Hh1r 121

Prologue.

The Poetress sayes, that if the Play be bad,

She’s very sorry, and could wish she had

A better plot, more wit and skill to make

A Play that might each several humour take;

But she sayes, if your humours are not fixt,

Or that they are extravagantly mixt;

Impossible a Play for to present

With such variety, and temperiment;

But some will think it tedious, or find fault,

Say the design or Language is stark naught;

Besides, the loose unsetled brains, she fears

Seeth with squint eyes, and hears with Asses ears;

But she is confident all in this round,

Their understandings clear, and judgements sound;

And if her Play deserves not praise, she knows

They’l neither scoff in words, nor preposterous shows:

Without disturbance, you will let it dye,

And in the Grave of silence let it lye.

Hh Youths
Hh1v 122

Youths Glory, and Deaths Banquet.

The First Part.

1. The Lord de L’amour.

2. Sir Thomas Father Love.

3. Master Comfort, Sir Thomas Father Loves Friend.

4. Master Charity, the Lord de L’amours Friend.

5. Adviser, the Lord de L’amours man.

6. A Justice of Peace.

1. The Queen Attention.

2. The Lady Incontinent, Mistriss to the Lord de L’amour.

3. The Lady Mother Love, wife to Sir Thomas Father Love.

4. The Lady Sanparelle, daughter to Sir Thomas Father, and Lady Mother Love.

5. The Lady Innocence, the affianced Mistriss or Wife to the Lord de L’amour.

6. Passive, the Lady Innocences maid.

7. Falshood, an informer to maids of the Lady Incontinent.

Physitians.

Natural Philosophers, Moral Philosophers, young Students.

Souldiers, Lovers, Mourners, Virgins, Servants and others.

Act
Hh2r 123

Act I.

Scene 1.

Enter Sir Thomas Father Love, and his wife, the Mother Lady Love.

Mother Love

Husband, you have a strange nature, that having
but one child, and never like to have more, and this
your childe a daughter; that you should breed her so
strictly, as to give her no time for recreation, nor no liberty
for company, nor freedom for conversation, but
keeps her as a Prisoner, and makes her a slave to her
book, and your tedious moral discourses, when other
children have Play-fellows, and toyes to sport and passe
their time withall.

Father Love

Good wife be content, doth not she play when she reads
books of Poetry, and can there be nobler, amiabler, finer, usefuller, and wiser
companions than the Sciences, or pleasanter Play-fellows than the Muses;
can she have freer conversation, than with wit, or more various recreations
than Scenes, Sonets and Poems; Tragical, Comical, and Musical, and the
like; Or have prettier toyes to sport withall, than fancie, and hath not she
liberty so many hours in the day, as children have to play in.

Mother Love

Do you call this playing? which sets her brain a working
to find out the conceits, when perchance there is none to find out, but
are cheats, and cozens the Readers with empty words, at best, it fills her head
but with strange phantasmes, disturbs her sleep with frightfull dreams of
transformed bodyes of Monsters, and ugly shaped vices of Hells and Furies,
and terrifying Gods of Wars and Battles, of long travels, and dangerous
escapes, and the pleasantest is but dark groves, gloomy fields, and the happiest
condition; but to walk idly about the Elizium fields; and thus you
breed your daughter, as if your Posterity were to be raised from a Poets
phantastical brain.

Father Love

I wish my Posterity may last but as long as Homers
lines.

Mother Love

Truly, it will be a fine airey brood! No no, I will have her
bred, as to make a good houswife, as to know how to order her Family,
breed her Children, govern her Servants, entertain her Neighbours, and to
fashion herself to all companies, times and places, and not to be mewed and
moped up, as she is from all the World, insomuch, as she never saw twenty
persons in one company in all her life, unless it be in pictures, which you
set her to stare on above an hour every day: Besides, what Father doth educate
their Daughters, that office belongs to me; but because you have never
a Son to tutor, therefore you will turn Cotquean, and teach your daughter,
which is my work.

Father Love

Let me tell you, Wife, that is the reason all women are
fools; for women breeding up women, one fool breeding up another, and
as long as that custom lasts there is no hopes of amendment, and ancient customsHh2stoms Hh2v124
being a second nature, makes folly hereditary in that Sex, by reason
their education is effeminate, and their times spent in pins, points and laces,
their study only vain fashions, which breeds prodigality, pride and envie.

Mother Love

What? would you have women bred up to swear, swagger,
gaming, drinking, Whoring, as most men are?

Father Love

No, Wife, I would have them bred in learned Schools, to
noble Arts and Sciences, as wise men are.

Mother Love

What Arts? to ride Horses, and fight Dewels.

Father Love

Yes, if it be to defend their Honour, Countrey and Religion;
For noble Arts makes not base Vices, nor is the cause of lewd actions,
nor is unseemly for any Sex; but baseness, vice and lewdnesse, invents unhandsome
and undecent Arts, which dishonours by the practice either
Sex.

Mother Love

Come, come, Husband, I will have her bred, as usually our
Sex is, and not after a new fashioned way, created out of a self-opinionated,
that you can alter nature by education: No, no, let me tell you, a woman
will be a woman, do what you can, and you may assoon create a new World,
as change a womans nature and disposition.

Enter the Lady Sanspareille, as to her Father, as not thinking her Mother
was there.

Sanspareille

O, Father! I have been in search of you, to ask you a question
concerning the Sun.

when she sees her Mother, she starts back.

Mother

What have you to do with the Sun, and lives in the shade of the
Worlds obscuritie.

Sansp

Why, Madam? where would you have me live? can I live in a
more serene aire, than in my Fathers house, or in a purer, or clearer light,
than in my Parents eyes, or more splendrous, than in my Parents company.

Mother

I would have you live at Court there, to have honour, favour and
grace; and not to lose your time ignorantly, knowing nothing of the World,
nor the World of you.

Sansp

Can I live with more honour, than with my Father, and You, or
have more favour than your loves; or is there a greater grace, than to be
Daughter of vertuous Parents; can I use, or imploy my time better, than to
obey my Parents commands? need I know more than honesty, modesty, civility
and duty: As for the World, mankind is so partial to each self, as they
have no faith on the worth of their Neighbour, neither doth they take notice
of a Stranger, but to be taken notice of.

Mother Love

Yes, yes, your beauty will attract eyes and ears, which are
the doors to let in good opinion, and admiration.

Sansp

Had I a tongue like a Cerces-wand to charm all ears that heard me,
it would straight transform men from civil Obligers, to spitefull Detracters,
or false Slanderers; my beauty may only serve but as a bribe to tempt men,
to intrap my youth, and to betray my innocency.

Mother

To betray a fools-head of your own! Lord! Lord! how the dispo- Ii1r125
dispositions of Youth is changed since I was young! for before I came to
your Age, I thought my Parents unnaturall, because they did not provide
me a Husband.

Sanspareille

If all youth were of my humour, their dispositions are changed
indeed; for Heaven knows, it is the only curse I fear, a Husband.

Mother Love

Why? then you think me curst in Marrying your Father.

Sansp

No Madam, you are blest, not only in being a Wife, (a condition
you desired) but being marryed to such a man that wishes could not hope
for.

Mother Love

Why then, my good Fortune may encourage you, and raise
a hope to get the like.

Sansp

O no! It rather drives me to dispair, beleiving there is no second.

Mother Love

Come, come, you are an unnaturall Child to flatter your
Father so much, and not me, when I endured great pains to breed, bear, and
nurse you up.

Sansp

I do not flatter, Madam, for I speak nothing but my thoughts, and
that which Love and duty doth allow, and truth approve of.

Father Love

Come, come Wife, the Jeerals wit will out-argue both
ours.

Ex.

Scene 2.

Enter the Lord de l’Amour, and the Lady incontinent.

Lady Incontinent

Have I left my Husband, who was rich, and used me
well? and all for love of you! and with you live as a Wanton! by
which I have lost my esteem, and my honest reputation, and now to be forsaken,
and cast aside, despised and scorned! O, most base! for what can be
more unworthy, than for a man to profess friendship to a Lady, and then
forsake her?

Lord de l’Amour

Madam, you do me wrong, for my heart is as firmly
yours, as ever it was, and burns with as clear a flame, as ever it did.

Lady Incontinent

It is not like it will continue so, since you now are resolved
to marry.

Lord de l’Amour

The reasons are so powerfull, that perswades me, by reason
there is none left of my Family besides my self; and my Fathers commands
so terrifying, and my vows so binding, as I know not how to
avoid it.

Lady Incontinent

But since your Father is dead, what need you fear his
commands, and for your vows, those may be dispenced with, for a summe of
money to the Church for the poor.

Lord de l’Amour

But would you have me cut off the line of my Posterity
by never marrying?

Lady Incontinent

Perchance, if you marry, you may have no children, or
your wife may prove barren, or if you have children, they may prove fools;
for she you are affianced to, is none of the wisest.

Ii Lord Ii1v 126

Lord de l’Amour

That is none of my fault.

Lady Incontinent

But why will you marry so soon?

Lord de l’Amour

I will not marry yet, for my affianced is young, and well
may stay two or three years.

Lady Incontinent

But if you will not marry her this two or three years,
why must she come to live with you in your house.

Lord de l’Amour

By reason her Father is newly dead, and hath left her to
my protection, as having right to her, and by her, to her estate.

Lady Incontinent

And when she comes, I must deliver up the rule and
government of your house and Family to her; for I suppose you will make
her the Mistriss to command, dispose and order as she pleaseth.

Lord de l’Amour

By no means, for you that are the Mistriss of my heart,
shall also be Mistriss of my Estate.

Lady Incontinent

Then pray give her to my charge and education; for I
hear she is of a high spirit, and a proud heart, being spoyled with self-will,
given her by the fondnesse of her Father.

Lord de l’Amour

Pray order her as you think good, she shall be your
hand-maid.

Exeunt

Scene 3.

Enter the Lady Sanspareille, repeating some verses of her own
making.

Sanspareille

Here flows a Sea, and there a fire doth flame,

Yet water and fire still is but the same:

Here the fixt earth, and there the aire streams out,

All of one matter moving round about;

And thus the earth, and water, fire and aire,

Out of each others shapes transformed are.

Enters her Mother, and hears her last verse.

Mother

I am sure you are transformed from what you should be, from a
sober, young maid, to a Stage-player, as to act Parts, speak Speeches, rehearse
Verses, sing Sonets, and the like,.

Sansp

Why, Madam; Stages and publick Theaters, were first ordained
and built, for the education of noble youth, where they might meet to practise
how to behave themselves civily, modestly, gently, comely, gracefully,
manly, and majestically; to speak properly, timely, fitly, eloquently, elegantly,
tunably, tonably, readily, sagely, wittily. Besides, Theators were not
only Schools to learn or practise in, but publick patterns to take example
from; Thus Theaters were profitable, both to the Actors and Spectators;
for as these Theaters were publick Schools, where noble principles were
taught, so it was the dressing rooms of vertue, where the Actors, as her Servants
did help to set her forth. Also these Theaters were as Scaffolds, whereon
vices were publickly executed; and, Madam, if you please but to consider,der, Ii2r127
you will perceive, that Thrones are but glorious Theaters, where Kings
and Princes, and their Courtiers acts their parts; likewise places of Judicature,
are but places where Judges and Lawyers acts their parts; Nay, even
Churches are but holy Theaters, where the Priest and People acts their devout
parts. But, Madam, you mistake, making no difference betwixt the
noble and base, the generous and mercenary; for, shall all noble persons that
fights dewels of honour, be call’d Fencers; or shall a King, when he runs
at the Ring, or Tilt, shall he be called a Jockey, or Post, when he rides horses
of Manage, shall he be a Quirry, or a Rider; or shall Kings, Princes or
noble Persons, that dances, sings, or playes on Musick, or presents themselves
in Masks, be thought, or called Dancers, or Fidlers, Morris-dancers, Stage-
players, or the like, as in their masking attire: No those are Riders, Fencers,
Dancers, Fidlers, Stage-players, and the like, that are mercenary, setting Vertuosus
to sale, making a mercenary profit, and living thereof; but if such opinions
should be held, then no Vertuosus should be learn’d of noble Persons,
because there are mercenary Tutours and Teachers, nor no arts understood,
because of Mechanicks, nor no Sciences understood, because of Pedants, nor
no manners, nor gracefull behaviours practised because of Players, nor none
must write, because of Clerks, nor none must pray because of beneficed
Priests, nor there must none understand the Laws, or plead their own causes,
because of feed Lawyers; if these opinions or rules were followed, all the
nobler and better sort, would be boars, clowns and fools, nor no civility, good
manners, nor vertues would be known amongst them.

Mother

Well, well, I will have you shew your self, and be known, and
I known by you; for why should not I be as ambitious to be praised in your
beauty, as your Father in your wit; but by that time you have gotten a sufficient
stock of wit to divulge to the World, your beauty will be dead and
buried, and so my ruines will have no restoration, or resurrection.

Sansp

Madam, I do humbly and dutifully acknowledge, that what beauty
or wit I have, it was derived from my Parents.

Mother

Wherefore you ought to do, as your Parents will have you, and
I say, I will have you be a Courtier.

Sansp

Would you have me go to live at the Court, Madam?

Mother

Yes marry would I.

Sansp

And to do as Courtiers do?

Mother

Yes marry would I.

Sansp

Alas, Madam, I am unpractised in their arts, and shall be lost in
their subtle and strange waies.

Mother

Therefore I would have you go to learn them, that you may be
as expert as the best of them, for I would have you shoot such sharp darts
thorough your eyes, as may wound the hardest and obduratest hearts.

Sansp

Amorous affections, Madam, and wanton glances are strangers to
my eyes and heart; neither can I perswade nor command them to be otherwise
than they are.

Mother

Why, I would not have you either wanton, or amorous, but to be
kind and civil, to invite a rich, noble Husband.

Sansp

Why, say I had the power to pick and choose amongst the noblest
and the richest men, a Husband out, you cannot promise me a happy
life, fortune may set a Crown of Diamonds on my head, yet prick
my heart with thorns, bind up my spirits with strong chained fears, my
thoughts imprisoned in dark melancholly, and thus my mind may prove Ii2a Hell Ii2v128
a Hell unto my life, and my Husbands actions devils to torment it.

Mother

No disputing, but let my will be obeyed.

Sansp

It is fit it should be by me, although it brings my ruine.

Lady Mother goes out. Sanspareille alone.

Sanspareille

Joy gave me wings, and made my spirits fly,

Hope gave me strength to set ambition high;

Fear makes me old, as paulsie shakes each limb,

My body weak, and both my eyes are dimb:

Like to a Ball, which rackets beats about,

So is my heart strucken twixt hope and doubt.

Ex.

Scene 4.

Enter the Lady Incontinent, and one of her women.

Lady Incontinent

I observe, the Lord de L’amour useth the Lady Innocence
with more respect than he was used to do; and I observe his eyes
meets her when she comes in place where he is, and follows her wheresoever
she goeth, and when she stands still, they are fixt upon her.

Woman

Truly she hath power, if she will put it in force to command a
heart, at least to perswade a heart to love her; for certainly, she is very beautifull,
if it were not obscured under a sad countenance, as the Sun behind a
dark cloud; but sometimes, do what she can in despite of her sadnesse, it
will keep out, and the other day when you were gone abroad, I saw her
dance, sing and play on a Gitturn, all at one time.

Lady Incontinent

And how did it become her?

Woman

Truly, she sung so sweetly, played so harmoniously, danced so
gracefully, and looked so beautifully, that if I had been a man, I should have
been in love with her.

Lady Incontinent

I charge you break her Gittar, tell her she sings not well,
and that her dancing doth ill-become her.

Woman

Perchance she will not believe me.

Lady Incontinent

Oh yes, for youth are credulous, even against themselves.

Exeunt. Act
Kk1r 129

Act II.

Scene 5.

Enter the Lady Sanspareille, and walks a turn or two, as contemplating.

Sanspareille

Ambitious thoughts flyes high, yet never tires,

Wing’d with the swiftest thoughts of desires;

Then thoughts of hopes runs busily about,

Yet oft are stop’d with thoughts of fear and doubt,

And thoughts of mirth and melancholly strives,

All thoughts are restless till the body dyes.

Enter Sir Father Love.

Father Love

My childe, it is a sign you are melancholly, that you are in a
poetical vain.

She weeps.

Father

Why do you weep?

Sansp

Melancholly thoughts makes tears to flow thorough my eyes.

Father

Melancholly! why, thou art not come to the years of melancholly;
’tis aged brows on which sad Saturn sets, and tired thoughts on which
he reigns, and on grieved heart his heavy taxes layes; but those that are
young, he leaves to other powers, neither hath fortune set her turning foot
upon thy head, for thou art in the same worldly condition that thou wert
born to; wherefore thy mind may be quiet, and thy thoughts merry and
free.

Sansp

Surely, sir, it is not alwaies age, nor yet cross fortunes that clouds
the mind, for some are old and mean, poor and despised, yet merry, and humours
gay, and some are young and fairer, and rich, and well esteemed, honoured
and loved, and yet their thoughts dejectedly doth move, and humour
dull as lead; ’tis nature makes melancholly, neither age nor evil fortune
brings it.

Father

But what makes thee sad, my child?

Sansp

Ambition, Sir.

Father

What doth your ambition aim at? If it be honour, I have an Estate
will buy thee an honourable Husband; if it be riches, I will be saving,
and live thriftily, if it be gallantry, or bravery, I will maintain thee at the hight
of my fortune, wear Frieze my self, and adorn thee in Diamonds, Silver and
Gold.

Sanspareille

Heaven forbid! that my vanity should prodigally spend your
Estate, or my covetousnesse pinch and starve your Life, or that my pride
should be match’d with noble honour, which should be as humble as
great.

Father

It cannot be for wit and beauty, for, surely nature hath made her
self poor, by giving you so much.

Kk Sansp. Kk1v 130

Sansp

My dear Father, know it is fame I covet, for which were the ambitions
of Alexander and sar joyned into one mind, mine doth exceed them,
as far as theirs exceeded humble spirits, my mind being restless to get the
highest place in Fames high Tower; and I had rather fall in the adventure,
than never try to climb; wherefore, it is not titled Honour, nor Wealth,
nor Bravery, nor Beauty, nor Wit that I covet, but as they do contribute to
adorn merit, which merit is the only foundation whereon is built a glorious
fame, where noble actions is the architectour thereof, which makes me despairingly
melancholly, having not a sufficient stock of merit, or if I had,
yet no waies to advance it; but I must dye like beasts, forgotten of mankind,
and be buried in Oblivions grave.

Father

If it be fame my child covets, it is a noble ambition; and Heaven
pardon me, if I speak vain-gloriously of what is my own, yet I speak but my
opinion, when I say, I do believe there is none so fit to raise a fame, as thou
art.

Sansp

Sir, your love speaks, as willing to incourage me; but know Sir;
it is not a vulgar fame I covet, for those that goeth with equal space, and even
hights, are soon lost, as in a crowd or multitude; but when fame is inthron’d,
all Ages gazes at it, and being thus supremely plac’d up high; Like as an Idol,
gets Idolatry
: Thus singularity as well as merit, advances fame.

Father

Child, thou speakest alwaies reason, and were my life the only
singular way to raise thy fame, thou shouldst have it.

Sansp

Heaven forbid! For that would raise my infamie, if I should build
upon my Fathers noble life. But, Sir, do you love me?

Father

Yes, above my life! for thou art the life of my life!

Sansp

Do you love me as well as you think you could your Grand-children?

Father

No comparison can be made, for thou art come immediately
from my loynes, those but from the loines of my Issue, which is estranged
from me, and for their affections, Grand-childrens is but weak, only they
keep alive my name, not love, for that dyes in the second descent, and many
times the first.

Sansp

But, Sir; would not you think me strangely unnatural, and unworthy
of your love, to wish or desire you to break the line of your Posterity,
and bury succession in my grave?

Father

Unnatural! no, for your vertue can ask nothing of me, that my
love will think unreasonable to give, and for my Posterity, I had rather it
should end with merit, than run on in follies; or who knows but their evil
or base actions may blemish all their Predecessours; besides, it is with succession,
as with a married pair; for if the wife be chast, the World will give
the honour only to the woman, but if she be false, the World will lay the
disgrace on the Husband, and think she sees some defect, which makes her
prefer another before him. So in succession, if their succession proves fools,
cowards, avaricious, treacherous, vitious, or the like, the World straight judges
these imperfections and vices were in hereditarie, and that they were attaint,
or stained from the root or stock, but if they prove wise, valiant, generous,
just, or the like, they think they were particular gifts of nature, or education,
thus the faults of succession many descents after, may darken like black clouds,
the bright light of their Predecessours worth and merit; Besides, there is no
certainty of a continued line, nor doth many children give an assurance to
their Father at the day of his death; for when he dyes, doubts closes his eyes, Kk2r131
eyes, and fears blowes out lifes fire, therefore I had rather live in thy fame,
than live or dye in an infamous and foolish succession.

Sansp

Heaven make me thankfull that my desires and my fathers approvement
agrees. Sir, you have not only bred me with a tender love, but
with a prudent Industry. And I have followed your instruction with a Religious
Ceremony. Keept to your principles with a pious Conscience, and
since nature and education hath joyned together in my tender years, to make
my life propitious; If fortune favour me, and opportunity promote me;
but we are to consider which way I shall steer the course of my life, and if
you will please I will tell you how I have designed my voyage.

Father

Heaven prosper the through it, and send the a safe passage, wheresoever
thou adventurest.

Sansp

Then first, it is to be considered, I am but a small and weak vessell,
and cannot swim upon the rough and boysterous Seas, which are pitcht
fields, and fighting Armyes, wherein I shall be shattered in the croud, and
drowned in the confusion of disorder, wherefore I must swim in the calm
rivers of peace where their is no such storms, nor high billows, only some
cross winds may chance to rise, which may hinder me but not drown me;
this calm river is a Theater, and the rough Sea as I said a pitcht field; my
self the ship, you the steeradg, and fame the port, then thus I will relate how
I have designed the voyage of my life; first never to marry, if I may have
your consent to live a single life, for that time which will be lost in a married
condition, I will study and work with my own thoughts, and what new Inventions
they can find out, or what probabilityes they conceive, or phancies
they create, I will publish to the world in print before I make them common
by discourse, but if I marry, although I should have time for my thoughts
and contemplations, yet perchance my Husband will not approve of my
works, were they never so worthy, and by no perswasion, or reason allow of
there publishing; as if it were unlawfull, or against nature, for Women to
have wit. And strives allwayes if their wives have wit, to obscure it. And I
am of that opinion, that some men are so inconsiderately wise, gravely foolish
and lowly base, as they had rather be thought Cuckolds, than their wives
should be thought wits, for fear the world should think their wife the wiser
of the two; and that she rules, and governs all the affairs at home; for
most men, rather than they will not shew their power, and Authority, will
appear a Quar-queen, that is an effeminate scold. Secondly, I will not receive,
nor give private vissits, or entertainments; but from those, and to those, that
duty, and gratitude and loyalty enjoyns me; for in private visits, or entertainments,
is onely so much time stuft with senceless, vain, idle, light discourses,
or flattering compliments, wherein time and life is unprofitably lost.
Thirdly, I would never speak but in publick, for if nature, and education,
have given me wit, I would not willingly bury it in private discourses; besides,
privat hearers are secret Thieves, and boldly steals, having no witnesses, to
betray, or reveale the truth, or divuldge their thefts; and so they will adorn
their discourses with my wit, which they steal from me. Fourthly, I will never
speak of any considerable matter, or subject, or of any new conception;
but I will have them ready writ to print them, so soon as my discourse of
them is past, or else print them before I discourse of them; and afterwards
explain them by my tongue, as well as by my pen, least they should mistake
the sence of my workes, through Ignorance; for those subjects that are only
discourst off, in speach, flyes away in words; which vanisheth as smoak, or Kk2 shadows, Kk2v 132
shadows, and the memory or remembrance of the Author, or Oratour, melts
away as oyle, leaving no sign in present life, or else moulders as dust, leaving
no Monument to after-posterity, to be known or remembred by; when writeing,
or printing, fixes it to everlasting time, to the publick view of the World;
besides, a passing discourse makes the tongue, but as an Almner, to give wit
to poor Sharkes to feed them; which Sharkes eats, without giving praise or
thankes, never acknowledging at whose cost they live at: Nay, so unthankfull
they are, that they will bely the Authors and themselves; saying, it was
their own; and it is a certain rule, that those Authors they steal most from,
they will dispraise, and rale most at: And some are so foolish, and of such
short memoryes, that they will repeat the Authors wit, to the Authors self;
and as confident, as it had been created, or invented, out of their own brains.
Fifthly, I will select times, for several discourses and subjects, to discourse in
publick, to several Audiences; to which, you may, if you please, invite the
grave and wise, to hear me, and being a woman Oratour, the singularity will
advance my fame the more; besides, many accidents may we chance
to meet, which may prove as steps to ascend, or Mount up. Thus Sir, if you
please to approve of my design, I shall follow the means, or wayes unto it;
if not, I shall submit to what you shall think will be better for me.

Father

I do approve of your design so well, as I cannot but admire it.
And I believe the best designer that ever was, never cast such a mould, or laid
such a plot, or drew such a draught, to raise a fame on; or to work a fame
out.

Sansp

But Sir, you must arm your selfe against all oppositions, and Baracodo
your ears against all cross perswaders; and muster your forces of
hopes, drawing them into a body of confidence, and march with a resolution,
either to dye in the adventure, or to triumph with victory, and to live everlastingly,
in a glorious fame; for Sir, we shall meet wranglers, and jesters,
scorners, and scoffers, disputers, and opposers, contradictors and lyers; which
envy and malice will bring against us, but consider Sir, that when the foot of
fame hath trod upon the tongue of envy, it will be silent.

Father

Never fear me child, if thou faintest not.

Sansp

I fear not my self, for I have an undoubted faith, that the Child of
such a father can neither be a Coward, nor a fool; for from you I receive a
value or prize, although of my self I should be worth nothing; and Parents
and Children may speak freely their thoughts, let them move which way they
will, for Children ought not to conceal them; but if deceit must be used:
let it be with strangers not friends.

Father

O Child! thou hast spoke but what I thought on, and the very
same I wisht; finding thy tongue volable, thy voyce tuneable, thy speech
eloquent, thy wit quick, thy expressions easy, thy conceits and conceptions
new, thy fancies curious and fine, thy Inventions subtle, thy dispositions
sweet and gentle, thy behaviour gracefull, thy countenance modest, thy person
beautifull, thy yeares young; all this I thought to my self might raise the
a Trophy, when a Husband would bury the in his armes; and so thou to
become thy own fames Tomb.

Sansp

Oh! But how shall we pacify my mother, who is resolved not to
be quiet, untill I go to live at the Court; as likewise to marry.

Father

I have thought of that, and you know that your mother is well
bred, a tender mother and a chast wife; yet she is violent, and is not to be
altered from her opinions, humours, and will, till time wearyes her out of them Ll1r 133
them, wherefore we must not oppose her; but rather sooth her in her humour,
and for marrying, we will allwayes find some fault in the man, or his Estate,
person or breeding, or his huumour, or his wit, prudence, temperance,
courage, or conduct, or the like, which we may truly do without dissembling;
for I believe there is no man, but that some exceptions may be justly
found to speak against him; but you and I will sit in Councel about it.

Ex.

Scene 6.

Enter the Lord de l’Amour, and meets the Lady Innocence.

Lord de l’Amour

Well met, for if accident had not befriended me, you
would not have been so kind as to have met me; for I percieve you strived
to shun me.

Lady Innocence

The reason is, I was affraid my presence would not be
acceptable.

Lord de l’Amour

You never stay to try whether it would or not, but surely
if your conversation be answerable to your beauty, your Company cannot but
be pleasing.

Lady Innocence

I doubt I am to young to be hansome, for time hath not
shapt me yet into a perfect form, for nature hath but laid the draught, & mixt
the collours, for time to work with, which he as yet hath neither placed, nor
drawn them right, so that beauty in me is not as yet fully finished; and as
my beauty, so I doubt my wit, is imperfect, and the ignorance of youth makes
a discord in discourse, being not so experiencedly learned, nor artificially practised,
as to speak harmoniously, where the want makes my conversation dull
with circumspection and fear; which makes my wordes flow through my
lips, like lead, heavy and slow.

Lord de l’Amour

Thy wit sounds as thy beauty appears, the one charms
the eares, the other attracts the eyes.

Lady Innocence

You have been more bountifull to me in your praises, than
Nature in her gifts.

Lord de l’Amour

Since I perceive you to be so pleasing, we will be better
acquainted.

Ex. Ll Scene 7.
Ll1v 134

Scene 7.

Enter 2. or 3. Philosophers. This Scene of the
Phylosophers the
Lord Marquess
writ.

1. Philosopher

Come my learned brothers, are we
come now to hear a girle to read lectures of naturall
Philosophy to teach us? Are all our studyes come to this?

2. Philosopher

Her doting father is to blame, he should
be punished for this great affront, to us that’s learned men.

3. Philosopher

Philosophers should be men of yeares, with grave and Auster
lookes, whose countenances should like rigid lawes affright men from
vanityes; with long wise beards, sprinkled with gray, that every hair might
teach, the bare young Chins for to obey. And every sentence to be delivered
like the Law, in flames and lightning, and flashes with great thunder, a
foolish girle to offer for to read: O times! O manners!

1. Philosopher

Beauty and favour and tender years, a female which nature
hath denyed hair on her Chin, so smooth her brow, as not to admit one
Philosophycall wrinckle, and she to teach, a Monster tis in Nature; since Nature
hath denyed that sex that fortitude of brain.

2. Philosopher

Counsel her father that her mother may instruct her in
high huswifry, as milking Kyne, as making Cheese, Churning Butter, and
raising past, and to preserve confectionary, and to teach her the use of her
needle, and to get her a Husband; and then to practise naturall Philosophy
without a Lecture.

3. Philosopher

’Tis a prodigious thing, a girle to read Philosophy; O divine
Plato! how thy Soul will now be troubled, Diogenes repents his Tub, and
Seneca will burn his bookes in anger. And old Aristotle wish he had never
been the master of all Schooles, now to be taught, and by a girle.

1. Philosopher

Have patience and but hear her, and then we shall have
matter store to speak and write against her, and to pull down her fame; indeed
her very lecture will disgrace her more than we can write, and be revenged
thus by her tongue.

2. Philosopher

Content, let us then go and hear her, for our sport, not be
ing worth our anger.

Ex. Here ends the Lord Marquess of Newcastle. Act
Ll2r 135

Act III.

Scene 8.

Enter the Lady Innocence, and her Maid.

Maid

By my truth Mistriss the Lord de l’Amour is a fine person.

Lady Innocence

The truth is, that he seems as if Nature had given
to time the finest and richest stuff in her Shop, to make his person off, and
time as the Tayler hath wrought and shapt his person into the most becoming
fashion; but yet, if his Soul be not answerable to his person, he is fine no
otherwayes; but as a fashionable and gay sute of Cloath on a deformed body,
the Cloathes may be fine and hansome, but the body ill favoured; so the body
may be hansome, but the Soul a foul deformed creature.

Maid

But a fine and hansome body may hide a deformed Soul, although
a fine sute of Clothes will not hide a deformed body; for a deformed body
will be perceived in dispight of the fine Clothes.

Lady Innocence

So will a deformed Soul in the dispight of a hansome body,
for the Soul will appear in the Actions, as the body in the shape; being as
crooked in vice as the body in Limbs.

Maid

What is the actions of the Soul?

Lady Innocence

The passions and will.

Maid

But man obscures the passions and restrains the will.

Lady Innocence

So man may obscure his body, and bombast his Cloathes;
but it is as impossible to restrain an evill will, as to make a crooked body
straight.

Ex.

Scene 9.

Enter Sir Thomas Father Love, bringing in the Auditours into a
large roome, nobly furnished, where at one end or side is a place
raised and railed with guilt rayles; for the Lady Sanspareille
to stand on.

Father Love

Gentlemen, pray do not think me rude by drawing you
from your serious studies, by an intruding invitation; to hear a young
student discourse.

1. Philosopher

’Tis true Sir, we should have been glad to have heard you
discourse, for you might instruct us, where as a young student is rather to be
instructed; for it is time that brings knowledg or gets wit, or speakes eloquently.

Father Love

’Tis true, but yet in some naturall ingenuity it is as strong as
time, and produceth that which time of it selfe could not do.

Ll2 2. Philoso- Ll2v 136

2. Philosopher

Sir, if your young students wit, be as fine as her standing
place, it will be delightfull.

3. Philosopher

Sir, you have adorned her Theater to inthrone her wit.

Father

Gentlemen. I wish her wit may furnish, and so adorn your understanding,
but if you please to sit, such as it is, shall be presented to you.

Being all placed, the Lady Sanspereille enters upon the mounted place, drest all
in black; fit for the gravity of the Company.
The Company upon her entrance seems to be struck with amaze of her
beauty, they speak to her Father.

1. Philosopher

Sir, we perceive now, you have invited us to feast our eyes,
not our eares.

Father

Gentlemen, if you please to give her so much patience to hear her,
then judge, or censure, as you please.

Then they all cry Whist, Whist. After the Lady by her Civill bows had given respect to all the Company, with
a modest and amiable Countenance, with a gentle and well pleased eye,
and a gracefull and winning behaviour, thus speaks.

Lady Sanspareile

The Majesty of Age, and sage gravity, are objects able
to put unexperienced and unpracticed youth out of Countenance; and bashfullness
is the greatest enemy to discourse, for it discomposes the Countenance,
disturbes the thoughts, disorders the words, and confounds the sence
therein; but youth hath many times this advantage, that it apprehends not
the disgrace, that experienced years and deeper judgment doth; For the
truth is, bashfullness proceeds from too great an apprehension; but I not apprehending
far enough, may comit errours through a confident ignorance, but if
you think my confidence too much, for my youth; yet pray judge not my
modesty to litle for my Sex, for speaking belongs as much to the Female Sex
as to the Masculine; so as it be on sober Subjects, and to grave Fathers, and
wise men, or intruth to any degree of Age, or Sex, or Birth; so as it be timely,
suitably, rationably, and modestly delivered; And why may not women speak
in publick and to publick assemblies, as well as in privat visits, and particular
entertainments, and to particular persons and acquaintance? And in reason it
should be more commendable, that womens discourse and actions are such, as
they fear no witness. Nay, they ought never to speak or shew themselves
to those persons that are not domestick, without sufficient witness, for privat
discourses, which are like whisperings, and secret meetings, and particular entertainments,
are subject to loos customs, rude behaviours, and lascivious discourses,
mischievous designes, and dangerous plots, all which takes leave
without warrant, and assaults without warning; yet it is probable this Auditory
will think my Father is too indulgent to his Child, to let her to make
publick Orations, or that he is too vain glorious, as to believe or hope his
Child may get applause, or esteem in the world, by her discourses. But First,
I must remember them, that it is naturall for Parents to be fond of their
Children; Secondly, it is no crime nor indiscretion, for a Father to believe
or think his Child may have as much wit as any other mans Child, if he have
given as good education: Thirdly, it is not against nature and reason, but that Mm1r 137
that women may discourse of several subjects as well as men, and that they
may have as probable opinions, and as profitable inventions, as fresh fancies,
as quick wits, and as easy expressions, as men; if their education be answerable
to their naturall capacityes and ingenuityes; As for my selfe, I must tell
this assembly, I have been bred industriously, for I have been instructed with
as much knowledg as my yeares was capable to understand; but the truth is,
that my educatours strove to ripen my understanding, before the naturall time,
like those that hastens fruit to be ripe, forcing it by artificiall means, not
staying for the naturall heat of the Sun, so was my understanding, like as the
tree, and my wit as the fruit, by which it wants the Aromaticall, and delicious
relish, that naturall time gives; which makes me fear, my wit will relish to
the eares of the hearers, as such forced fruits to the tast of the eaters: I have
only this request, that, though you may dislike it for want of the naturall
sweetness; yet pray esteem of it for the rarity, as being not usuall for one of
my years and Sex, to speak, argue, and make Orations in a publick assembly;
but it is likely, this assembly may think this is a vain glorious Prologue, to my
following discourse; But I must tell this worthy, grave, and learned, assembly,
that I am not bound to follow a vain custome, nay, I may say, a dishonest
one, as when Oratours do dissemble, as on my Conscience most do, selfe love
being naturall to all; besides, many times they disgrace their birth, by a dissembling
humbleness, and bely their thoughts, knowledge and education,
when as they say, they are unworthy to speak to such an assembly; and that
they are unlearned, their knowledg is little, their understanding dull, their
judgment weak; their capacity narrow, and that they are unexperienced and
unfurnished of expressions, to deliver the subject, or matter of their discourse;
if this or the like which they say be true, they abuse the Auditory, and themselves,
to invite them or draw them, to hear that, they think is not worth the
listening to, and if they be not so (as they say) they bely the nature, and education,
which heaven forbid I should be so ungratefull to nature, so base to
my birth, so undutifull to my Educatour, and so unthankfull to the Gods.
No, no, I will not be so, for I will publickly acknowledg natures favours, who
hath given me more wit, than time hath given me yeares; she hath furnished
me with ingenuity, beyond an ordinary proportion, and hath drawn the
plat form of my mind Mathematically, and pensiled me with her best coullourd
dyes, for which I am bound morally to serve her; As for my birth, as I
am of the same kind of Mankind; I am equall with the rest, let my condition
be never so poor, I have no reason to be ashamed of the Kind; but my
birth is Honourable by length of time, as for my education, it hath been singular,
having not been bred as other Children accustomarilie are, who hath
liberty to fling away their youthfull time in idle sports, or useless learnings,
and those that they are taught by, are young and unexperienced Tutours; but
I must tell this worthy and experienced assembly, that I was not bred with
powdered Curles, but silver hairs, Age, I bowed to, and obeyed with duty,
Age, I viewed with respects, and listened to with attention; Age, directed
my senses, manured my brain; pulled up, or out, the rootes of ignorance,
and weedes of errours, sowed knowledg, and planted understanding; for, my
educatour, which was my dear Father, hath been industrious, carefull, prudent,
bountifull, and studious, for my improvement; for which my treble duty
doth attend his life, and my prayers supplicates for to prolong it, which heaven
knows, I desire beyond my own; As for the Gods which gives all good,
let those that dare be unthankfull, I dare not, such as Atheists that believes in Mm none; Mm1v 138
none; but pardon me for intruding one your patiences, with a tedious and
self discourse, although I could not well avoid it, but now, with your leave,
most Noble Auditours, I shall first treat of Nature, although Nature is an endless
Theam to treat of; for though that the principles of Nature, or Natures
principles may be easily numbred, yet the varietyes which change doth make
on those principles are infinite; for well may Nature, if man by Art can
make infinite varietyes, by change of few principles, as for example in musick,
from 8. Notes, by change, infinite Tunes, are, or can be made; from the figure
of 1. to 9. what Multiplication? From 24. letters, how far can the mind
dictate it self in, numerous words, and different languages? Thus Nature
the tutress to man, and onely man, have taught him to imitate her; for,
though she is the Mother to all other Creatures, yet man is her beloved
Child; for she, like as a fond parent, leads and directs man to discoveryes,
and as it were, points and markes out their wayes, and as a diligent Tutress,
explains and expounds her selfe by her works, and her several works, like as
several books hath several prints, and are bound in several vollums, and are
keept safe in several Libraryes, of several Ages, by aged time; but sometimes
Nature behaves her selfe like a Huntress, and makes Mankind as her
Hounds, to hunt out the hidden effects of unknown causes, leading Mankind
by three several strings, as by the string of observation, the string of conception,
and the string of experience, and as hounds snuffs and snuffels on the
Paths they tread, so mans thoughts, like as hounds noses, are busily imployed.
And as hounds springs out upon a following sent, and with open mouth
makes a loud cry; so men, when they make any new discoveryes, divulges it
with their voyces, or noyses of the tongue and pen; yet man at this hath no
reason to take exceptions, because he gaineth knowledg thereby, and Nature
may use her own as she pleases; but sometimes Nature is as a Paintress, and
the mind of man is as the Copy of Nature, drawn by her selfe; for the mind
of man is as infinite as Natures selfe, having no dimension, nor extension,
and the thoughts are the infinite Creatures therein, and the brain is the ground
to paint on, and the motions of life are the pensills to work, or draw with.
And in these Copyes Nature views her selfe, yet all animal Creatures, especially
Mankind, seems of a middle mixture, as, not so gross as the Earth, nor
so pure as the Heavens, which is the cause man is difficult to some things, and
easy to others; as it is easyer for the eyes to look down on the earth, than to
stare up to the Heavens, and for the feet to step down on steps, than to step up
on stayres, or for the whole body to slyde down a hill, than to clamber up a
hill, so it is easier for life to slyde down to vice, than to mount up to virtue,
for what is purest is still placed highest, that is the reason that the Cœlestiall
bodyes are placed over us, as the Terrestriall body under us; and we being
mixt, are placed in the midst: Upon this text give me leave to treat of the
two Globes, the Cœlestiall, and the Terrestriall, in the Cœlestiall, there are Seven
Worlds, where the Sun is the Center World, which being a flame,
streams forth in lynes of light, upon the other Six Worlds; and as those Six
Worlds, or the Seventh World, moves, so have they light or darkness; but
the Sun which is the flaming World, or the World of flame, is fed as a
Lamp with an oyly substance, from the other Six Worlds, which oyly substance
the Sun sucks to him, from thence, by attracting Motions, these Six
Worlds I will similize to Six Udders, paps, or breasts, from which the Sun,
like as a young greedy appetite sucks, and draws out, each in their turns, and
as I said by attraction, this oyly moisture, which oyly moisture is as the milk, Mm2r 139
milk; the Worldly Udders, or Uddery Worlds, doth as all Udders doth,
which as soon as they are drawn dry fills again, and if they be not sufficiently
drawn; their moisture grows thick and gross; like as crudled milk, which
corrupts and becomes Ulcerous, from whence runs venemous matter, which
falling down breeds amongst animals, many diseases as the rot murring, and
the like amongst beasts; And amongst men the Smale pox, measels, and all
sorts of feavers, even to the plague, & according as the corruptions are, or runs,
the diseases are more dangerous, or less violenter, or weaker, lasts longer, or
ends sooner; and if these Udders be drawn faster than they can be naturally
filed, they become chopt and dry, empty and shrunk, which causeth dearth
and famine; And though we cannot see a dearth in the face of the Moon;
and the rest of the Planets, as on the face of the Earth, nor see famine in the
face of the Moon, as in the face of a Man; yet for all we know, there may
be dearths, plagues, and warres in those Planets, as in particular Kingdoms;
although the Planets have no such Intelligences from each other, as particular
Kingdoms hath; yet questionless they have Traffick and Commerce, though
mankind cannot visibly perceive, which way, or by what means. Also the
Planets, by their circular motions, may draw up vapours from the Sea, and
earth, like as the Wheels of water Mils. As for the Terrestriall globe, it turns
upon a Pole, as a Pig upon a Spit, and the Sun is the fire that rosts it; but
when the Sun is scorching hot, the earth like overroasted meat, is burnt and
black, and when that over cold moist vapers, quenches out the heat of these
firy beams, then is the earth as raw; but when as equall heat, at equall distance,
by equall Motions, agrees Simpathetically, then is the Terrestriall globe
well drest, and full of gravy, which causes nurishing health; but to draw to
a conclusion of my Philosophicall lecture, I wil similize the Cœlestiall, and
Terrestriall globes, which globes, are as Man and Wife; the Cœlestiall as the
Husband, the Terrestriall as the Wife, which breeds and bears, what the Cœlestiall
begets, For the Cœlestiall and the Terrestriall globes are Natures working
houses, where, Animals, Vegetables, and Minerals, are wrought into several
figures, shapt, and formed into divers fashions, like as Smiths makes
diverse fashioned things out of mettals, so Nature is as the Smith, the Earth
as the mettal, the Sun as the fire, the Sea as the quenching water, the aire as
the Bellows, youth is the Furnace, time is the Forge, and motion is the Hammer,
both to shape, and break assunder; but for fear I should break your
patience, I shall desist from speaking any more at this time.

After a modest and humble respective bow to the assembly. She goeth out. The whilst the Audience holds up their hands in admiration.

1. Philosopher

Now you have heard her, what do you say?

2. Philosopher

I say let us go home and make a funerall This written by my
Lord Marquess.

pile of our bookes, that are Philosophy, burn them to
Ashes, that none may rise as Phenix like out of that dust.

3. Philosopher

No, throw them at those foolish men that walk in black,
who would be thought learned by the outside; although they are unlettered.

4. Philosopher

Take heed of that, for so they may have hopes of a resurrection,
and so rise again in ragged covers, and tattered torn sheets, in old
Duck-lane, and quack their to be bought.

Mm2 1. Phi- Mm2v 140

1. Philosopher

No, no, we will all now send for Barbers, and in our great
Philosophies despair, shave of our reverend beards, as excrements, which once
did make us all esteemed as wise, and stuff boyes foot-balls with them.

2. Philosopher

Nature, thou dost us wrong, and art too prodigall to the
effeminate Sex; but I forgive thee, for thou art a she, dame Nature thou
art; but never shewed thy malice untill now, what shall we do?

3. Philosopher

Faith all turn gallants, spend our time in vanity and sin, get
Hawks and Hounds, and running Horses, study the Card and Dye, Rich
Cloathes and Feathers, wast our time away with what this man said, or what
that man answered, backbite and raile at all those that are absent, and then
renownce it with new Oathes Alamode.

4. Philosopher

No, no, honour this Virgin whose wit is supreme, whose
judgment is Serene as is the Sky, whose life is a Law unto her selfe and us,
virtue her handmaid, and her words so sweet, like to harmonious musick in
the Aire, that charms our Senses and delights the Soul, and turns all passions
in our hearts to love, teaches the aged, and instructs the youth, no Sophister,
but Mistriss still of truth.

Ex. Here ends my Lord Marquisses.

Scene 10.

Enter the Lord de l’Amour, and the Lady Innocence.

Lord de l’Amour

I begin to be so fond of your Company, as I cannot be
long absent therefrom.

Lady Innocence

.’Tis your favours to me, which favours are above my
merits, indeed I have no merits, but what your favour creates.

Lord de l’Amour

You seem so virtuous, and sweetly dispositioned, and
are so beautifull and witty, as I cannot but admire, and love you.

Lady Innocence

I dare not be so rude, nor yet so ungratefull, to speak against
my selfe, now you have praised me, for your words are like to Kings, which
makes all currant coyn they set their stamp on; although the substance
should be mean and of no value.

Lord de l’Amour

Thy words are Musicall.

Lady Innocence

I wish I could speak as eloquently upon every subject, as
several birds sings sweetly in several Tunes, to please you.

Lord de l’Amour

Do you love me so well, as to wish it onely for my
sake.

Lady Innocence

Yes, and how should I do otherwise, for my affections to
you was ingrafted into the root of my infancy, by my Fathers instructions
and perswasions; which hath grown up with my Age.

The Lady Incontinent peeps in, and sees them together, (speaks to her selfe)
in the mean time they seem to whisper.

Lady Incontinent

Are you both so serious in discourse, I will break your
friendship, or I will fall to the grave of death in the attempt.

Lady Incontinent goes out. Lord de l’Amour. Nn1r 141

Lord de l’Amour

Heaven make you as virtuous as loving, and I shall be
happy in a Wife.

Lord de l’Amour goes out. Lady Innocence alone.

Lady Innocence

Heaven make him as constant, as I virtuous, and I shall
be sure of a gallant man to my Husband.

Ex.

Act IV.

Scene 11.

Enter the Lady Sanspareille, and takes her place, her Father, and
her Audience about her, being all Morall Philosophers.
When she had done her respects speaks.

Sansp

By my fathers relation to me, I understand, that all this worthy Assembly,
are students in morality; wherefore I shall treat this time of passions,
wherein I make no question, being all sage, that you have not only
learnt to distinguish them, but have practiced, how to temper, and govern
them; but perchance you will say to your selves, what need she speak of
that, which have been so often treated of, only to make repetitions of former
Authors; but you all know without my telling you, that new applications
may be made, on often preached Texts, and new arguments may be drawn
from old principles, and new experiences may be learnt from former follies;
but howsoever, my discourse shall not be very long, least tedious impertinencies
should make it unpleasant to your eares, & cause too great a loss of time,
to your better imployments; but my discourse is, as I said on the passions,
which I will first divide, as the Ancient Philosophers, into two, love, and hate,
First, I will treat of pure love, which is self-love, for love to all other things
is but the effects thereof. And is derived therefrom, self-love is the sole passion
of the Soul, it is a passion pure in it self, being unmixt, although all other
passions do attend it, this passion, called self-love, is the legitimated Child of
Nature, being bred in infinite, and born in eternity; yet this passion of self-
love, being the Mother of all other love is oftentimes mistaken for a fond,
or a facile disposition, bred from a weak constitution of the body, or a strong,
or rather extravagant appetite of the Senses; or from a gross constitution,
or evill habit, or custome of life, or an ill example of breeding; but these
Childish humours, facile, and easy dispositions, foolish and earnest desires,
gross, and greedy appetites, Inconstant, and evill Natures, these are not pure
love, as the effects of self-love, for it doth it self hurt; but they are the effects
of the body, and not of the Soul, for some of them proceeds from a gross
strength of body, hot, and active spirits, others from a tenderness, and weakness
of body, and faint spirits; but the true passions of love, which is self-love,
but mistake me not, for when I say self-love, I mean all such love, as is appertainingNn taining Nn1v 142
thereto, as love of honour, love of virtue, humane love, naturall love,
pious love, Sympatheticall love, which are the true begotten Children of
self-love; This love, hath no other object, but perfection, it hath an absolute
command over life, it conquers death, and triumphs over torments, but every
soul hath not this pure love, for there is a seeming self-love, and a reall self-
love; but as I said, every soul hath it not, for it is with souls, and the passions
therein, as with bodyes, and the sensuall life, some bodyes are more
healthfull, and strong, others infirm and weak, some are fair, and well favoured,
others foul and ill favoured, some are straight & well shapt, others crooked
and deformed, some high, some low, some are of long life, others of short
life, some lifes have more actions than others, some more sensitive relishes,
than others, some good Natures, some bad, and all of that sort of Animals, we
call mankind, and as the body and sensitive Spirits, so for the Soul and rationall
Spirits, for some hath (as I may say) more Soul than others, as some hath larger
Souls than others, some purer than others, as being more Serene; & some hath
more ingenuity, and understanding than others. So passions, although one and
the same sorts of passions, yet in some Souls, they are more Serene, and elevated
than others; but many times the pure passions of the Soul is so allyed,
with the gross humours of the body, as they become base, and of no good
use; but in the passion of pure love, for the most part, dwels naturally Melancholly:
I mean, not that dry, cold, sharp humour, bred in the body, which
makes it Insipid, inclosing the Soul, (as it were,) within Walls of stone,
which causeth a dull, heavy, and stupid disposition, as it oppresseth, and lyes,
like a heavy burthen on the Soul, hindering the active effects thereof; but
this naturall Melancholly, dwells not in every Soul, but onely in the noblest;
for it is the noblest effect, of the noblest passion, in the noblest Soul. As for
the passion of hate, it is not that lothing, or aversion, which is caused by a
full, or sick Stomack, or surfetted Senses, or glutted Appetites, or cross humours,
or an Antipathy of dispositions, or evill fortunes, or the like; but the
true passion of hate, is, in the Soul, not bred in the body; yet hate is a bastard
passion of self-love, begot by opposition, bred from corruption, and born
with disturbance, this hate as it is derived, from the bowels, and loynes of
self-love, so it pursues self-loves enemyes, which is suspect falshood, and neglect:
With this passion of hate, anger is a great Companion; these two passions
being seldome assunder; but anger is oftentimes mistaken, as all the
rest of the passions are, but this passion of anger, is one of the uselest passions
of the Soul, and is so far from assisting fortitude, as many think it doth; as it
is an opposite enemy to it, for it cannot suffer patiently, and oftimes knows
not what it Acts, or on what it Acts, or when it Acts; this passion is one of
the furyes of the Soul, which oftimes deposes reason; but a Chollerick disposition,
is sooner to be pardoned, and less to be feard, being bred in the body,
and as the humour ebbes, and flowes, this disposition is less, or more. But to
return to the two Principle passions, which is love, and hate; I will at this
time similize them, to two several Kingdoms, or Regions, love being the largest,
for it reaches to the shades of death, and strongest, for it can indure, and
hold out the assaults of any torment, being intrenched with fidelity, fortified
with constancy, imbatled with courage, victualled with patience, and armed,
or manned with resolution; and were it not for the many labyrinths
of fears, running in and out, with continuall doubts, wherein, the content
of the mind, is oftentimes lost, otherwayes it would be as pleasant a
Kingdome, as it is a strong3–4 wordsobscuredp:pcaton.xzcof honour, and Land- Skips Nn2r 143
Skips of perfection; green Meddows of hopes, wherein grows sweet Primroses
of Joy, and clear springs of desires, runs in swift streams of industry, by
the banks of difficulty, besides this Kingdome is allwayes serene, for
the Sun of Fervency allwayes shines there: In this large Kingdome of
love, reigns naturall Melancolly, who is the Heroick Royallest, soberest,
and wisest Prince born, in the mind, he directs his Actions with prudence,
defends his Kingdome with courage, indures misfortunes with
patience, moderates his desires with temperance, guides his Senses
with judgment, orders his Speech with Sence, and governs his thoughts with
reason, he is the commander of the Appetites; living in the Court of imaginations,
in the City of silences, in the Kingdome of love, in the little world
called Man; and the greatest favorite to this Prince, is wit, and the Muses,
are his Mistrisses, to whom he applies his Courtship, recreating himself in
their delightfull Company, entertaining himself with Balls, Maskes, Pastoralls,
Comedyes, Tragedyes, and the like, presenting them in the Bowers of
fancy, built in the Gardens of Oratory, wherein growes flowers of Rhetorick;
but the greatest enemies to this Prince, is unseasonable mirth, which oftimes
disturbes his peace, by bringing in an Army of empty words, sounding their
loud Trumpets of laughter, shooting of bald jests, beating the drums of idleness,
with the sticks of ridiculous Actions. But hate, although it be a Kingdome
that is very strong, by reason it hath high mountainous designes, hard
Rocks of cruelties, deep pits of obscurity, many Quagmires of subtilty, by
which advantages, this Kingdome is inpregnable; yet the Kingdome of its
self is barren, and Insipid, bearing nothing but thorny Bushes, of mischief and
moss, of ill Nature, no noble thoughts, or worthy Actions, the climate is
various, for the Aire of the mind is gross, having thick mists of envy, which
causeth several sicknesses of discontent, other whiles it is very cold and sharp
with spight, other times it is sulphury hot, with malice, which flashes lightning
of revenge, which in a thundery fury breaks out: In this Kingdome of
hate, reigns anger, who is a Tyrant, and strikes at every smale offence, and
many times on Innocence, and so unjust, as he seldome takes witnesses, pride,
and jealousy, are his favourites, which governs all with scorn, and executes
with fury; he imposes taxes of slander, and gathers levies of detraction;
exception is his secretary, to note both wordes and Actions, he accuseth
the Senses with mistakes, and beheads the Appetites, on the Scaffolds of
dislike; he strangles truth, with the Cords of Erronious opinions, and tortures
the thoughts one Wheels of foul suspition, whipping imagination with
disgrace, he confounds the Speech with disordered hast, that neither Sence,
nor wordes, can take their right places; but anger dyes as most Tyrants
doth, being kild by repentance, and is buryed in salt teares; betwixt these
two Kingdoms of love, and hate, runs a salt Sea, of sorrow, which sometimes
breaks into the Kingdome of love, and sometimes into the Kingdome of
hate, from this Sea arises thick vapours of grief, which gathers into dark
Clouds of sadness, which Clouds dissolves into showring tears, or windy
sighs; but if this Sea be rough with the storms of misfortunes, or fomented
with the tempest of impatience, it makes a dolourous noise of complaints,
and laments, roleing with restless bellowes of discontent, this in the Kingdome
of love, but when this Sea breaks into the Kingdome of hate, it makes
a hidious noise, a roaring, with exclamations, and cursings. Also from this
Sea flowes four rivers, quite through these two Kingdoms; two through the
Kingdome of hate, and two through the Kingdome of love, those two Nn2 through Nn2v 144
through the Kingdome of love, are pitty, and compassion; which when
they meet makes a full tide, of Charity, and overflowes with bounty; but
those that runs through the Kingdome of hate, are the two rivers, of fury,
and despair, when these two rivers meet, they make a full tide of madness,
and overflowes with mischief; but fearing I should drown your patience
with my overflowing discourse, I shall desist for this time.

After a Civill respects She goeth out. And one of the Company after she was gone speaks thus. My Lord Marquess writ this following speech.

One of the Company[Speaker label not present in original source]

Were all dead Moralls Writers, risen again, and their each several souls
crusht into one, that Soul would languish, till it fled the earth, in deep despair,
to see their gloryes last, and all their vaster writings, so dispised.

Thus by the Musick of a Ladyes tongue,

Whose Cords, with wit, and judgment, is thus strung.

Ex. Here ends my Lord Marquess.

Scene 12.

Enter the Lady Innocence and Adviser, an old Man, of the Lord de l’Amours, as following the Lady Innocence.

Adviser

Pray young Lady stay, and take good Counsel along with
you.

Lady Innocence

Good Counsel is a guest I would willingly entertain, and
be glad of his acquaintance, and endeavour, to make a perfect friendship
with, and a constant Companion.

Adviser

Then pray Madam have a care of the Lady Incontinent, for she is
full of designs against you, as I perceive by what I hear her say to my Lord.

Lady Innocence

Your Lord is a person of so much worth, and merit, as
he will not yield to plots of destruction, to destroy the Innocent, he hath more
Charity to heal a wound, than cruelty to make one; his tender Nature, and
compassionat disposition, will strive to dry wet eyes, not force dry eyes to
weep.

Adviser

My Lord, Madam, is a generous, and noble Lord, but she is a
dissembling crafty Lady, and knowes how to attract my Lord, and to winn
him, to be of her beliefe, and I give you warning as a faithfull Servant, both
to my Lord and you.

Lady Innocence

I thank you friend, for your advertising me of this Lady;
but I shall trust my self to heavens protection, fortunes favour, and your
Lords noble, and just Nature.

Ex. Scene
Oo1r 145

Scene 13.

Enter two Men.

1. Gentleman

The Lady Sanspareilles wit, is as if it would over-power
her brain.

2. Gentleman

O no, for her brain seems so well tempered, as if there were
no conceptions, which springs therein, or propositions, or knowledge, presented
thereunto; but it doth digest them with great ease, into a distinguishing
understanding, otherwise she could not deliver her mind, and express
her conceits, or opinions, with such method, and facility, as she doth.

1. Gentleman

She hath a Monstrous wit.

2. Gentleman

No, her wit is not a Monstrosity, but a generosity of Nature,
it is Natures bounty to her.

1. Gentleman

Certainly, Nature was never so bountifull, to any of that
Sex, as she hath been to her.

2. Gentleman

The truth is, she favours the Female Sex, for the most part,
more than she doth the Masculine Sex; because she is of the Female kind
herself.

1. Gentleman

Faith, I could wish that I never wisht before.

2. Gentleman

What wish is that?

1. Gentleman

Why, I wish, I were a Woman, but such a Woman as the
Lady Sanspareille.

2. Gentleman

Ovid speaks of a Woman, that wisht her self a Man, and
the Gods granted her wish, and she became a Man; but I never heard of a
Man that was changed into a Woman.

1. Gentleman

That was, by reason they never wisht that change.

2. Gentleman

That is a sign they thought the change would be far the
worse.

1. Gentleman

Indeed, generally it would be so.

2. Gentleman

Well, for thy sake, I wish thou hadst thy wish.

Ex.

Scene 14.

Enter the Lady Innocence, as musing by her self alone. Then Enter her Maid Passive.

Passive

My dear Mistriss, what makes you so studious, as you are become
pale with musing?

Lady Innocence

The reason is, that my Soul is flown out of my body, with
the wings of desire, to seek for love; and my thoughts laboriously wanders
after it, leaving my Senses, to a soillitary life, and my life to a Melancholly
musing.

Passive

Faith, I had rather be buryed under the ruins of hate, than have a
Melancholly life.

Oo Lady Oo1v 146

Lady Innocence

And I am Melancholly, for fear I should be so buryed.

Passive

If you would have love, you must give love.

Lady Innocence

Indeed love is like a Coy-Duck, it goeth out to invite, or
draw in others.

Passive

Nay faith, a Coy-Woman cannot do so, for the Coyer she is, the
fewer Lovers she will have, for Coynes starves Lovers, wherefore, if you
would not starve your beloved, you must be free, and twine about him, as the
Ivy doth the Oke.

Lady Innocence

Modesty forbids it, but were it lawfull, and that it did
not infring the Lawes of modesty, I could hang about his neck, as the earth
to the Center, but I had rather starve my delights, than do an Act immodest,
or surfite his affection.

Ex.

Act V.

Scene 15.

Enter the Lady Sanspareille, and her father, with the Audience,
she takes her place, and, after a Civill respects
to the Company, speaks.

Sanspareille

Noble Gentlemen, you are welcome, and, though I cannot
promise to feast your Eares, with an eloquent Banquet; yet I hope it
will prove so, as I hope it will not cause a dislike; for the several dishes of my
discourse shall neither be bitter with rayling, nor sharp with spite, nor salt
brined with Satyr, nor lushious with flattery, and, though it may prove tastless
to the gusto of your humour, yet it will not be disagreeing to the stomack of
your reason, nor dangerous to the life of your understanding; but, by reason
this worthy Assembly is mixt, as Oratours, Poets, young Students, and Souldiers,
it will be hard for me to divide my discourse so, as to give each Company
a Civill entertainment, but howsoever my indeavour shall not be wanting;
for that wit I have, I shall waite upon you, I shall first speak to the young
Students, because youth, and learning, is the beginning of life, and knowledge,
and young brains are like plain paper books, where time as a hand, experience
as a pen, and practice as Ink, writes therein; and these books conteins
several, and divers Chapters. The First, is of knowledge. The Second,
and Third Chapters, are of memory and understanding; these Chapters are
but short. The Fourth, and Fift Chapters, are conceptions and imaginations;
this Chapter conteins more than half the book. The Last Chapter, is
remembrance, which is also a very long Chapter, and the variety of thoughts
are the several letters, in which these Chapters are writ; but they, are not all
writ after one kind of writing, neither are they writ with one, and the same
language; For knowledge is writ in great and plain letters, memory and understanding,
in finer, and smaller letters; Conceptions, and Imaginations,
after that manner of way, as like Hieroglyphiks, Remembrance is writ, as after
the like way of Characters; Knowledge is writ, in the Originall Language as Oo2r 147
as we may liken to Hebrew; Memory and Understanding, are writ, in a
language derived therefrom: Conception, and Imagination, are written in
heathen Greek; Remembrance is writ in a mixt, or compounded language,
like as English, but yet it is most like, that we call old English: But the most
profitablest School is consideration; And the best Tutour is reason, and
when the mind is distempered, or obstructed with Ignorance, education is the
best Physick which purges it, cleanses and freeth it, from all gross, and foul,
and filthy Errours; but the Educatours, which are the Physitians, should be
well chosen; for the plain truth is, that youth should be taught by those that
are grave, and sage, that they may learn experience by the Second hand,
otherwayes Age only knows, but hath no time to practise in; but if that
youth be taught good principles, their life growes high by Noble deeds,
and broadly spreads with Honours, but when that youth have liberty
to sport, and play, casting their learning time away, they grow like poisonous
plants, or weeds, which makes their life swell big, with venomous
passions, and dispositions, and burst with evill deeds, but youth,
their understanding is like their years, and bodyes, little and weak, for the
Soul is improved by the Senses, but Educatours, their Physitians presents to
their Senses, the most wholesom, and nurishing meat; for, as the body is
nurished and grows strong, by good disgestion, so doth the Soul gain knowledge
by information, but, if the food be unwholesom, or more than the
Stomack be able to disgest, or that the body is not fed sufficiently, the body
becoms lean, weak, faint, and sick, so the Soul, or mind; If the senses be
imperfect, or the objects more than can be well discust, or too many for the
temper of the brain, or that the brain be too cold, or to hot, then the Soul or
mind, like the body, decayes, for, like as the bodily senses, so the senses of the
Soul decayes; for the understanding as the Spirits, grows faint, the judgment
as the liver, wan, and weak, the memory as the eyes, grows dim and blind,
the thoughts as the several limbs, grows feeble and lazy; but some remedy
is for those diseases; for speculative notes helpes the dull memory, cordiall
learning, the faint understanding, purging, and opening, experience, the wan
and obstructed judgment, and necessity exercises the lazy thoughts; but if
the brain be defective, or the Soul imperfect from the birth, there is no remedy,
for then the reason proves a dwarf, and the understanding a fool; but
if the Soul be perfect, and the brain well tempered, then the Soul is like the
serene and azure Sky, wherein reason as the Sun, gives light to all the Animal
World, where the thoughts, as severall Creatures, lives therein; some
being bred in the deep, and restless Ocean, of Imagination, others, as from
the fixt Earth of knowledge, springs; and, as the Gods governs the World,
and the Creatures therein, so the Soul should govern the body, and the Appetites
thereof; which governing, is to govern still to the best: As for the continuance
of the World, so for the prolonging of the life of the body, which
government I wish to the Soul of every young Student here. In the next
place, I shall speak to Oratours, whose study, and practice is language, and
language, although it is not born with man, yet it is bred with man, or in
man, either by their education, or their own Invention; for, if language had
a beginning, it was invented by the Creature, if no beginning, it was taught
them by the Gods; for, though that Nature made such Organs, as was proper
to express language with, yet it seems as if she did not Creat language,
as a principal work, but if she did, then Oratours tongues are Natures Musicall
instruments; but the best Musicall Instruments were better to lye unplaidOo2 plaid Oo2v 148
with, than to sound out of Tune, or to strike jarring discord, which
displeaseth more than the harmony can delight, so likewise it were better not
to speak, than to speak to no purpose, or to an evill design, but Oratory, or
Rhetorick, is as all other Musick is, which lives more in sound than in substance,
it charms the eare, but it cannot inchant the reason, it may enslave the
passions, but not conquer the understanding, it may obstruct truth, and abuse
virtue, but it can neither destroy the one, nor corrupt the other, it can flatter
up hopes, and raise up doubts, but it cannot delude experience, it can make
factions, and raise tumults; but seldome rectify disorders; for it is to be observed,
that in those States, or Nations, where Oratory, and Rhetorick flourisheth
most, the Common-wealth is for the most part distempered, and Justice
looses her seat, and many times the State looses its former Government,
Customs and Lawes, witness the Romans, Athens, and Lacedemonians, and
others, that were ruined by their flourishing Rhetorick, and factious Oratory;
but it is thought that the flowers of Rhetorick is much vaded since the
time of the Athens, through the whole World, and that the lively Cullours
are quite lost, if it be so, then surely the deffect is much in the first education,
of Children; for in Infancy is a time, these should take a good print, but
their Nurses is their Grammar, and her tongue is their first Tutour, which
most commonly learns them the worst parts of Speech, which parts are
Eight; as impertinent questions, cross answers, broken relations, false reports,
rude speeches, mistaking words, misplacing words, new words of
their own making without a signification: Wherefore, parents that would
bring up their Children elegantly, and eloquently, they must have a learned
Grammar, and a wise Tutour at the first, to teach them, for the mouth as
the Press, Prints the breath as the Paper, with words, as the Ink, and
reason, and sense, bindes them up into a book, or vollume of discourses;
but certainly the Oratours of this Age for eloquence, and
elegancy, comes not short of the eloquent Oratours of Athens, or
any other State, they only use it to better designs, than to make
Warrs on their Neighbours, to banish their Citizens, or those that ought to
be rewarded, to alter their Government, and ruine their state; no worthy
Oratours, you use your eloquence for peace, love, and unity, and not for faction
War and ruine; for which, may the Gods of eloquence assist you. But
there is two sorts of Oratours, the one bred up in Schools of Art, to rules
forms and tenses, the other is bred up in the School of Nature, which only
observes her rules, and studies her works; for though all Oratours are not
Poets, yet all Poets are naturall Oratours, and hath a naturall, eloquent, and
elegant, and easy expression; for, if a man should have a Poeticall brain, if he
had not a full expression to deliver his conceits, they would be as if they
were not, for, as their may be several fancies, and conceits, raised from one
object or subject, so there requires several significant words, to express them;
for, as time is the markes of eternity, so words are the markes of things, but indeed
Poets hath a harder task than Oratours, for Oratours builds their discourse
upon solid grounds, when Poets builds their discourse upon
airy foundations, but the two principles of Poetry, is similizing, and
distinguishing, which are fancy, and judgment, and some Poets braines
are so happy, that as soon as they have bred, or created any fancy, the tongue
is ready to deliver them; but some brains are a long time in breeding, and
some fancies puts the brain into great pains, and hot, and painfull throwes;
and some tongues as ill Midwifes, strangles strong fancies in the birth, but a volable Pp1r 149
volable tongue, is like an expert, and understanding Midwife, which makes
easy, safe, and quick dispatch, for wit and judgment, are both the Children
of the brain, begot by Nature; being both Twin Sisters, and so Ingenious,
and Inventive they are, that they build their arguments so curiously, and
compile the sence into so small a compass, that there is no waste room, nor
superfluous wordes, nor painted phraises, nor useless parentheses, nor obstructed
Sentences; for they build with phancy, and compile with similizing
cut, and carved, with Allegoryes, polisht with numbers, and oftimes adorned
with Rhime, the persons to which wit, and judgment; the Children of Nature
are placed, as Sojourners, or Boorders, are Poets; who are Natures favourites,
and for the education of her Children, she rewards them, by inriching
their mindes, though not their purses; for she leaves that to Fortune, but
Fortune through Envy to Nature, is seldome their friend: Also Nature,
gives her Favourite Poets delights; for Poets takes more delight, and pleasure
in their own thoughts and conceptions, than an absolute Monarch in his
power and Supremacy; for like as Birds, that hops from Bough to Bough,
whereon they sit and sing, so Poets thoughts moves, from Theam, to Theam,
making sweet Melody; and as Hens broods Chickens, which Chickens, are
not hacht, untill they have strength to pick a passage through their shels,
with their Bils, and when they are fledg’d, flies from their Nest on a high
perching branch, so the brain layes Imaginations, and broods fancies, and the
tongue as a Bil, picks a passage through the lips, and being feathered with
words, winged with verse, flyes up even with numbers, to fames high Tower;
but the Muses the Handmaids to Nature, doth as all other Maidens,
loves the Courtship of the Masculine Sex, which is the cause, or reason they
seldome visit their own Sex, but passes their time in the Company, and Conversation
of men; by some men, they are only admired, and loved, by others,
they are sued to, and enjoyed, which happy Suters, are Poets; but the
Muses, as all other Femals takes a delight to enjoy their Lovers alone, that
makes them seperate themselves from other Company; and Poets as all Lovers,
doth love solitude: wherefore, Poets the lovers of the Muses, and the
Muses lovers of the Poets, oftimes chooseth a soletary life, as being a Paradise,
for Innocent delight, wherein the Senses lyes on soft banks of repose, the
whilst the mind with a sober, and serious peace, walkes in the silent shades
of contemplation, shunning the hot and burning Sun of high ambition, and
there the active thoughts; the Children of the mind, in harmless sports, doth
with the Muses play, and on their heads Garlands of Phancy wear, made all
of Rhetoricks choisest flowers, whose Cullours fresh and gay, thus are the
thoughts adorned and deckt, as the fair Month of May; about this paradise,
which paradise is a soletary life, the calm smooth River of safety flowes,
which Winds, or Circles in the life, from suffering, or acting injury, or
wrong: And from this River of safety, runs many streams of pleasures, wherein
the mind refreshing Bathes, secure and free, no false witness to accuse their
Innocency; no tempestuous storms, nor dreadfull Thunders hard, nor flashing
lightning there appears, all is their Serene and clear, unless sometimes
thin Clouds of Melancholly falls in fresh showring tears, or from the heart
ariseth some gentle sighs, which breathing out Fans, like to Zephyrus Winds;
and in this solitary life 3. Trees doth grow, Peace, Rest, and Silence, are they
named, the fruits they bare, is plenty, ease, and quiet.

Pp On Pp1v 150

On which the mind deliciously doth feed,

Whose lushious Juice, tranquility as fat doth breed;

Reason the Nerves, and Grissels of the mind,

Grows strong, and cures the understanding blind;

Ther’s none but Fools, this happy life would shun,

Such as would seek in ruggid wayes to run:

O Fools! O Fools! to love their torments so,

That they will rather choose to hell, than Heaven go.


But there is no man can enjoy this worldly Paradise, without a defence;
for none can live in peace, that is not prepared as ready for War, for both
the Theological, Civil, Common, and Accustomary Laws, are protected
by the Marshall Law, and the Marshall Power, is the Supream Authority,
placing, and displacing, and is the Monarchical Power, that doth not only
protect all other Laws, but commands them with threats, and is obeyed
with Terrour and fear, honoured for the same, and hated for the Tiranny;
but Souldiery is a painfull, carefull, and dangerous, although noble profession,
but as I said, tis one of the safest, and securest protections; for it is protection
to the weak, and infirm, to the decreped, and aged, to the shiftless youth,
and to the faint, fearfull, and tender effeminate Sex, it is a guard unto the Ashes
of the dead, to the Monuments of the Meritorious, and to the Temples of
the Gods. And were it not for Marshall-Discipline, there could be no peace
kept, truth and right would be torn from the Owners, Justice would be pulled
out of her Seat, Monarchy throne out of his Throne, and though a Souldier
may loose his life sooner than Nature did ordain; yet in recompence,
honour buryes him, and fame builds him a glorious Monument over his sleeping
Ashes; but by reason that fame is a Souldiers chief reward, I ought not
to pass it by, whithout mentioning it; As for fame, it is a second life, and as
I may say, the Soul of merit; but there is a difference, betwixt the Records of
time, Fame, and Infamy; for there are many things, that are writ in the Records
of time, that is, neither in Fames Tower, nor Infamies Dungeon, that
which is writ in the Records of time, is strange accidents, unlucky chances;
unusuall Objects, unexpected preferments, or advancements, by Fortunes favour,
or partiall affections, also great ruines, losses, and crosses, also Plagues,
Dearths, Famines, Warres, Earthquakes, Meteors, Comets, unusuall Seasons,
extraordinary Storms, Tempests, Floods, Fires, likewise great strength,
very old Age, Beauty, deformities, unnaturall Births, Monsters, and such
like, which time Records: But Fame is the Godess, of eminent, and Meritorious
Actions, and her Palace is the Heaven, where the renowns which
are the Souls of such Actions, lives; I say Eminent, and Meritorious Actions;
for all Meritorious Actions, are not Eminent, but those that
transcends an usuall degree, as extraordinary valour, Patience, Prudence, Justice,
Temperance, Constancie, Gratitude, Generosity, Magnaminity, Industry,
Fidelity, Loyalty, Piety, also extraordinary Wisdome, Wit, Ingenuities,
Speculations, Conceptions, Learning, Oratory, and the like; but it is
not sufficient to be barely indued with those vertues, and qualities, but these
vertues, and qualities, must be elevated, beyond an ordinary degree, insomuch,
as to produce some extraordinary Actions, so as to be Eminent; for
Fame dwells high, and nothing reaches her, but what is Transcendent, either
in worth, or power; for it is to be observed, that none but Joves Mansion is purely Pp2r 151
purely free, from deceit, and corruptions, for Nature is artified, and fame is
often forced by fortune, and conquering power, and sometimes bribed by
flattery, and partiality, and in Times Records there is more false reports than
true, and in Infamous Dungeon, which is deep, although not dark, being inlightned
by the eye of knowledge, and the lamp of Memory, or Remembrance,
which divulges, and shewes to several, and after Ages, the evill deeds
which lyes therein, as Thefts, Murther, Adultery, sacriledg, Injustice, evill
Government, foolish Counsells, Tyrany, Usurpation, Rapine, Extortion,
Treason, broken promises, Treachery, Ingratitude, Cosening, Cheating, Sherking,
Lying, Deluding, Defrauding, factions, Disobedience, Follies, Errours
Vices, Fools, Whores, Knaves, Sicophants, Sloth, Idleness, Injury, Wrong,
and many Hundreds the like; yet many Innocent vertues, and well deserving
deeds, at least good Intentions, lyes in the Dungeon of Infamy, cast
therein by false constructions, evill Events, Malice, Envy, Spight, and the like;
sometimes some gets out by the help of right interpretation, friendly assistance,
or eloquent pleading; but yet these are very seldome, by reason the
Dungeon is so deep, that it allmost requires a supernaturall strength, to pull
out any dead therein, for therein, they are oftner buried in Oblivion, than
translated by pleading; but as I said, many Innocents are unjustly cast into
Infamies Dungeon, and lyes for ever therein, and many a false report is writ
in times Records, and never blotted thereout: And many vain, and unworthy
Actions, feigned vertues, and vitious qualities, hath got not only into Fames
Palace, but are placed high in Fames Tower; and good successes, although
from evill designs, and wicked deeds, doth many times usurp, the most cheifest,
and highest places, as to be set upon the Pinacle, for fortune conquering,
power and partiality, forceth, carries, and throwes more into fames Palace,
than honest Industry, leads, or merit advances therein, or unto which is unjust,
yet not to be avoided; for Fortune, and victory, are powerfull, and so
powerfull, as many times they tred down the Meritorious, and upon those
pure footstoole, they raise up the unworthy and base; thus fames base Born,
thrust out the Legitimat heirs, and usurp the Right, and Lawfull Inheritance,
of the Right owners of fames Palace: Wherefore worthy Heroicks,
you cannot enjoy fame, when you will, nor make her sound out so loud, as you
would, nor so long as you would, nor where you would have her, unless you
force her, which is only to be done by the assistance of time, the providence of
forecast, the diligence of prudence, the Ingenuity of Industry, the direction
of opportunity, the strength of Power, the agility of Action, the probability
of opinion, the verity of truth, the favour of Fortune, the esteem of Affection,
the guifts of Nature, and the breeding of education; besides that, fame is of
several humours, or Natures, and her Palace stands on several soyles, and her
Trumpet sounds out several Notes, Aires, Strains, or Dities; for some
Aires, or Strains, are pleasant, and chearfull, others sad and Melancholly;
and sometimes she sounds Marches of War, some to Charge, some to Retreat;
also sometimes her Palace stands on Rocks of adversity, other times
on the flat soyles of prosperity, sometimes in the Sun shine of plenty, other
times in the shade of poverty, sometimes in the flowery Gardens of peace,
other times in the bloody fields of War; but this is to be observed, that
fame at all times sounds out a Souldiers Renown louder than any others; for
the sound of Heroick Actions spreads furthest, yet the renown of Poets sounds
sweetest; for fame takes a delight to sound strains of wit, and Aires of Fancies,
and time takes pleasure to record them; but worthy Heroicks, give Pp2 me Pp2v 152
me leave to tell you, that if time and occasion doth not fit, or meet your Noble
ambitions; you must fashion your Noble ambitions to the times, and
take those opportunities that are offered you; for if you should slip the season
of opportunity, wherein you should soe the seeds of Industry, you will
loose the harvest of Honourable deeds, so may starve, wanting the bread of
report, which should feed the life of applause; but noble Heroicks, when
you adventure, or set forth, for the purchase of Honour, you must be armed
with fortitude, and march along with prudence, in a united body of patience,
than pitch in the field of fidelity, and fight with the Sword of Justice, to
maintain the cause of right, and to keep the priviledges of truth, for which,
you will be intailed the Heirs, and Sons of fame; and my wishes and Prayers
shall be, that you may be all Crowned with Lawrell.

After she had made her respects. She goeth out. My Lord Marquess, writ these following Speeches.

A Souldier

Silence all thundring Drums, and Trumpets loud, with glistering
Arms, bright Swords, and waving Plumes.

And the feared Cannon powdered, shall no more,

Force the thin Aire with horrour for to roare;

Nor the proud steeds, with hollow hoofes to beat

The humble Earth, till Ecchoes it repeat.

This Lady makes Greek Tactiks to look pale,

And sars Comentaries blush for shame.

The Amazonian Dames, shakes at her Name.

Poets

The Lady Muses are deposed, unthroned from their high Pallace,
of Parnassus-Hill.

Where she in glory, with Poetick flames, there sits,

In Triumph, Emperess of wits;

Where her bright beams, our Poets doth inspire,

As humble Mortalls, from her gentle fire:

She is the only Muses, gives Phancy store,

Else, all our Poets, they could write no more.

Oratour

Were the oyled tongue of Tully now alive, and all the rest of
glibed tongued Oratours, with their best arguments, to force a truth, or else
with subtilty of slight to avoid it; those tongues with trembling Palsies,
would be all struck dumb, with wonder and amazement, to hear truth
Cloathed so gently, as to move all Oratours, their passions into love, admired
Virgin.

Then all the Auditory goeth out. Here ends my Lord Marquesses.

Finis.

Qq1r 153

The Second Part of
Youths Glory, and Deaths Banquet..

Act I.

Scene 1.

Enter the Lord de l’Amour, and the Lady Innocence, the Lord
de l’Amour
seems to appear angry.

Lady Innocence

My Lord, what makes you frown on me,
surely I never willingly offended you?

Lord de l’Amour

But the report I hear of you offends
me.

Lady Innocence

I hope my behaviour is not lyable to any
aspersion or evil censure; for, as you have used me civily,
so I have behaved my self modestly.

Lord de l’Amour

I perceive you are a subtil insinuating young Lady.

Lady Innocence

Think me not subtil, for being so bred as not to slight your
Love; nor so uncivil, as to scorn your noble favours; but strive to merit
your worthy affections; but if I have erred in my endeavours, pray pardon
me, and if you please to tell me my errour, I shall rectify it.

Lord de l’Amour

I hear you will speak more lyes, than tell truths.

Lady Innocence

Truly I am too strict a Votary to truth to tell a lye.

Lord de l’Amour

I should be glad you were vowed one of her Order.

Lady Innocence

I am so, and have taken the habit of sincerity upon me.

Lord de l’Amour

Tell me truly, do you never use to lye?

Lady Innocence

If you have opinion that I never, or seldome, speak truth,
let me say what I will, you will still believe it is a lye; but truly, I did never
tell a lye as I do know of, but did alwayes speak truth.

Lord de l’Amour

I hear to my great grief you have many faults, pray
mend them.

Lady Innocence

I am sory there are so many ill reports, or rather aspersions
laid on me as to grieve you; but surely, youth cannot commit many faults;
but Age, that hath had time to commit faults in; but if you can believe
my faults surmounts not all accounts: I shall desire to know them.

Lord de l’Amour

Examine yourself, and you will find them.

Lady Innocence

I shall call a particular Councel, and make a General
search, and what thoughts, words, or actions, I can find guilty, or prove Criminal,
I shall condemn, and sacrifice them on the Altar of Repentance,
and crave mercy and forgiveness.

Lord de l’Amour

Pray do so.

Ex. Qq Lady Qq1v 154 Lady Innocence alone.

The Lady Innocence,[Speaker label not present in original source]

’Tis strange his humour should be so suddenly changed, from loving professions, kind
expressions, and pleasing smiles, to sharp words, and angry frowns; and that he
should seem to love me as much as he did, & now, to believe me so little, as it seems
he doth, I hope it is only the superfluities of his affections, that runs into the indiscretion
of jealousie.

Ex. Enter Sanspareile and her Audience. As soon as she hath
taken her standing place,
A Messenger Enters.

Messenger

The Queen of Attention is come to be one of your Audience.

The Company makes a bustle. Enter the Queen of Attention, and her Train. Sir Thomas Father Love kneels down, and kisses her hand.

Queen

I am come to hear, and see your Daughter, whom fame reports
to be the wonder of this Age.

Father

It had been more proper, and fit, for my Daughter to have waited
at your Court-Gates, untill your Majesty had commanded her into your presence,
than for your Majesty to come hither, to hear, and see her; but she
being a plain bred girle, durst not be so bold.

Queen

If your Daughters wit be answerable to her beauty, she is a wonder
indeed.

Sanspareile comes off from the place where she stands, and makes 3. Obeysances,
and coming near kneels down, and kisses the Queens hand.

Lady Sanspareile

Madam, this gracious honour, and honourable grace, is
beyond the management of my young years; the evill of my weak confidence,
and the compass of my little wit, and my obscure breeding, hath made me
so Ignorant, that I know not in what manner I should behave, or address my
self towards your Majesty; but if I commit faults in misbehaviour, pray impute
it to my ignorant youth, and not to disobedience.

Queen

I see nothing yet in your behaviour, but that you may be not only
a pattern for young, but also for grave Age, to take example from.

Sanspareile

Madam, the generosity of your Majesties Nature, the Magnificence
of your Majesties mind, and the Charity of your Majesties disposition,
gives an overflowing commendation, like to the goodness of the Gods,
that gives more to the Creature, than the Creature can deserve.

Queen

Let me tell you young Lady, your speeches are as pleasing to the
eare, as your beauty is delightfull to the eye.

Sanspareile

Your Majesty is like a Deity, can turn or translate words, like
poor Mortals, into a glorified sence, like as into a glorified body.

Queen. Qq2r 155

Queen

Sir Thomas Father Love, if your Daughter speak at all times, and
alwayes so eloquently, I should not wonder you let her speak in publick.

Father

I beseech your Majesty, that you will rather judge me an over fond
Father, which is natural, than a vain opiniatour, in that I give her liberty to
speak in publick.

Queen

If it were a vanity, it might be well forgiven; but pray let me hear
her speak.

Sanspareile makes three obeysances as she steps back from the
Queen to her standing-place, and then ascends.

Sanspareile

Great Queen! I, nor no other, should offer, or dare to speak
before, or to such Supreme persons as your Majesty, without a fore premeditation;
for the words and behaviours of speakers should be fitted to the degrees
and qualities, Powers, Offices, and Authorities of the Auditory; But
your Majesties commands makes that an obedient duty, that would otherwayes
be a presumption; wherefore, on the ground of duty I speak at this
time before your Majesty; but the Royalty of your person, the brightnesse of
your beauty, the fame of your vertues, and the glorious splendour of your
Majestical Grandeur hath so amazed me, that my understanding is as it were
blind, which will cause my tongue to stagger, and my words to run stumbling
out of my mouth; but I hope your Justice will pardon them; For, as Divine
Justice belongs to the Gods, moral Justice to Nature; so humane Justice to
Monarchical Princes, which justice is weighed and measured out according
to merit, or desert, be they good or bad: For which Justice Gods and Princes
are both feared and loved; and Justice is the chief Pillar or upholder of
Monarchical States and Common-wealths; for without Justice there
can be no Government, and withouut Government there can be
no Rule, and without Rule there can be no peace, and where peace is not,
there will be warrs and, warrs causeth ruine and destruction; But for the
most part, those Kingdomes that have arrived to the height of Glory, declines
or falls to ruine: The reason is, that a low condition is necessitated, and
weak; wherefore they seek for help to strengthen themselves, which makes
or rather forces every particular person to associate, & unite either by Laws
or Covenants, to which they submit and obey: But when a Kingdom is in
a Glorious condition, and is full of prosperity, every particular Citizen or
man thinks he can stand upon his own foundation, flinging off their supporters,
which is Duty, and obedience, which makes them fall to ruine; For
when men comes to that height of pride, caused by prosperity, that they all
strive to be Superiours, and Commanders; they become Factious and mutinous
against the Magistrates, Rulers, or Governours; which Factions begets
warrs, either by calling in Forriegners, or by making, or siding into parties amongst
themselves; for it is to be observed, that States, or Monarchies do
oftner fall by the pride and Factions of the Commons, or Subjects, than by
the Tyranny of the Rulers or Governours; But it is the nature of the vulgar
sort of man-kind, to be the most basest, fearfulest & dejected Creatures in adversity,
that Nature hath made, and in prosperity to be the proudest, insultingest
and imperious and cruelest of all Creatures. But Kings and Royal Princes
should do as Gods, which is to keep their Subjects in aw, with the Superstitious
fear of Ceremonies; wherefore Princes should do no actions, no, not
the meanest, without Ceremony to astonish the vulgar; for Ceremonies begetsQq2 gets Qq2v 156
fear, fear begets Superstition, Superstition Reverence, Reverence Obedience,
Obedience brings Peace, Peace brings Tranquility; But where Ceremonie
is not used, the Gods are neglected, and Princes dispised; for Ceremonie
is the Throne on which Gods and Princes sits on, which being pulled away,
they fall from their Glory; for Ceremonie is the Royal Crown which
makes them Majestical, it is the Scepter by which they rule, it is the Altar
at which all the Subjects kneel, do bow, and they offer up there their natural
free liberty.

But most glorious Princess, you and your Subjects are like the Sun, and
the rest of the Planets, moving perpetually, keeping their proper Sphere, they
moving in civiler loyalty about you, to receive the light of your Authority,
and you move in them as the just center, spreading your glorious beams round
about the Circumference of your Dominions, and in the light of your commands
they see their duty: And your Laws are like the fixed Starrs, which
twinkling move in the night of great offences, and doth assist the innocent
with sparkling light. And your Majesty governs like the Gods, your wisdome
by your Works is known, and by your Wisdome is your Power
Immense.

So doing her respects, comes off from her standing, and with three Reverences
comes to the Queen.

Queen

Young Lady let me tell you, that you are fit to be a Governesse,
(although you be very Young) that can speak so well of Government.

Sanspareile

’Tis happier for me to be a Subject to so gracious a Sovereign,
than if I were to govern a people my self.

Ex.

Scene 2.

Enter the Lady Innocence, and her Maid.

Passive

Madam, you retire your self more to solitary than you were used
to do.

Lady Innocence

Because I find the world not only more foolish, but more
wicked than I thought it was, but who would endure the world, or the
worlds folly, since solitarinesse is sweet and melancholly?

Passive

The truth is, that words pleaseth the world more than reason; and vice is exercised more than vertue.

Lady Innocence

You say right, for words takes the world of man-kind by
the ears, drawing them about even where they please; when reason is not
heard, also vice will be imbraced, and vertue kickt away; thus words and
vice will get a room, both in the head and heart, when reason and vertue are
barr’d out, but if perchance they are crowded in, they are straight thrown out
as unfit guests, or troublesome intruders.

Passive

But Madam, let me advise you from so much solitude, for obscurity
shadows vertue, and buries beauty.

Lady Innocence

And Solitude doth hide defects, as well as Excellencies.

Passive. Rr1r 157

Passive

But you have no defects to hide.

Lady Innocence

Nor Excellencies to divulge.

Enter the Lady Innocence, the Lord de l’Amour Ex. Passive.

Lord de l’Amour

Tis strange you can be so crafty in dissembling, and yet so
young; for you appear to me to be innocently modest, and of a bashfull Nature,
and yet it is told me you are so impudently bold, speaking so wantonly,
as it is a shame to Nature, which makes me fear you will prove dishonest.

Lady Innocence

Perchance I might learn modest words, but not the signification;
yet surely I never spake such words I understood not, nor have I many
speaking faults to accuse me.

Lord de l’Amour

I am told you speak so knowingly of marriage, as if you
were a mother of many children.

Lady Innocence

The mystery of marriage I neither know, nor guesse at,
neither do I know how children are bred or born.

Lord de l’Amour

If you be so ignorant, you may loose your Virginity for
want of knowledge and wit to keep it.

Lady Innocence

I have been taught, none can be devirginated that suffers
not immodest actions, if so, I am a pure Virgin, and my thoughts are so innocent,
and my life so honest, as I wish the Chambers of my mind or soul,
(which is the brain and the heart) were set open to your view; there should
you see the pictures in the one, and read the letters in the other, for truth records
all in the heart, and memory pencils all that the imaginations or Senses
brings into the brain.

Lord de l’Amour

I cannot but believe what is so confidently reported; but
your words are such charms, as they inchant my angry passions, and makes my
will a prisoner.

Lady Innocence

Let reason, as a Knight of Chevalry, and truth as his Esquire,
set him free, and open the gates of understanding, then you might see
vertue cloathed with white Innocency, and truth free from the bonds of
falshood.

Lord de l’Amour

So you were as wise as witty.

Lady Innocence

Wisdome is built upon the Foundation of Experience;
wherefore none can be wise but those that are old; but though I am too
young to be wise, yet not to be vertuously honest.

Lord de l’Amour

Pray Heaven you prove so.

Ex. Lady Innocency alone.

The Lady Innocence,[Speaker label not present in original source]

Heaven blesse my innocency from Thieves of slander, that strives to
steal away my honest Fame.

Ex. Rr Scene 3.
Rr1v 158

Scene 3.

Enter two Men, or Scholars.

1 Gentleman

This Lady Sanspareile hath a strange spreading wit, for
she can plead causes at the Bar, decide causes in the Court of Judicature,
make Orations on publick Theaters; act parts, and speak speeches
on the Stage, argue in the Schooles, preach in the Pulpits, either in Theology,
Philosophy, moral and natural, and also phisick and Metaphysick.

2. Gent

The truth is, she is ushered by the Muses, led by the Sciences, and
attended by the Arts.

Ex.

Scene 4.

Enter the Lady Innocence, alone.

Lady Innocence

I do perceive my shiftlesse youth is round beset with
enemies.

Suspitions round about me placed,

With slandring words my fame disgraced:

My innocency, as craft is thought,

My harmlesse life to ruine brought;

Who will adore the Gods, if they

Vice, vertue, in one ballance lay?

Ex.

Act II.

Scene 5.

Enter the Lady Sanspareile, all in white Satin, like as a Bride,
and her Father and her audience, which are all Lovers;
these stand gazing upon her.

Sanspareile

This Noble assembly may chance to think it a vanity in me,
never to receive any particular visit or adresse from any particular or single
person, but I do so, by reason life is lost in particular acquaintance, as
small Rivers are in running through the earth. But in the publick, life swims as
in a full Sea, having a fair gale of observation, and Sailes of opportune time to
swim withall, marking the Card of actions, and the Needle of dispositions drawn Rr2r 159
drawn or turned by the Loadstone of affection, to the North-pole of Experience,
to guide me safe from the Rocks of slander, and quick-sands of scandal,
till I come to the Port of death, there to unload my Lifes Merchandise; and
I hope my Voyage may be so prosperous, as I may be inriched with the praises
of After-Ages.

Likewise, the reason why I choose to speak in publick, is, that I would not
speak idely, for in publick I shall take care of what I speak, and to whom I
speak, when in private visitations to single persons, my speech may be carelesse
with negligence, in which I may throw away my time with my words;
For, to speak to no purpose, is to make words useless, and words is the marks
to distinguish things, and Figures to number merits with, and Notes to record
the noble Acts of men.

But at this time I am to speak by my Fathers command, upon a Subject
which my contemplation hath no acquaintance with, which is marriage, and
I hear by my Father, that you have all treated with him, or rather intreated
him to bestow me in marriage, which is to make me unhappy, not but that I
believe what I hear, which is, that you are all persons of Quality, Birth, Breeding,
and Merit, far beyond my desert, yet with the best, if any best there be,
being all worthy; yet were I a wife to any one, I might be unhappy, by reason
marriage is an incumbered life, although the Husband and the Wife were
fitly matcht for years, Births, Fortunes, Dispositions, Humours, Capacities,
Wits, Conversations, Constancies, Vertues, and affections; and first, by your
leave, I will discourse of mens marriage, by reason Man being accounted the
Supremer Creature, and alwayes bearing Rule, he shall be first placed.
As for marriage, to men it is a great hinderance to a speculative life, it cuts
off Phancies Wings, and quenches out the Poetical Fire, it breaks the Engine
of invention, disturbs sweet contemplation, corrupts honest Counsels, obstructs
all Heroick actions, obscures fame, and often times causes infamy by
the wifes inconstancies, and many times by her indiscretion; for a man is dishonoured
if his wife is but thought wanton, or but inclining to be amorous,
and though she be as sober in her Nature, and as constant as any woman can
be, yet the very suspition is a disgrace, and if the suspition is a disgrace, what
is a visible truth? His very Neighbours makes Horns as he passeth by their
doors, whilst he sadly and shamefully hangs down his head with a dejected
countenance, which makes him seem a Coward and a Fool, although it be
unjust that the faults of the wife should be a blemish to the Husbands honour;
yet so it is, this being the greatest cause why Husbands are jealouse, which
jealousie is more for their Honours sake, than for their Wives affections;
thus you see how dangerous a thing it is for man to marry, who must trust
his honour to the management of a Foolish Woman, and women naturally
like children, inconstant, unlesse education doth rectifie their frail natures, peevish
humours, various appetites, and inconstant affection: Likewise marriage
is not only apt to corrupt the mind with jealousie, but with Covetousnesse;
for the extreme fondnesse and natural love of Parents to their Children,
makes them strive by all their endeavours to inrich them; this makes them
gripe their Tennants, pinch and half starve their servants, quarrel and dispute
with their neighbours, corrupt Judges take Bribes, besides it makes men
apt to rebell, and turn Traitorus, murmuring at their Taxes and impositions, it
also makes them timorous and fearful in warrs, by reason their wife and children
may be ruined by their death. Also it makes them dull in their Confversations,Rr2 versations Rr2v 160
by reason they are alwayes plodding for their worldly affairs; and
for the Muses, had a husband time to entertain them, yet the wife would
right them, or drive them from him, with their quarreling disputes, or
sencelesse prizes; besides most women are as jealouse of the Muses, as of
their Maids; but to treat or discourse of married women, is to discourse of
a most unhappy life, for all the time of their lives is insnared with troubles,
what in breeding and bearing children, what in taking and turning away Servants,
directing and ordering their Family, counting their expences, and disbursing
their revenues, besides the vexations with their servants, for their
quarreling and combining, for their sloth and sluttery, for their spoiles and
carlessnesse, for their treachery and couzenage, and if they have Children,
what troubles and griefs do ninsue? Troubled with their frowardnesse and untowardnesse,
the care for their well being, the fear for their ill doing, their
grief for their sicknesse, and their unsufferable sorrow for their death; Yet
this is the best part, and not to be avoided: But if these troubles be joyned with
an ill Husband, it heightens their torments; for if he be a Drunkard, she had
better be marryed to a Beast, her nostrils is stencht with the Lees of wine,
her eyes are offended with his rude behaviour, and her ears are struck with
a cursed noise of cursing and Oaths; and if he be a Gamester, she lives in an
unsetled condition, she knows not how soon she may want; for if she have
plenty one day, she may be in condition to beg the next. And if her Husband
be inconstant, and loves variety of women: O how jealousie torments
her, besides the wrongs she suffers from him! what affronts she receives from
his Mistresse! How is she dispised amongst her neighbours? sleighted by her
servants, suspected by the world for having some defect? as either to be incontinent,
sluttish, foolish, froward, crosse, unkind, ill natured, sickly, or diseased,
when perchance the woman may be worthy to be matcht with a temperate,
wise, valiant, honest, rich and honourable man; and if women go
fine, and take pleasure in themselves, and Garments, their Husbands are jealouse;
and if they regard not themselves or Garments, their Husbands dislikes
rthem; For though men will swear to their wives they like them better in
their old cloaths, than other women in their glorious Apparrel; because
they would not have them expensive, yet if their wives neglect themselves,
regarding not their dressing, but sleights all outward Adornmentss, and change
of Garments as prodigal spend-thrifts, they starve their Husbands esteem in
their thrifty plainness, Consumes their affections in their peiced Petticoates,
and buries their Husbands love in their dirty raggs; And from the
Dunghill of dirty raggs, and grave of foul Linnen, is their Husbands transformed
to beastly Adulteries, stealing by degrees out of one Form into another, as
from a doting Husband, to a fond Husband, from a fond to a discreet Husband,
from a discreet, to a careful Husband, from a careful, to a carelesse,
from a carelesse, to a disliking, from a disliking, to a hating, and then they begin
to wander; As first, an eye glances, from an eye glance, to an admirer,
from an admirer, to a professour, from a professour, to a dissembler; from a
dissembler, to an Adulterer; then for the dresses and garments of his Mistress,
First, from clean, to new; from new, to fine; from fine, to brave; from brave,
to glorious; from glorious to fantastical; from fantastical to profusely various
from profusely, various to any dirty Slut. But his wife (on the other
side, if his wife desires) appears handsome, and practises civil behaviour, and
endeavours to be fine, takes care to be cleanly, observes to be fashionable, her Hus- Ss1r 161
Husband straight becomes jealouse, although she doth this for his sake, and
to keep his affection, yet he thinks it is for the affection and sake of some
other man, which causeth private discontents, from private discontents to
quarreling disputes; from quarreling disputes, to publick exclamations, from
publick exclamations, to open defiance; from open defiance, to devorcement;
and though I cannot say this by, or from experience, having it only from relation,
yet I do as faithfully believe it, as if I were experienced therein:
On which faith, I made a vow never to marry, since I hear men are so
hard to please, and apt to change; wherefore if I were marryed, instead of
discoursing of several arguments, I should be groaning and sighing, and weeping,
with several pains and vexations; and instead of a silent solitary contemplation,
a clamorous quarrelsome conversation; instead of a peaceable life,
I should be alwayes in civil warrs; and instead of being happy, I should be miserable;
for mariage is like a ship, which always lyes on the roughest Bilows of
the Sea, rouling from side to side with discontents, sailing uncertainly, with
inconstancy, and various winds, But noble, civil, kind and affectionate Gentlemen,
as I have told you, I have made a vow never to marry, and surely marriage
is not so happy an estate, or so pleasing a condition of life, as to perswade
me to break my vow, neither can flattering Rhetorick, nor inticing beauty,
nor adoring, admiring, deploring, praying, weeping Suters perswade me, no,
not a bleeding Suter, were I sure he would dye, did he not enjoy me; for I
will never be so dishonourable, perjurious, and impious, to break the holy
Laws, and pull the Virgin Altars down, built in the conscience, on which are
vows offered to Gods on high: Should I blow out that with faint inconstancy,
that pure bright Vestal Fire of innocency, from whence the Essence of
chast thoughts ascends to Heaven high; But rather than I would break my
vow, I wish my ears as deaf as death, that hears no flattering sounds, nor sad
complaints, nor terrifying threats, my eyes as dark as night, least light should
bring some false deluding object in, for to deceive me; my heart like Adamant,
so hard love cannot enter, nor pity nor compassion wound; but howsoever,
I coannot be wife to you all; wherefore since I cannot be every mans
wife, I will dye every mans Maid. But I must tell this Noble Assembly,
their meeting hath occasioned a quarrel here; for bashfulnesse, and confidence
hath fought a Duel in my Cheeks, and left the staines of bloud
there.

After her Respects. Ex. All her Audience, her Lovers goeth out silently, some lifting up their
eyes; others their hands, some striking their hands on their
breast, and the like.
Ex. Ss Scene
Ss1v 162

Scene. 6.

Enter the Lady Innocence alone.

The Lady Innocence,[Speaker label not present in original source]

Whilst I was in his favour, my mind was like a pleasant Garden, where several
Phancies like several Birds, did make sweet melody; and in this Garden
a large, high Tree of Noble ambition grew; whereon hung fruits of hopes, but
low misfortunes now hath cut it down, and therewithall have built a house, where
melancholly dwels, darkened with Clouds of discontents, and winds of sighs, and showers
of tears, doth blow and powre thereon.

She weeping and sighing. Ex.

Scene. 7

Enter the Lady Incontinent, and the Lord de l’Amour.

Lady Incontinent

Faith you will be well wived, for your affianced is
known to be a Lyer, and feared she will be a Whore, and proved a Thief.

Lord de l’Amour

How, a Thief?

Lady Incontinent

Why, she hath stolen my Pearl Chain worth a thousand
Pounds.

Lord de l’Amour

Tis impossible.

Lady Incontinent

It is not impossible to prove a Thief.

Lord de l’Amour

No, for there is too many to misse; but sure it is impossible
she should prove one, she is so honourably born, and I never heard but
she was Vertuously bred.

Lady Incontinent

By your favour, Covetousnesse or Necessity, may tempt
Honourable Births, and corrupt minds, that with plenty would be honest enough.

Lord de l’Amour

I grant, misery may prove some Noble souls sprung from
Honourable stocks, yet not to be so wickedly base as to steal, although so unworthy
as to shark.

Lady Incontinent

Why, sharking is next Neighbour to stealing, or as near
Kindred as an Equivocation is to a Lye.

Lord de l’Amour

But she was never so necessitated, as to make her either a
shark, or a Thief, having alwayes plenty.

Lady Incontinent

But she is covetous, and youth that is fond of all things
they see, desires to enjoy all things they have not, and will endeavour by any
means or wayes to compass their desires.

Lord de l’Amour

I never found my Youth prompt to any such Acts.

Lady Incontinent

Without more discourse, she hath stole my Chain, and
I can prove it.

She goeth out alone. Lord de l’Amour Ss2r 163 Lord de l’Amour alone

The Lord de L’amour.[Speaker label not present in original source]

Tis strange, I know not what to think, or how to judge, which of the two Ladies is
a Divel; for surely one of them is.

Ex.

Act III.

Scene 8.

Enter two Gentlemen.

1 Geentleman

The Lady Sanspareile is the miracle of this age, the world
doth not parrallel her with the like; for her behaviour is graceful
and becoming, her Countenance modest and wise, her speech Majestical
and witty, yet grave and learned, and her Oratory is after a New
way.

2 Gent

It is reported, that there are many men come from all parts of
the world to hear her, aand those that cannot understand this Language, comes
only to see her, so famous is she to all the world.

1 Gent

She is a great Honour to our Nation.

2 Gent

I hear she doth intend to plead in the behalf of poor Suiters, and
hath asked leave of the Queen to be a pleader at the Barr, for all such as suffered
wrongs as injustices, and for such Clients as hath just causes, but hath
not means to follow the Law, as to fee the Lawyers, & she will plead for them
gratis.

1 Gent

It is a pious and Noble Act.

2 Gent

Also her Father hath challenged all the eloquent Oratours of our
Nation, to make Orations extemporately; likewise he hath challenged the
most famous Schollars and learned men to dispute with her.

1 Gent

Her Father is most doatingly fond of her.

2 Gent

He hath reason, and out of love to her he is building a very fine
Library, to lay in all her Works; for they say she writes much, and hath writ
many excellent Works.

1 Gent

She deserves a Statue for her self, as well as a Library for her
Works.

Ex. Ss2 Scene.
Ss2v 164

Scene 9.

Enter the Lady Innocence, and Adviser. the Lord
de l’Amours
Man.

Adviser

Madam, my Lord and the Lady Incontinent hath sent me to
tell you, you must come to be examined about the Chain.

Lady Innocence

I am so shrunk up with fear, that methinks I could thrust
my self into a Nut-shell to hide my self.

Adviser

Faith if you could, it would not conceal you; for they would
crack the Nut-shell and find you out.

Adviser goes out. Lady Innocence alone.

The Lady Innocence,[Speaker label not present in original source]

O that Innocency should tremble as much as guilt, with fear; but if they did but
know how little I value the riches of the world, they would not believe I should steal
so frivolous a thing.

Enter as to the Lady Innocence, the Lord de l’Amour, the Lady
Incontinent
, and a Justice; and the Ladies two Maids,
Informer and Falshood.

Lord de l’Amour

The Lady Incontinent hath brought a Justice, who hath
power to make you confesse.

She falls a shaking.

Lady Iuncontinent

You may perceive her guilty, she trembles and shakes &
looks so pale.

Lady Innocence

Pray judge me not guilty by my countenance, bring it
not as a witnesse against me, for the childish fears in my heart, causeth a trembling,
which like an Earthquake, shakes my body, and makes my breath as
pent up Air, that pants for passage, striving to get forth, and my innocent bashfulnesse,
or my bashful innocency, makes my eyes like perturbed lights, that
see nothing cleerly; my words to flow like rough and broken streams; for
my mind is so troubled, and my passions in such a storm, as my words can neither
flow easie, nor free.

Lady Incontinent

Here be two that will witnesse that she stole the
Chhain.

Falshood

I will swear she took the Chain of Pearl, and put it in her pocket,
and so went out of the room with it.

Lord de l’Amour

Why did not you follow her, and take it from
her?

Falshood

I thought she would bring it again, for I never suspected she
would deny it.

Lord de l’Asmour

And will you witnesse the same Informer?

Informer

I will witnesse I saw it in her hand, looking on it.

Lord de l’Amour

What say you for your self Lady Innocence?

Lady Tt1r 165

Lady Innocence

I say my accusements doth not make me guilty of a crime;
but I confess I took the Chain in my hand, out of a curiosity, and trial of my
judgment or skill, to see whether I could find any defect, in somuch valued,
esteemed, and high-prized a thing as Pearl; but not any wayes out of a covetous
Appetite, as to steal it, nor had I any tempting thoughts thereto, nor
wisht I that or the like should be lawfully given me.

Lord de l’Amour

What did you with it, when you had done viewing it?

Lady Innocence

I laid it on the Table from whence I took it off.

Lady Incontinent

But here are those that will swear you carried it away
with you.

Maids

Yes that we will.

Lady Innocence

I cannot alwayes avoid a false accusation.

Lord de l’Amour

Will you swear you did not?

Lady Innocence

Yes, If my Oath will be taken.

Lady Incontinent

Well, you did take it that is certain, wherefore you
were best confess it, or you shall be wrackt to make you confess it.

Lady Innocence

I will never bear false-witness against my self; I will dye
first.

Lady Incontinent

My Lord, pray let her be carried away, and be whipt,
until she be forced to confess it.

Lady Innocence

Let me killed first: for to be whipt is base, and is only fit
for Gally-slaves, or those that are born from Slaves; but to be kill’d is Noble,
and gives an Honourable triumph.

Justice

Young Lady, you are heer accus’d by two Witnesses, and unless you
can bring Evidence to clear you, you are liable to punishment.

Lady Innocence

Truly Sir, I have but two invisible Witnesses, Conscience
and Innocency, to plead for me, and Truth my Judge, who cannot be brib’d,
although it may be over-powr’d, by false and slanderous reports.

Justice

But it is imagin’d by your best friends, you are guilty.

Lady Innocence

Neither my friends, nor enemies, can create me a Criminal,
with their Imaginations.

Lord de l’Amour

But speak, are you guilty?

Lady Innocence

To what purpose should I speak? for what can I say to
those that make it their delight to accuse, condemn, and execute? or what
justice can I expect to have, where there is no equity? wherefore, to plead
were a folly, when all hopes are cut off; to desire life, a double misery, if I
must indure Torments; but silence, and patience, shall be my two Companions,
the one to help me in my suffering, the other to cut of impertinencies.

She goes out from them.

Lord de l’Amour

What think you Justice, is she guilty?

Lady Incontinent

Why should you make a question, when it hath been
proved by Witnesses? Come Justice, Come, and drink a Cup of Sack, and
give your opinion then.

The Lady Innocence comes, as passing by, alone.

Lady Innocence

I am so confidently accus’d of this Theft, as I am half perswaded
I did take the Chain, but that Honour and Honesty sayes I did not.

Ex. Tt Scene 10.
Tt1v 166

Scene 10.

Enter Sir Thomas Father Love at one door, and a servant-Maid
at the other door.

Sir Thomas Father Love

Where is your Mistris? the people do flock about
the house to see her, as I think they will pull it upon my head if she
shews not her self to them, wherefore call her.

The Maid goes out. Enter the Lady Sanspareile.

Sir Thomas Father Love

Come, Come Child, there are such expectations
without for thee; but what makes thee to look so heavy?

Lady Sanspareile

Truly Sir, I am not well.

Sir Thomas Father Love

Not well? Heaven bless thee; where art thou Sick?

Lady Sanspareile

I cannot say I am very sick, or in any great pain; but I
find a general alteration in me, as it were a fainting of spirits.

Sir Thomas Father Love

Prethee say not so, thou dost so affright me; but
thou art not very sick, art thou?

Lady Sanspareile

I hope I shall be better Sir.

Sir Thomas Father Love

My dear Child go to bed, whilst I send for some
Doctors to thee.

Ex.

Scene 11.

Enter the Lady Innocence, alone.

The Lady Innocence,[Speaker label not present in original source]

To whom shall I powre out my sad complaint? for all do shun a Melancholy
mind. O Gods! how willingly would I be buried in the grave
with dust, and feast the worms, rather than live amongst mankind! Oh! Oh!
that these Melancholy damps arising from my afflicted Soul could extinguish
the Lamp of life, or that my sad and grieved thoughts that feed upon my
troubled Spirits, could bite with sorrows teeth, the thread of life asunder.

She sits down on the ground, leaning her Cheek on her hand, and weeps. Enter to her, her Maid Passive.

Passive

My sweet Mistriss, why do you weep?

Lady Innocence

The spring of grief doth send forth streams of tears to
wash off my disgrace, and the foul spots which slandring tongues have stain’d,
or rather slain’d my reputation; for which my eyes, did they not weep,
would seem unnaturally unkind; but my dead reputation is imbalm’d with
salt tears, bitter groans, shrowded in sorrows, and intomb’d in misery.

Passive

My dear Lady, you are imbalm’d with the pretious gums of Virtue, Tt2r 167
Virtue, and sweet spices of wit wrapt up in youth and beauty, and are intombed,
or rather inthroned in honest hearts; wherefore waste not your self with
grief; for certainly the world will condemn your Accusers, and not you.

Lady Innocence

Those feeble hopes cannot my spirits uphold, they give
no light of comfort to my mind; for black despair, like Melancholy night,
muffles my thoughts, and makes my Soul as blind. O but why do I thus
mourn in sad complaints, and do not curse Fortune, Fates, and destiny, their
Wheels, there spindel, threads, and Chains?

She heaves up her hands, and lifts up her eyes.

May Nature great, turn all again to nought,

That nothing may with joy receive a thought.

She goes out in a very Melancholy posture. Passive alone.

Passive,[Speaker label not present in original source]

She is deeply Melancholy, Heavens ease her mind.

Ex.

Scene 12.

Enter 2. or 3. Doctors.

1. Doctor

The Lady Sanspareile cannot live, for she hath no pulse.

2. Doctor

No, she is descending to the grave.

3. Doctor

But had we best tell her Father so?

1. Doctor

No, by no means as yet.

2. Doctor

Why not? he will know when she is dead.

Enter the Lady Mother Love, as to the Doctors.

Lady Mother Love

Mr. Doctors, What, do you mean to let my Daughter
dye? will you not prescribe something to give her?

1. Doctor

Madam, we shall do our best, you may be confident.

Lady Mother

What if you prescribed a Glister, or a Purge?

1. Doctor

It shall not need Madam.

Lady Mother

Why, if any one be sick, they ought to have some remedies
applyed to them:

2. Doctor

We shall consider what course is best to be taken.

Lady Mother Love

For Gods sake do not neglect her.

Ex. Enter Sir Thomas Father Love, to the Doctors.

Sir Thomas Father Love

Mr. Doctors, what is your opinion of my Daughter?

1. Doctor

Truly Sir, she is very dangerous sick.

Sir Thomas Father Love

I can find no pulse she hath.

2. Doctor

Nor we Sir, that makes us doubt her.

Father Love

Pray consult about her what is best to be done.

1. Doctor

We shall Sir.

Ex. Tt2 Scene 13.
Tt2v 168

Scene 13.

Enter the Lord de l’Amour, and the Lady Innocence.

Lord de l’Amour

What makes you look so gastly pale?

Lady Innocence

I am so ashamed of my accusation, as my bashfullness is
beyond all blushing, as greatest griefs are beyond all tears, it causes my limbs
to tremble, face look pale, like Death’s assault, making my courage fail.

Lord de l’Amour

Perchance you are asham’d to confess so base a crime;
you may confess to me, for I shall strive to hide your faults, and cover them
with some excuse; wherefore confess; for though it be a fault to steal, yet it
is a double fault to hide it with a Lye, and by these crimes you do offend the
Gods; nor will their anger be remov’d, unless you confess and ask pardon.

Lady Innocence

Your Doctrine is very good, and Application well applied,
had I been Guilty; but being Innocent, they are vainly utterd.

Lord de l’Amour

I hope you will agree to resign the interest you have to
me, if I should desire you.

Lady Innocence

Saints never offred up their Souls to God more willingly,
than I all interest to you; not but that I love you, yet I should be loath to
be bound to one that hath so ill an opinion of me, as you have.

Lord de l’Amour

The World would condemn me, if I should marry you,
to stain my Posterity with your Crimes.

Lady Innocence

O Heavens, is my scandal of so deep a dye, as to stain Predecessors
and Posterity! yours may avoid it, but my Predecessors are spotted
all over.

She goes out weeping.

Lord de l’Amour

I cannot chuse but love her, although I fear she is guilty;
but I perceive she is resolv’d not to confess, as being asham’d of it.

Ex.

Scene. 14.

Enter the Lady Sanspareile in a bed, as being sick, the bed
drawn on the stage, and her Father kneels by the
bed-side whilst she speaks as dying.

Sanspareile

Let spotless Virgins bear me to my grave, and holy Anthems
sing before my Herse, and soft-toucht Instruments to play the
while, and keep just time with tears, that trickling fall from the sad eyes of
my most sorrowful friends; and one my Coffin spread upon a covering of
smooth Sattin, white, to signify here how I lived a Virgin, pure I lived and dyed;
and let my works which I have wrought, and spun out of my brain, be
given to times Library, to keep alive my name.

And set a Lilly-Garland on my Herse,

On every leaf therein, stick on a verse;

And Uu1r 169

And when my Coffin to the grave you bring,

Let Poets on my Herse some verses fling.

For whilst I liv’d I worship’d Nature great,

And Poets are by Nature favoured.

I in the Muses Arms desire to Dye,

For I was bred up in their Company:

And my request’s to them, when I am dead,

I may amongst them be remembered.

But death drawes near, my destiny is come; Father farewell: may time
take up my years, which death cuts off, and add them to your life:
Peace keep your mind, and Comfort give you rest.

He weeps.

But why do you weep dear Father? my life’s not worth your tears; yet
Heavens doe weep, and mingle with dull earth their Cristal streams, and
earth’s refresht thereby; so is not death, for death is ever dry.

Father

O Child! O Child! my heart will break.

Sanspareile

Sir, why do you sigh and groan, and grieve, that I must dye?
life is perpetual, and death is but a change of shape.

Only I wish that Death may order it so,

That from your rootes I may your flower grow.

I fear not Death, nor am I loath to dye:

Yet I am loath to leave your Company.

But O the Muses stay my dying lips to close.
Farewel

Dyes. Her Father starts up from her Bed-side, and stares about the Bed; and
the dead Lady is drawn off the stage.

Father

What art thou fled? dear Soul where dost thou goe? stay and I
will bear thee Company.

Stares about.

Where art thou Soul? why mak’st thou such great haste? I pray thee stay,
and take thy aged Fathers Soul along with thee, lest it should wander in the
dark and gloomy shades to find thee out. O! O death! quick dispatch,
Let me unprisoned be, my body is old, decayed and worn, times ruins shews
it. Oh! Oh! let life fall, for pitty pull it down. stops a time Am I not
dead? you cruel powers above, to lengthen out an old mans life in misery and
pain; why did not Time put out the sight of both my eyes, and also deaf my
ears, that I might neither hear, nor see, the death of my lifes joy? O Luxurious
Death, how greedily thou feedst on youth and beauty, and letst old Age hang
withering on lifes tree? O shake me off, let me no longer grow; if not,
grief shall by force snip off my tender stalk, and pitty lay me in the silent
grave. Heark, Heark, I hear her call me? I come, I come Childe.

He feches a great sigh.

O no, she is gone, she is gone, I saw her dead; her head hung down, like
as a Lilly, whose stalk was broke by some rude blusterous wind.

He stares about.

There, there I see her on her dutious knee; Her humble eyes cast to the
ground; Her spotlesse hands held up for blessings crave, asking forgivenesse
for faults not done. O no, She is dead! She is dead! I saw her eye-lids cloze Vu like Uu1v 170
like watry Clouds, which joyn to shut out the bright Sun; and felt her hands
which Death made cold and numb, like as to Cristal balls; She is gone, she is
gone, and restless grows my mind; thoughts strive with thoughts, & struggle in
my brain, passions with passions in my heart make War.

My Spirits run like furies all about;

Help help for Heavens sake, and let life out.

Ex.

Scene 15.

Enter the Lady Mother Love alone.

Lady Mother Love

O my daughter! my daughter is dead, she is dead.
Oh that ever I was born to bear a Childe to dye before me. Oh she was
the Comfort of my Heart, the pleasure of my Eyes, the delight of my life.
Oh she was Good, she was Sweet, she was Fair. O what shall I do, what
shall I do?

Ex.

Scene 16.

Enter Sir Thomas Father Love, half distracted.

Sir Thomas Father Love

Mercury lend me thy winged feet, that I may fly
to Heaven, there to observe, how all the Gods and Godesses doe gaze
upon my Beautiful Childe; for she is fairer than the light that great Apollo
gives; and her discourse more ravishing than the Musick of the Spheres; but
as soon as she sees me, she will leave them all, and run unto me, as she used to
do, kneeling will kiss my hands, which she must not do, being a Goddess, and
I a Mortal, wherefore, I must kneel to her, and carry her an offering; but
what shall the offering be? Let me think. Why I will kneel and offer up my
Aged life unto her Memory; but now I think of it better, I cannot dye in
Heaven; wherefore, let me Study, let me Study, what she did love best
when she lived upon the Earth; O I now remember, when I did ask her
what she lov’d best, she would Answer, her Father and her Fame; but I
believe, if she were here it would be a hard Question for her to resolve,
which she preferr’d; and being not to be separated in Affection, we will
not part in our Resurrection; wherefore Mercury farewel: for I will fly up
with the Wings of her good Fame.

And carry up her Wit, and there will strow

It on Heavens floor, as bright as Stars will show;

Her Innocency shall make new Milky-waies,

Her Virtue shall Create new Worlds to praise

Her never-dying Name.

Ha, Ho! It shall be so, it shall be so.

Ex. Act IV.
Uu2r 171

Act IV.

Scene 17.

Enter the Lady Innocence alone, studious, with her eyes to the
ground, then casting them up speaks.

Lady Innocence

I am not so much in love with the World, as to desire to
live, nor have I offended Heaven so much, as to be afraid to dye; then
why should I prolong my life, when Honour bids me dye? for what Noble
Soul had not rather part with the Body, than live in Infamy? Then tis not
Death that affrights me, and yet I find my Soul is loath to leave its bodily
Mansion; but O to be buried in Oblivions grave is all I fear; no Monumental
Fame, nor famous Monument, my Soul displeases, that makes it loath to
leave the body in forgotten dust, whilst it doth sadly wander in the Aire.

She walks a turn or two as in a musing thought, then speaks.

Soul be at ease, for the Memory of the dead is but like a dying Beauty,
vades by degrees, or like a Flower whither’d, hath neither Sent, Colour, nor
Tast, but moulders into dust: so hath the mind no form of what is past.

But like as formless heaps those Objects lye,

And are intomb’d in the dark Memory.

O Foolish Vanity, to be so much a slave to Fame, since those that Fame
doth love the best, and favoureth most, are not Eternal. Wherefore

Nature perswades me to release my woe,

Though foolish Superstition Natures foe

Forbids it, yet Reason aloud sayes dye;

Since Ease, Peace, Rest, doth in the grave still lye.

Walkes about as in a silent musing, then speaks.

I am resolv’d, then Come sweet Death, thou friend that never fails, give
me my liberty. But stay my hasty resolution; for I would not willingly go to
the grave as beasts doe, without Ceremony; for I being friendless, those humane
Funeral rites will be neglected, none will take the pains, nor be at the
charge to see them perform’d; but some base vulgar person will throw me
into the Earth without respect or regard; wherefore I will Living perform
the Ceremonies, and as a guess or friend be at my own Funeral; it shall be
so, and I will prepare it.

Ex. Vu2 Scene 18.
Uu2v 172

Scene 18.

Enter Sir Thomas Father Love alone, and for a time
walkes as in a musing or thinking, with his eyes cast
on the ground, then speaks.

Father Love

Multitudes of Melancholy thoughts croud in my brain,

And run to pull down Reason from his Throne;

Fury as Captain leads the way,

Patience and Hope is trod upon:

O these distracted thoughts hurrie my Soul about,

Seeking a place to get a passage out.

But all the Ports are stopp’d. O Cursed Death, for to prolong a life that
is so weary of its Mansion.

Enter Mr. Comfort Sir Thomas Father Loves friend.

Friend

Sir, will you give order for your Daughters Funeral, and direct
how you will have her interred?

Father Love

How say you? why I will have you rip my body open, and
make it as a Coffin to lay her in, then heave us gently on sighs fetcht deep,
and lay us on a Herse of sorrowful groans, then cover us with a Dark, Black,
Pitchy, Spungy Cloud, made of thick Vapour, drawn from bleeding hearts;
from whence may tears of showers run powring down, making a Sea to
drown remembrance in.

But O remembrance, is a fury grown,

Torments my Soul, now she is gone.

Friend

Sir, where there is no remedy, you must have patience.

Father Love

Patience, out upon her, she is an Idle lazy Gossip, and keeps
none Company but Cowards and Fools, and slothful conscientious Persons;
neither is she usefull but for indifferent imployments: for what is of extraordinary
worth, Patience doth but disgrace it, not set it forth; for that which is
transcendent and Supreme, Patience cannot reach. Wherefore give me Fury,
for what it cannot raise to Heaven, it throwes it straight to Hell; were you never
there?

Friend

No, nor I hope shall never come there.

Father Love

Why Sir, I was there all the last Night, and there I was tortured
for chiding my Daughter two or three times whilst she lived; once
because she went in the Sun without her Mask; another time because her
Gloves were in her Pocket, when they should have been on her Hands; and
another time, because she slep’d when she should have studied, and then I
remember she wept. O! O! those pretious tears! Devil that I was to grieve
her sweet Nature, harmless Thoughts, and Innocent Soul. O how I hate my
self, for being so unnaturally kind. O kill me, and rid me of my painful life.

Friend

He is much distracted, Heaven cure him.

Exeunt. Scene 3519.
Xx1r 173

Scene 1819.

Enter two Gentlemen.

1. Geentleman

The Miracle is deceas’d, the Lady Sanspareile I hear is
dead.

2. Gent

Yes, and it’s reported her Statue shall be set up in every College,
and in the most publick places in the City, at the publick charge; and the
Queen will build a Sumptuous and Glorious Tomb on her sleeping
Ashes.

1. Gent

She deserves more than can be given her.

2. Gent

I hear her death hath made her Father mad.

1. Gent

Though her death hath not made every one mad like her Father,
yet it hath made every one melancholy; for I never saw so general a sadness
in my life.

2. Gent

There is nothing moves the mind to sadnesse, more than when
Death devours Youth, Beauty, Wit, and Virtue all at once.

Ex.

Scene 1920.

There is a Hearse placed upon the Stage, covered with black, a Garland of
Ciprus at the head of the Herse, and a Garland of Mirtle at one side, and
a Basket of Flowers on the other.
Enter the Lady Innocence alone, drest in White, and her hair bound up in
several coloured Ribbons; when she first comes in speaks thus.

Lady Innocence

O Nature, thou hast created bodies and minds subject
to pains & torments, yet thou hast made death to release them! for though
Death hath power over Life, yet Life can command Death when it will;
for Death dares not stay, when Life would passe away; Death is the Ferryman,
and Life the Wastage.

She kneels down and prayeth

The Lady Innocence,[Speaker label not present in original source]

But here great Nature, I do pray to thee,

Though I call Death, let him not cruel be:

Great Jove I pray, when in cold earth I lye,

Let it be known how innocent I die.

Then she rises and directs her self to her Herse. These Verses
the Lord
Marquesse

writ.

The Lady Innocence,[Speaker label not present in original source]

Here in the midst my sadder Hearse I see;

Covered with black, though my chief Mourners be,

Yet I am white, as innocent as day,

As pure as spotlesse Lillies born in May;

My loose and flowing hair with Ribbons ty’d,

To make Death Amorous of me, now his Bride;

Xx Watchet Xx1v 174

Watchet for truth, hair-colour for despair,

And white as innocent as purest Ayre;

Scarlet for cruelty to stop my breath,

Darkning of Nature, black, a type of death.

Then she takes up the Basket of Flowers, and as she strews them speaks.

The Lady Innocence,[Speaker label not present in original source]

Roses and Lillies ’bout my Coffin strew,

Primroses, Pinks, Violets fresh and new:

And though in deaths cold arms anon I lye weeps

I’le weep a showr of tears these may not dye.

A Ciprus Garland here is for my head,

To crown me Queen of Innocence, when dead;

A Mirtle Garland on the left side plac’t,

To shew I was a Lover; pure & chast;

Now all my saddest Rites being thus about me,

And I have not one wish that is without me.

She placeth her self on her Herse, with a Dagger or pointed
knife in her hand.

The Lady Innocence,[Speaker label not present in original source]

Here on this Herse I mount the Throne of death,

Peace crown my soul, my body rest on earth:

Yet before I dye,

Like to a Swan I will sing my Elegie.

She sings as she is sitting on the Herse, thus. This Song
the Lord
Marquesse

writ.

The Lady Innocence,[Speaker label not present in original source]

Life is a trouble at the best,

And in it we can find no rest;

Joyes still with sorrows they are Crown’d,

No quietnesse till in the ground.

Man vexes man, still we do find,

He is the torture of his kind:

False man I scorn thee in my grave

Death come, I call thee as my slave.

Here ends my Lords Writing. And just then stabs her self. In the mean time the Lord de l’Amour comes and peeps through the Curtain, or
Hanging, and speaks as to himself, whilst she is a dying.

Lord de l’Amour

I will observe how she passes away her time, when she
is alone.

Lady Innocence

Great Jove grant that the light of Truth may not be put
out, with the extinguisher of Malice.

Lord de l’Amour

How she feeds her melancholy!

He enters and goeth to her.

What are you acting a melancholy Play by your self alone?

Lady Innocence

My part is almost done.

Lord Xx2r 165175

Lord de l’Amour

By Heaven she hath stabb’d her self.

Calls “Help, Help”

Lady Innocence

Call not for help, life is gone so farr tis past recovery;
wherefore stay and hear my last words; I die, as judging it unworthy to
out-live my honest Name, and honourable Reputation. As for my accusers,
I can easily forgive them, because they are below my Hate or Anger, neither
are worthy my revenge; But you, for whom I had not only a devout, but an
Idolatrous Affection, which offered with a zealous Piety and pure Flame
the sincerity of my heart; But you, instead of rewarding my Love, was cruel
to my life and Honour, for which my soul did mourn under a Veil of sadnesse,
and my thoughts covered with discontent sate weeping by: But those
mourning Thoughts I have cast off, cloathing my self with Deaths pale Garments;
As for my pure Reputation, and white Simplicity, that is spotted with
black Infamy by Hellish slander, I have laid them at Heavens Gates, just
Gods to scoure them clean, that all the World may know how innocent I
have been: But Oh! farewel, my fleeting Spirits pure Angels bear away.

Lord de l’Amour

O speak at the last! Are you guilty or not?

Lady Innocence

I am no more guilty of those crimes laid to my charge,
than Heaven is of sin.

O Gods receive me. Oh! Oh!

Dies.

Lord de l’Amour

Great Patience assist me; Heart hold life in,

Till I can find who is guilty of this sinn.

Ex. The Herse drawn off the Stage.

Scene. 2021.

Enter Sir Thomas Father Love, brought in a Chair as sick,
his Friend by him.

Mr. Comfort Friend

How are you now?

Father Love

O Friend! I shall now be well, Heaven hath pitty on
me, and will release me soon; and if my Daughter be not buryed, I would
have her kept as long out of the Grave as she can be kept, that I might bear
her company.

Friend

She cannot be kept longer, because she was not unbowelled.

Father Love

Who speaks her Funeral Oration?

Friend

Why Sir, your distemper hath so disordered all your Family, as
it was not thought of.

Father Love

She shall not go to the Grave without due Praises, if I have
life to speak them: Wherefore raise me up, and carry me to the Holy place
before her Herse, thus in my Chair, sick as I am; For I will speak her Funeral
Oration, although with my last words, Thus will I be carryed living to
my Grave.

He is carried out in a Chair by Servants. Ex. Xx2 Scene
Xx2v 176

Scene. 2122.

Enter the Lord de l’Amour alone, as in a Melancholy
humour.

Lord de l’Amour

When I do think of her, my mind is like a tempestuous
Sea, which foams and roars, and roles in Billows high; My brain
like to a Ship is wracked, and in its ravenous Waves my heart is drowned;
And as several winds do blow, so several thoughts do move; some like
the North with cold and chilly Fears; others as from the South of hot Revenge
do blow;

As from the East despairing storms do rise,

A Western grief blows tears into mine eyes.

Walks about, and weeps. Enter Master Charity his Friend.

Mr. Charity

My Lord, why are you so melancholy for that which is
past, and cannot be help’d?

Lord de l’Amour

Oh! the remembrance of her death, her cruel death, is
like the Infernal Furies, torments my soul, gives it no ease nor rest; For sometimes
my soul is flung into a Fire of Rage,

That burns with furious pain,

And then with frozen despair it rips it up again.

But I unjust and credulous, I was the cause of her untimely death.

Enter the Maid that accused her.

Falshood

O my Lord, forgive me, for I have murdered the innocent Lady
you grieve for; for my false Accusation was the hand that guided the dagger
to her heart; but my Ladies command was the Thief that stole the
Chain, for she commanded me to take the Chain, and accuse the Lady of
the Theft, for which she gave me the Chain for a reward; This I will witnesse
by oath unto you and all the World; For it is heavier than a world upon
my Conscience.

Lord de l’Amour

Why did your Lady so wicked an act?

Falshood

Through Jealousie, which bred Envy, Envy Malice, Malice
Slander, and this Slander hath produced Murder.

Enter Informer, the other Maid.

Informer

Oh my Lady! My Lady hath hanged her self; for when she
heard Falshood was gone to tell your Lordship the truth of the Chain, she
went into a base place and hung her self; and upon her breast I found this
written Paper.

She gives it de l’Amour to read.

Lord de l’Amour

It is the Lady Incontinents Hand-writing.

He reads it.

“I have been false to my Marriage-bed, lived impudently in the sin of Adultery, in Yy1r 177
in the publick face of the World; I have betray’d the trust imposed to my charge,
slandered the Innocent, poysoned the Instrument I imployed, Falshood. All which
being summ’d up, was worthy of hanging.”

Falshood falls down dead.

Lord de l’Amour

She hath sav’d me a labour, and kept my Heroick Honour
free from the stains of having laid violent hands on the Effeminate
Sex.

Friend

What shall be done with this dead Body?

Lord de l’Amour

Let her Ladies body, with hers, be thrown into the
Fields, to be devoured of Beasts.

Ex.

Act V.

Scene 2223.

Enter the Funeral Herse of the Lady Sanspareile, covered with
white Satine; a silver Crown is placed in the midst; her Herse
is born by six Virgins all in white, other Virgins goe before
the Herse, and strew Flowers, white Lillies, and white Roses:
The whilst this Song is sung.
This Song
was writ by
the Lord
Marquesse
.

Singer[Speaker label not present in original source]

Spotlesse Virgins as you go,

Wash each step as white as Snow,

With pure Chrystal streams, that rise

From the Fountain of your eyes.

Fresher Lillies like the day

Strew, and Roses as white as they;

As an Emblem to disclose

This Flower sweet; short liv’d as those.

The whilst her Father is carryed as sick in a Chair, the Chair covered with
black, and born black by Mourners, he himself also in close Mourning; when
they have gone about the Stage
The Herse is set neer to the Grave, there being one made. Then the Father is placed in his Chair, upon a raised place for that purpose,
the raised place also covered with Black; he being placed, speaks her Funeral
Sermon.

Father Love

Most Charitable and Noble Friends, that accompany the
Dead Corps to the Grave, I must tell you, I am come here, although I am as
a Dead Man to the World, yet my desire is to make a living Speech, before
I go out of the world, not only to divulge the Affections I had for my Daughter,
but to divulge her Virtue, Worth, and good Graces; And as it is the custome
for the nearest Kindred, or best and constantest Friends, or longest acquaintance,
to speak their Funeral Oration, wherein I take my self to be all, Yy where- Yy1v 179178
wherefore most fit to speak her Funeral Oration; For I being her Father,
am her longest acquaintance, and constantest Friend, and nearest in Relation,
wherefore the, fitest to declare unto the world my natural and Fatherly Love,
Death will be a sufficient witnesse; For though I am old, yet I was healthful
when she lived, but now I cannot live many hours, neither would I, for
Heaven knows, my affections struggle with Death, to hold Life so long as to
pay the last Rites due to her dead Corps, struck by Death’s cruel Dart: But
most Noble and Charitable Friends, I come not here with eys fil’d with salt
tears; for sorows thirsty Jaws hath drunk them up, sucked out my blood, & left
my Veins quite dry, & luxuriously hath eat my Marow out; my sighs are spent
in blowing out Life’s Fire, only some little heat there doth remain, which
my affections strive to keep alive to pay the last Rites due to my dead Child,
which is, to set her praises forth, for living Virtuously; But had I Nestors
years, ’twould prove too few, to tell the living Stories of her Youth, for
Nature in her had packed up many Piles of Experience, of Aged times, besides,
Nature had made her Youth sweet, fresh and temperate, as the Spring;
and in her brain, Flowers of Fancies grew, Wits Garden set by Natures
hand, wherein the Muses took delight, and entertained themselves therein,
Singing like Nightingales, late at Night; or like the Larks ere the day begin;
Her thoughts were as the Cœlestial Orbes, still moving circular without base
ends, surrounding the Center of her Noble mind, which as the Sun gave
light to all about it; her Virtues twinkled like the fixed Starrs, whose motion
stirs them not from their fix’d place; and all her Passions were as other
starres, which seemed as only made to beautifie her Form; But Death hath
turned a Chaos of her Form, which life with Art and Care had made, and
Gods had given to me: O cursed death, to rob and make me poor! Her life
to me was like a delightful Mask, presenting several interchanging Scenes, describing
Nature in her several Dresses, and every Dresse put in a several way;
Also her life was like a Monarchy, where Reason as sole King, did govern all
her actions; which actions, like as Loyal Subjects did obey those Laws which
Reason decreed; Also her life was like Joves Mansions high, as being placed
above this worldly Globe; from whence her Soul looked down on duller
earth, mixt not, but viewed poor mortals here below; thus was her life above
the world, because her life prized not the Trifles here; Perchance this
Noble Company will think I have said too much, and vainly, thus to
speak.

That Fathers should not praise their Children so,

Because that from their Root and Stock did grow;

Why may not Roots boast if their Fruites be good?

As hindering Worth in their own Flesh and blood,

Shall they dissemble, to say they are naught,

Because they are their own? sure that’s a fault

Unpardonable, as being a lye that’s told;

Detracting lyes, the baser lyes I hold.

Neither can strangers tell their life and worth,

Nor such affections have to set them forth,

As Parents have, or those thats neer of Kin,

Virtuous Partiality, sure that’s no sin,

And virtue, though she be lovliest when undrest

Yet Yy2r 178179

Yet she is pleas’d, when well she is exprest.

But Oh! my words have spent my stock of breath,

And Life’s commanded forth by powerful Death;

When I am dead, this company I pray,

The last rites done, me by my daughter lay;

And as her soul did with the Muses flye,

To imitate her in her a verse, I dye.

He falls back in his Chair and is dead.

Mr. Comfort

Noble Friends, you heard his request, which was, to be buryed
in his daughters grave; and whilst you show your charity, in laying the
Corps of his daughter in the grave, I will carry out his body, and put it into
a Coffin, and then lay him in the same grave.

The Company said, “Do so”. Goes out with the body. The whilst the Virgins take up the Lady Sanspareiles Herse, and whilst they
are putting it into the grave, this Song following was sung.
This Song
was writ by
the Lord
Marquesse
of New-castle.

Singer[Speaker label not present in original source]

Tender Virgins, as your Birth,

Put her gently in the earth

What of Moral, or Divine,

Here is lapt up in this shrine;

Rhetorick dumb Philosophy,

Both those arts with her did dye.

And grieved Poets cannot choose,

But lament for her their Muse.

When she was putting into the Grave, this Song following was sung.

Singer[Speaker label not present in original source]

Her Tomb, her Monument, her Name,

Beyond an Epitaph her Fame;

Death be not proud, imbracing more

Now, than in all thy reign before;

Boasting thy Triumphs, since thou must

But justly glory in her dust,

Let thy Dart rust, and lay it by,

For after her none’s fit to dye.

After this her Peal is Rung on Lutes, by Musicians. And the Company goes out.

Scene. 2324.

A Tomb is thrust on the Stage, then the Lord de l’Amour enters.

Lord de l’Amour

Now I am free, no hinderance to my own Tragedy.

He goeth to the Tomb.

This Tomb her sacred Body doth contain.

He draws his Sword, then he kneels down by the Tomb, and then prayes. Yy2 Dear Yy2v 180

Dear Soul, pardon my crimes to thee; they were crimes of ignorance, not
malice.

Sweet gentle Spirit, flye me not, but stay,

And let my Spirits walk thy Spirits way;

You lov’d me once, your Love in death renew,

And may our soules be as two Lovers true;

Our Blood’s the Bonds, our wounds the Seals to Print

Our new Contract, and Death a witnesse in’t He takes his Sword.

Had I as many lives as Poors in skin,

Ile sacrifize them for my ignorant sin.

As he speaks he falls upon his Sword. Enter his Friend, Master Charity. He seeing him lye all in blood, almost dead, runs to him, and heaves him up.

Friend

I did fear this, which made me follow him, but I am come too
late to save his life. O my Lord speak if you can!

Lord de l’Amour

Friend, lay me in this Tomb, by my affianced Wife; for
though I did not usher her to the grave, I will wait after her.

Dyes.

Epilogue.

Author[Speaker label not present in original source]

Noble Spectators, now you have seen this Play,

And heard it speak, let’s hear what now you say;

But various judgements, various sentences give,

Yet we do hope you’l sentence it may live.

But not in Prison be condemn’d to lye,

Nor whipt with censure, rather let it dye

Here on this Stage, and see the Funeral Rites,

Which is, to put out all the Candle lights.

And in the grave of darknesse let it rest,

In peace and quiet, and not molest

The harmlesse soul, which hopes Mercury may

Unto the Elizium fields it safe convey.

But if you sentence life, the Muses will

Attend it up unto Parnassus Hill.

If so, pray let your hands, here in this place,

Clap it, as an applause, the triumph grace.

Finis.