ſpeak truth, and is not that better than to flatter, or diſſemble; For there is none but ſick, and deprav’d ſouls, that will deliver Truth with a quarter, half, or three quartred face, like Merchants, or mechanick, that would ſell off their ill commodities, with a broken light, but a noble and healthfull ſoul, ſhews the full face of Truth, in a clear light; wherefore, the ſick and baſe, will flatter, but the noble and free, will ſpeak truth.

Doctor

Well, I am ſure you think better of me in your thoughts, than your words expreſſes.

Volante

Let me tell you, my words and thoughts, are ſo well acquainted, as they never diſſemble, and there is ſuch a friendſhip betwixt them, as they never move ſeveral wayes, but runs even together: But let me tell thee, Doctor, I have ſuch a ſpleen to thy Sex, as I deſire to kill them, at leaſt, to wound them with ſpitefull words; and I wiſh I had beauty enough for to damn them, cauſing them to be purjured, by forſaking other women, they were bound by ſacred vows, and holy bonds.

Enter Monſieur Diſcretion.

Diſcretion

It is well, Maſter Doctor, that you can be priviledg’d amongſt the young Ladyes, at all times, when ſuch as I, that have not your Profeſſion, are oftentimes ſhut, and lockt out.

Doctor

Faith, if you have no better entertainment, than I have had ſince I came, it were better you were from them, than with them, for their tongues are as ſharp as needles.

Volante

’Tis a ſign we want work, when we are forc’d to ſtitch our wit upon you.

Diſcretion

How dare you anger the Doctor, when your life lyes upon his skill.

Dd Volante. 102 Dd1v 106102

Volante

O! His skill lyes upon chance, and it is a chance, whether he kills, or cures, is it not, Doctor?

Doctor

No, for I can kill my Patients, when I will, although not cure them, when I will.

Volante

Well, then, Doctor, when I would dye, I will ſend for you, but not when I would live.

Diſcretion

Your Servant, Ladies.

Monſieur Diſcretion goeth out.

Doctor

Good Lady Wit, follow Monſieur Diſcretion, he will make you a wiſe Lady, and make your wit diſcreet, as it ſhould be.

Volante

O Doctor! how you miſtake, for wit cannot be made, it is a Creator, and not a Creature; for wit was the firſt Maſter, or Miſtreſs of Arts; the firſt Husband-man, Granger, Gardiner, Carver, Painter, Graver, Caſter and Moulder, Maſon, Joyner, Smith, Braſier, Glazier, the firſt Chandler, Vintener, Brewer, Baker, Cook, Confectioner, the firſt Spinſter, Weaver, Knitter, Tayler, Shoo-maker, and millions the like; alſo wit was the firſt Navigator, Architector, Mathematician, Logitian, Geometrician, Coſmografir, Aſtronomer, Aſtrologer, Philoſopher, Poet, Hiſtorian and Hearold; alſo wit made the firſt Common-wealth, invented Laws for Peace, Arms for Wars, Ceremonies for State and Religion; alſo muſick, dancing, dreſſing, masking, playing for delight and pleaſure; wit divides time, imployes time, prevents time, and provides for time; it makes Heavens, and Hells, Gods and Divels.

Doctor

Well, go thy wayes, for though thou haſt a heavenly mind, and an angelical beauty, yet thou haſt a deviliſh wit,

Volante

It ſhall be ſure to torment thee, Doctor, but do you hear, Doctor? pray preſent my ſervice to Monſieur Diſcretion, and tell him, it was a ſigne he lik’d not our company, he made ſo ſhort a ſtay.

Doctor

He perceived by your uſage of me, that if he ſtayd, you would beat him out of your company, with your two edged tongues; but I will tell him what a Rallery you are.

Volante

I hope you will give me a good report, for I have fully charged you.

Doctor

You have over-charged me, and therefore it is likely I ſhall break into exclamations.

Ex.
Act 103 Dd2r 107103

Act IV.

Scene 28.

Enter Monſieur Importunate, and Madamoſel Capriſia.

Importunate

Lady, if I may not be your Husband, pray let there be a friendſhip between us?

Capriſ

What kind of friendſhip would you make? for there are ſo many, and of ſuch different natures, as I know not which you would be; as ſome friendſhip is made by beauty, ſome by flattery, ſome by luxurie, ſome by factions, others by knavery, and all for intereſt.

Importunate

None for love?

Capriſ

No, but ſome are made by luſt, but they laſt not long.

Importunate

And is there no friendſhip made by vertue?

Capriſ

O no, for vertue may walk all the World over, and meet never a friend, which is the cauſe ſhe lives alone; for all the World thinks her too rigid for Society, which makes mankind adhere to her enemie vice.

Importunate

Doth not marriage make a friendſhip?

Capriſ

Very ſeldom, for marriage is like a Common-wealth, which is a contract of bodyes, or rather a contract of intereſt, not a friendſhip betwixt ſouls, and there is as much Faction, and oftener civil Wars in marriage, than in publick Common-wealths.

Importunate

I deſire our friendſhip may be Platonick.

Capriſ

That is too dangerous, for it oftimes proves a Traytor to Chaſtity.

Ex.

Scene 29.

Enter Monſieur Nobiliſſimo, Madamoſel Doltche, and her Nurſe.

Nurſe

Sir, you muſt give me leave to chide you, for ſtaying ſo long with my Nurſe-child, as you keep her from her dinner, either go away, or ſtay and dine with her.

Nobiliſſimo

Good Nurſe, be patient, for though I am engaged to dine with other company; yet her diſcourſe is ſuch charming muſick, as I have not power to go from her, as yet.

Doltche

If my diſcourſe ſounds muſical, ’tis only when you are by, but when you are abſent, the ſtrings of my voice, or ſpeech, is as if they were broken, for then my tongue is out of Tune, and my wit is out of humour.

Nobiliſſimo

My deareſt and ſweeteſt Miſtreſs, may your merits be rewardedDd2 ded 104 Dd2v 108104 ded by Fame, your vertue by Heaven, your life by Nature, and all your earthly deſires by Fortune.

Doltche

And my love by the return of yours.

Nobiliſſimo

When I forſake you, may Hell take my ſoul, and Divels torment it for ingratitude and perjury.

Ex.

Scene 30.

Enter Madamoſel Volante, and a Grave Matron.

Matron

Madamoſel Doltche ſeems to be a very fine, ſweet Lady, well- behav’d, ſober, modeſt, diſcreet, and of a gentle nature.

Volante

Moſt commonly, every one ſeems beſt at the firſt ſight, by reaſon they put on their civileſt demeanors, gracefulleſt garbs, modeſteſt countenance, and ſpeaks their moſt choyceſt phraſes, or words, when they meet ſtrangers; all which, makes them appear to their advantage, when after acquaintance, they will ſeem but vulgar, as when they are uſed to their ordinary garbs, countenances and phraſes, and that their natures and diſpoſitions were known, they will appear to be no better than their Neighbours; nay, perchance not ſo good; the like will Madamoſel Doltche appear to you.

Matron

I do ſuppoſe ſhe looks more familiar on her acquaintance, than ſtrangers, and it is likely, ſhe looks more grave, and ſober on ſtrangers, than on her known friends, and familiars; yet thoſe ſeveral looks and countenances, may be as pleaſing, and obliging, the one, as the other; for though the countenance and behaviour, is to be ordered according to the ſeveral degrees or relations of ſeveral perſons, and to ſeveral perſons, and to ſeveral ſexes, or according to their condition, ſtate, life and fortune, and according to the times and occaſions; for women are, or ſhould be, more free and confident to, and in the company of women, than men; and men are more reſpectfull in their diſcourſe and behaviour to women, than to their own Sex, and a merry countenance in a ſad condition or ſtate of life or fortunes, would not be ſeemly; mirth in the houſe of mourning, would be inhumane, or to dance or ſing over the Graves of their Parents, Children, Husbands, Wives or Friends, would be unnatural, or to be merry in the time of a general calamity, as in time of Wars, Plagues, or Famine, or Deluges, or to be ſad or froward in a general rejoycing; but a ſad countenance, and a grave behaviour, is as fitting, and ſeems comely and handſome in a time of calamity, as a merry countenance, and a dancing behaviour, in a time of rejoycing; for tears becomes the face, ſometimes, as well as ſmiles, and bluſhing may appear and expreſſe a modeſt nature to ſtrangers, when to familiar acquaintantances, bluſhing might be thought an accuſer, or witneſſe of ſome crime, yet baſhfull eyes at all times, becomes modeſt Virgins.

Volante

I hate baſhfull eyes; for they are like to troubled waters, thick and unſteady, rouling from place to place, without an aſſurance; for modeſt Virgins may look upon the World with a confident brow, if they have no guilt to ſtain their cheeks with bluſhes, and ſurely amongſt well-bred perſons, there 105 Ee1r 109105 there is none ſo rude, injurious, or uncivil, to force the bloud to riſe, or ſtop the light, in cauſing baſhfull eyes, but ſuch as condemns a confident countenance in Virgins faces; my eye of underſtanding will caſt a deſpiſing glance on ſuch ridiculous fools, and the tongue of reaſon condemns them.

Ex.

Scene 31.

Enter Madam la Mere, and Madamoſel Capriſia her daughter.

M ere

I wonder, Daughter, you ſhould be ſo rudely uncivil to Monſieur Generoſity, to uſe him ſo unkindly, as to entertain him with ſcornfull words, and diſreſpectfull behaviour.

Capriſ

Why did he come to viſit me?

Mere

To offer his ſervice, and to profeſſe his affection to your perſon and vertue.

Capriſ

I care not for his ſervice, or affection.

Mere

But he is a perſon of an honourable Title, and can make you a great Lady.

Capriſ

Give me leave to tell you, Mother, that nature hath given me Titles of Honour, Wit and Beauty, to which all men will bow to, with reſpect; Titles from Kings, poor petty things to thoſe.

Mere

But Daughter, let me tell you, that wit and beauty, without modeſty, civility and vertuous courteſie, may inſnare facile fools, and allure fond perſons, but not perſwade the judicious to eſteem you, nor the conſtant to ſue to you, nor true love to deſire you; you may have vain Boaſters, and amorous Flatterers to court you; but none that is wiſe, or honourable, will marry you, and to uſe this Noble Lord ſo diſreſpectfully, who is indued with vertue, and adorned with the graces, and beloved of the Muſes, is a crime unpardonable.

Capriſ

Mother, the Muſes and the Graces are Witches, which enchants the ſoul, and charms the Spirits, and makes the Senſes extravagant, and the actions deſperate.

Mere

Methinks they ſhould charm you; if they have ſuch power.

Capriſ

My humour is a Spell againſt all ſuch charms.

Ex.
Ee Scene 106 Ee1v 110106

Scene 32.

Enter Monſieur Profeſſion, and Monſieur Comorade his Friend.

Comorade

You are well met, for I was going to your lodging to ſee you.

Profeſſion

And I am now going home, and therefore let us go together.

Comorade

Where have you been?

Profeſſion

At a houſe you often reſort to.

Comorade

What, at a Bawdy-houſe?

Profeſſion

Yes.

Comorade

Why, how durſt you venture?

Profeſſion

Why?

Comorade

Why! why if your angelical Miſtreſſe ſhould come to hear of it; Faith, ſhe would bury your heart again.

Profeſſion

Yes, if it were not out of her power.

Comorade

Why, hath ſhe not the Poſſeſſion?

Profeſſion

No faith.

Comorade

How comes that to paſſe?

Profeſſion

I know not how, but upon ſome diſlike, it grew weary, and by ſome opportunity, it found it ſtole home, and ſince it hath promiſed never to leave me again; for it hath confeſſed to me, it hath been moſt miſerably tormented with doubts, fears, jealouſies and deſpairs.

Comorade

Prethee let me tell thee, as a friend, that thy heart, is a falſe lying heart, for there inhabits no torments amongſt angelical bodies.

Profeſſion

By your favour, in Plutoes Court, there be Angels as well, and as many as in Joves; But let me tell you, that if I did not love you very well, I would call you to an account, for calling my heart, a falſe lying heart.

Comorade

Prethee pacifie thy ſelf, for I am ſure I have had but a heartleſs friend of thee, all the time of thy heats abſence, and if I ſhould rayle of thy heart, thou haſt no reaſon to condemn me; but prethee, tell me, had not thy heart ſome pleaſure ſometimes to mitigate the torments?

Profeſſion

No faith, for my heart tells me, that what with rigid vertue, cruel ſcorn, and inſulting pride, it never had a minutes pleaſure, nor ſo much as a moment of eaſe; and if that there were no more hopes of happineſs amongſt the Gods in Heaven, than there is amongſt the Goddeſſes on Earth, it would never deſire to go to them, or dwell amongſt them: Nay, my heart ſays, it ſhould be as much affraid to go to Heaven, and to be with the Gods, as mortals are to go to Hell, to be with Divels.

Comorade

But if pleaſure, and happineſs, is not to be found with vertue, nor with the Gods, where ſhall we ſeek for it.

Profeſſion

I will tell you what my heart ſaith, and doth aſſure me; that is, that pleaſure lives alwaies with vice, and that good fellowſhip is amongſt the damned, and it doth ſwear, it is a moſt melancholly life, to live with thoſe that are called the bleſſed, which are the Goddeſſes on Earth.

Comorade

Why, then let us return to the houſe from whence you came.

Profeſſion

No faith, I am dry, wherefore I will go to a Tavern.

Comorade

Content.

Ex.
Scene 107 Ee2r 111107

Scene 33.

Enter Madamoſel Capriſia alone, in a ſtudeous humour, walking for a time ſilently; then ſpeaks.

Capriſ

Which ſhall I complain of? Nature or Education; I am compaſſionate by nature; for though I am froward, I am not cruel, I am pious by education; for though I am froward, I am not wicked, I am vertuous by nature, and education; for though I am froward, I am neither diſhoneſt, unchaſte, baſe, or unworthy: Why then, ’tis Fortune I muſt complain of, for Fortune hath given me plenty, and plenty hath made me proud, and pride hath made me ſelf-conceited, ſelf-conceit hath bred diſdain, and diſdain ſcorn; So pride, diſdain, and ſcorn, makes me diſapprove all other creatures actions, or opinions, but my own; and this diſapproving is that which men calls croſs, pieviſh, and froward diſpoſition, being moſt commonly, accompanied with ſharp ſatyrical words, and angry frowns.

Theſe faults i’l conquer, wherereſoere they lye;

I’l rule my froward humour, or i’l dye

Ex.
Enter Madamoſel Solid, and a Matron.

Solid

Lord! Lord! I wonder men and women ſhould ſpend their time ſo idley, and waſt their lives ſo vainly, in talking ſo ignorantly, and acting ſo fooliſhly upon the great Stage, or the Stage of the great World.

Matron

Why, how would you have them ſpend their time, or talk, or act?

Solid

I would have them ſpend their time, to gain time, as to prevent or hinder times oblivion, and to ſpeak and act to that deſign,

―― That when their bodies dye,

Their Names and Fames, may live eternally.

Matron

But it is not in every mans, or womans power, to get fame, for ſome are made uncapable by nature, others are hindred by fortune, ſome are obſtructed by chance, others want time and opportunity, wealth, birth and education, and many that are pull’d back by envie, ſpite and malice.

Solid

What man or woman ſoever, that nature is liberal to, may eternalize themſelves; as for fortune, ſhe may hinder the active, the like may chance, envie, ſpite and malice, but cannot hinder the contemplative; the like may time and opportunity; but poor poverty and birth, can be no hindrance to natural wit, for natural wit, in a poor Cottage, may ſpin an afterlife, enter-weaving ſeveral colour’d fancies, and threeds of opinions, making fine and curious Tapeſtries to hang in the Chambers of fame, or wit may Ee2 cut 108 Ee2v 112108 cutand carve Images of imaginations, to place and ſet forth the Gardens of fame, making fountains of Poetry, that may run in ſmooth ſtreams of vetrſe, or wit may paint and penſel out ſome Copies, and various Pictures of Nature, with the penſels of Rhethorick on the grounds of Philoſophy, to hang in the Galleries of fame; Thus the Palaceſſes of fame may be furniſhed and adorn’d by the wit of a poor Cottager.

Ex.

Scene 35.

Enter Madamoſel Capriſia, alone.

Capriſ

Item, I am to be courteous, but not familiar; to be merry, but not wild; to be kind, but not wanton, to be friendly, but not intimate; to be ſociable, but not troubleſome; to be converſable, but not talkative; to look ſoberly, but not frowningly; to return anſwers civilly, to ask queſtions wiſely, to demand rights honeſtly, to argue rationally, and to maintain opinions probably: Theſe rules I will ſtrictly obſerve, and conſtantly practice.

Enter Monſieur Bon Compaignon.

Capriſ

Sir, I cry peccavi, and ask your pardon, for ſpeaking ſo unhandſomely of the effeminate Sex, when I was laſt in your company; for my indiſcretion made me forget, ſo as not to remember, that all men hath either Wives, Siſters, Daughters or Mothers: But truly, my diſcourſe proceeded neither from ſpite or malice, but from the conſideration of my own faults, which being ſo many, did bury the good graces of other women; for though I am vertuouſly honeſt, yet I am but rudely faſhion’d, and untoward for converſation; but though my diſcourſe had a triangular countenance, for it ſeem’d fooliſh, ſpitefull and wicked; yet pray, Sir, believe, the natural face, was a perfect, round, honeſt face.

Bon Compaignon

Lady, what faults ſoever, your Sex is guilty, your vertues will get their pardon, and your beauty will cover their blemiſhes.

Capriſ

I wiſh my indiſcretion had not diſcovered my froward imperfections, but I am ſorry, and ſhall hereafter endeavour to rectifie my errours.

Ex.

Scene 36.

Enter Monſieur Nobiliſſimo, and Nurſe.

Nobiliſſimo

Good Nurſe, where is my vertuous, ſweet Miſtreſſe?

Nurſe

In her chamber, Sir.

Nobiliſſimo

What is ſhe doing?

Nurſe

She is reading.

Nobiliſſimo

What Books doth ſhe read? are they Divinity, Morality, Philoſophy, Hiſtory or Poetry?

Nurſe 109 Ff1r 113

Nurſe

Sometimes her ſtudy is of one, and then of another; But now I think, her chief ſtudy, is you, wherein ſhe may read humanity.

Enter Madamoſel Doltche, and ſeeing Monſieur Nobiliſſimo with her Nurſe, ſtarts back, and then comes forth bluſhing.

Nurſe

Lord child! what makes you bluſh?

Doltche

Not crimes, but my bluſhing, is cauſed by a ſudden aſſault, or ſurpriſal meeting him; I did not expect to meet at this time, which raiſed up bluſhes in my face; for bluſhing is like the full and falling tide; for the bloud flows to the face, and from thence ebbes to the heart, as paſſions moves the mind;

And thoughts as waves, in curling folds do riſe,

And baſhfull eyes, are like the troubled skies.

Nobiliſſimo

Sweet Miſtreſs, crimes cannot ſtain your cheeks with bluſhes, but modeſty hath penſeld Roſes there, which ſeems as ſweet, as they look fair.

Doltche

I deſire my looks and countenance, may alwaies appear ſo, as they may never falſly accuſe me; and as I would not have my looks, or countenance, wrong my innocency, or deceive the Spectators, ſo I would not have my heart be ungratefull to bury your preſence in ſilence; Wherefore, I give you thanks, Sir, for the noble Preſent you ſent me to day.

Nobiliſſimo

I was affraid you would not have accepted of it.

Doltche

Truly, I ſhall refuſe no Preſent you ſhall ſend me, although it were uſhered with ſcorn, and attended with death.

Nobiliſſimo

My kind Miſtreſs, I ſhall never ſend you any Preſent, but what is uſhered by my love, attended by my ſervice, and preſented with the offer of my life.

Nurſe

Child, you are very free of kind words.

Doltche

And my deeds ſhall anſwer my words, if need requires; yet I am ſorry if my ſpeaking over-much, ſhould offend; but I choſe rather, to ſet boſſes of words on the ſenſe of my diſcourſe, although it obſcures the gloſſe of my ſpeech, than my love ſhould be buried in my ſilence.

Nobiliſſimo

Sweet Miſtreſſe, your loving expreſſions gives ſuch joy unto my heart, and ſuch delight unto my hearing, as my ſoul is inthron’d in happineſſe, and crown’d with tranquility.

Nurſe

Pray Heaven, you both may be as full of Love, Joy and Peace, when you are married, as you expreſs to have now; But let me tell you, young Lovers, that Hymen is a very temperate, and diſcreet Gentleman in love, I will aſſure you; neither doth he expreſſe himſelf in ſuch high poetical Raptures, for his diſcourſe is plain, and ordinary.

Nobiliſſimo

Nay, ſometimes his diſcourſe is extraordinary, as when he hath Wars; but Nurſe, thou art old, and the fire of love, if ever thou hadſt any, is put out by old Father Times extinguiſher.

Doltche

True love never dyes, nor can time put it out.

Nobiliſſimo

’Tis true, but Nurſe ſeems by her ſpeech, as if ſhe had never known true love; for true love, as it alwaies burns clear, ſo it alwaies flames high, far infinite is the fewel that feeds it.

Nurſe

Well, well? young Lovers, be not ſo confident, but let me adviſe Ff you 110 Ff1v 114 you to ballance reaſon on both ſides, with hopes, and doubts, and then the judgement will be ſteady.

Nobiliſſimo

But in the ſcales of love, Nurſe, nothing muſt be but confidence.

Nurſe

Yes, there muſt be temperance, or love will ſurfeit, and dye with exceſs.

Doltche

Love cannot ſurfeit, no more than ſouls with grace, or Saints of Heaven.

Ex.

Scene 37.

Enter Madamoſel Capriſia, alone.

Capriſ

My ſmiles ſhall be as Baits, my eyes as Angels, where every look ſhall be a hook to catch a heart; I’l teach my tongue ſuch art, to plant words on each heart, as they ſhall take deep root, from whence pure love ſhall ſpring; my lips ſhall be as flowery banks, whereon ſweet rhetorick grows, and cipherous fancy blows; from which banks, love ſhall wiſh to gather Poſies of kiſſes, where every ſingle kiſſe ſhall differ as Roſes, Pinks, Violets, Primroſes, and Daffidillies, and the breath therefrom, ſhall be as fragrant as the touch, ſoft thereon, and as the Sun doth heat the Earth, ſo ſhall my imbraces heat my Lovers thoughts with ſelf-conceit, which were before like water, frozen with a dejected and deſpairing cold. Hay ho!

Ex.

Act V.

Scene 38.

Enter Monſieur Profeſſion, and Madamoſel Solid.

Profeſſion

Dear Miſtreſs, you are the only She that is fit to be crown’d; the ſole Empreſſe of the World.

Solid

Let me tell you, Sir? I had rather be a ſingle Shepheardeſſe, than the ſole Empreſs of the World; for I would not be a Miſtreſs of ſo much power, to be as a Servant to ſo much trouble.

Profeſſion

But, put the caſe Alexander were alive, and would crown you Empreſs of the World, you would not refuſe that honour, but accept of it, for the ſake of renown.

Solid

Yes, I ſhould refuſe it, for if I could not get renown by my own merits, I ſhould wiſh to dye in Oblivion, for I care not; Nay, I deſpiſe ſuch honours 111 Ff2r 115111 honours and renowns, as comes by derivations, as being deriv’d from another, and not inherent in my ſelf, and it is a poor, and mean renown, that is gain’d or got, only by receiving a gift from a fellow-creature, who gives out of paſ ſion, appetite, partiality, vain-glory, or fear, and not for merit or worth- ſake; wherefore, no gifts but thoſe that comes from the Gods, or Nature, are to be eſteem’d, or received with thanks, but were to be refuſed, had man the power to choſe, or to deny.

Profeſſion

Sweet Miſtreſs, nature hath crown’d you with beauty and wit, and the Gods hath given you a noble ſoul.

Solid

I wiſh they had, for the Gods gifts are not like to mans, and natures crown is beyond the golden crown of Art, which are greater glories, than Power, Wealth, Title or Birth, or all the outward honours gain’d on Earth; but I deſire the Gods may crown my ſoul with reaſon and underſtanding; Heaven crown my mind with Temperance and Fortitude; Nature crown my body with Health and Strength, time crown my life with comely and diſcreet age; Death crown my ſeparation with peace and reſt; and Fame crown my memory with an everlaſting renown; thus may my creation be to a happy end.

Profeſſion

Gods, Fortune and Fates hath joyned to make me happy in your love, and that which will make me abſolutely happy, is, that I ſhall marry you, and imbrace you as my wife.

Solid

The abſolute happineſs is, when the Gods imbraces man with mercy, and kiſses him with love.

Ex.

Scene 39.

Enter Madamoſel Capriſia.

Capriſ

Hay, ho! who can love, and be wiſe? but why do I ſay ſo? For reaſon loves wiſely; ’tis only the miſtaken ſenſes that loves fooliſhly; indeed, the ſenſe doth not love, but fondly, and fooliſhly affects, for it, ’tis an humourſome and inconſtant appetite that proceeds from the body, and not that noble paſſion of true love which proceeds from the ſoul: But O! what a ridiculous humour am I fallen into, from a cholerick humour, into an amorous humour; Oh! I could tear my ſoul from my body, for having ſuch whining thoughts, and ſuch a mean, ſubmiſſive, croaching, feigning, flattering humour, and idle mind; a cholerick humour, is noble to this, for it is commanding, and ſeems of an heroick ſpirit; but to be amorous, is baſe, beaſtly, and of an inconſtant nature.

Oh! how apt is buſie life to go amiſſe,

What fooliſh humours in mans mind there is:

But O! The ſoul is far beyond the mind,

As much as man is from the beaſtly kind.

Ex.
Ff2 Scene 112 Ff2v 116112

Scene 40.

Enter Madamoſel Volante, and Doctor Freedom.

Doctor

Are you weary of your life? that you ſend me; for you ſaid, you would not ſend for me, untill you had a deſire to dye.

Volante

True, Doctor, and if you cannot cure me, kill me.

Doctor

In my conſcience, you have ſent for me to play the wanton.

Volante

Why, Doctor? If I do not infringe the rules and laws of modeſty, or civility, I cannot commit wanton faults.

Doctor

Yes faith, your tongue may play the wanton,

Volante

Indeed, Doctor, I had rather tell a wanton truth, than a modeſt lye.

Doctor

Well, what is your diſeaſe?

Volante

Nay, that you muſt gueſſe, I can only tell my pains.

Doctor

Where is your pain?

Volante

In my heart and head.

Doctor

Thoſe be dangerous parts, but after what manner are you pains?

Volante

On my heart there lyes a weight, as heavy as the World on Atlas ſhoulders; and from my melancholly mind, ariſes ſuch damps of doubts, as almoſt quenches out the fire of life, did not ſome hope, though weak, which blows with fainting breath, keep it alive, or rather puffs than blows, which intermitting motions, makes my pulſe unequal, and my bloud to ebbe and flow, as from my heart, unto my face; and from my face, unto my heart again; as for my head, it feels drouſie, and my ſpirits are dull; my thoughts uneaſily doth run, croſſing, and ſtriving to throw each other down; this cauſes broken ſleeps, and frightfull dreams, and when I awake at every noyſe, I ſtart with fears, my limbs doth ſhake.

Doctor

Why, this diſeaſe is love, wherefore I cannot cure you; for love no more than wit, can neither be temper’d, nor yet be rul’d, for love and wit, keeps neither moderate bounds, nor ſpares diet, but dyes moſt commonly of a ſurfeit.

Volante

O yes, diſcretion can cure both.

Doctor

Then ſend for Monſieur Diſcretion, and hear what he ſayes to you, for your diſeaſe is paſt my skil.

Volante

By your induſtry, Doctor, help may be found, in giving directions, and ordering the cordial.

Doctor

So I underſtand you would have my counſel what you ſhould do, and my induſtry to order, and get a meeting between Monſieur Diſcretion and you, and to make the match betwixt you.

Volante

You underſtand me right.

Doctor

Well, I will ſtudy the means, and trye if I can procure thee a man.

Volante

Good fortune be your guide.

Doctor

And Monſieur Diſcretion, your Husband,

Ex.
Scene 113 Gg1r 117113

Scene 41.

Enter Madamoſel Capriſia, alone.

Capriſ

Thoughts be at reſt, for ſince my love is honeſt, and the perſon I love worthy, I may love honourably, for he is not only learned with ſtudy, experienced with time and practice, but he is natures favourite, ſhe hath endued his ſoul with uncontrouled reaſon, his mind with noble thoughts, his heart with heroick generoſity, and his brain with a ſupream wit; Beſides, ſhe hath preſented his judgement and underſtanding, with ſuch a clear Proſpective-glaſſe of ſpeculations, and ſuch a Multiplying-glaſs of conceptions, as he ſeeth farther, and diſcerns more into natures works, than any man ſhe hath made before him.

She ſtops a little time, then ſpeaks.

But let me conſider? I have us’d this worthy Gentleman uncivilly, nay rudely, I have deſpiſed him; wherefore he cannot love me, for nature abhors neglect, and if he cannot love me in honeſty, he ought not to marry me, and if I be not his wife, for certain I ſhall dye for love, or live a moſt unhappy life, which is far worſe than death. Hay ho!

Enter Madam la Mere her Mother.

Mere

What, Daughter, ſick with love?

Capriſ

O, Mother? love is a Tyrant, which never lets the mind be at reſt, and the thoughts are the torments, and when the mind is tormented, the body is ſeldom in health.

Mere

Well, to eaſe you, I will go to this Lord Generoſity, and pray him to give you a viſit.

Capriſ

By no means, Mother, for I had rather dye with love, than live to be deſpiſed with ſcorn, for he will refuſe your deſires, or if he ſhould come, it would be but to expreſs his hate, or proudly triumph on my unhappy ſtate.

Madamoſel Capriſia goes out. Madamoſel Mere alone.

Mere

She is moſt deſperately in love, but I will endeavour to ſettle her mind.

Ex.

Scene 42.

Enter Doctor Freedom, and Madamoſel Volante.

Doctor

Am not I a good Doctor now, that hath got you a good Husband?

Volante

Nay, Doctor, he is but a Suiter, as yet.

Doctor

Why do not you woe upon the Stage, as the reſt of your Comorades doth?

Gg Volante. 114 Gg1v 118114

Volante

O fye, Doctor Diſcretion never whines out love in publick.

Doctor

So you love to be in private?

Volante

Why, Doctor, the pureſt love is moſt conceal’d, it lyes in the heart; and it warms it ſelf by its own fire.

Doctor

Take heed, for if you keep it too tenderly, and cloſe, it may chance to catch cold when it comes abroad.

Volante

True love ought to keep home, and not to goſſip abroad.

Enter a Servant-maid.

Servant-maid

Madam Monſieur Diſcretion is come to viſit you.

Volante

Come, Doctor, be a witneſſe of our contract?

Doctor

I had rather ſtay with your maid.

Volante

She hath not wit to entertain you.

Doctor

Nor none to anger me.

Volante

Pray come away, for no wiſe man is angry with wit.

Doctor

I perceive, if I do not go with you, that you will call me fool.

Ex.

Scene 43.

Enter Monſieur Comorade, and Monſieur Bon Compaignon.

Bon Compaignon

Comorade, what cauſe makes you ſo fine to day?

Comorade

I am going to two weddings to day.

Bon Compaignon

Faith, one had been enough; but how can you divide your ſelf betwixt two Bridals?

Comorade

I ſhall not need to divide my ſelf, ſince the Bridals keeps together; for they are marryed both in one Church, and by one Prieſt, and they feaſt in one houſe.

Bon Compaignon

And will they lye in one bed?

Comorade

No ſurely, they will have two beds, for fear each Bride-groom ſhould miſtake his Bride.

Bon Compaignon

Well, I wiſh the Bride-grooms, and their Brides joy, and their Gueſts, good chear.

Comorade

Will not you be one of the Gueſts?

Bon Compaignon

No, for a Bon Compaignon ſhuns Hymens Court, neither will Hymen entertain him: But who are the Brides and Bride-grooms?

Comorade

Monſieur Nobiliſſimo and Madamoſel Doltche, and Monſieur Perfection and Madamoſel Solid.

Bon Compaignon

Is Monſieur Profeſſion a Gueſt there.

Comorade

No, for he ſwears now, that he hates marriage, as he hates death.

Bon Compaignon

But he loves a Miſtreſs, as he loves life.

Ex.
Scene 115 Gg2r 119115

Scene 44.

Enter Monſieur Generoſity, and Madamoſel Capriſia; he following her.

Generoſity

Lady, why do you ſhun my company, in going from me, pray ſtay, and give my viſit a civil entertainment; for though I am not worthy of your affection, yet my love deſerves your civility.

Capriſ

I know you are come to laugh at me, which is ignobly done; for heroick, generous ſpirits, doth not triumph on the weak effeminate Sex.

Generoſity

Pray believe I am a Gentleman, for if I loved you not, yet I would never be rude, to be uncivil to you, or your Sex; But I love you ſo well, as when I leave to ſerve you with my life, may nature leave to nouriſh me, fortune leave to favour me, and Heaven leave to bleſſe me, and then let death caſt me into Hell, there to be tormented.

Capriſ

I am more obliged to your generous affections, than to my own merits.

Generoſity

The ill opinion of your ſelf doth not leſſen your vertues, and if you think me worthy to be your Husband, and will agree, we will go ſtrait to Church, and be marryed.

Capriſ

I ſhall not refuſe you.

Ex.

Finis.