121 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
122 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
123 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 124 Hh2v124 ſtoms 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- 125 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 126 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, 127 Ii2r127 der, 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 128 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
129 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. 130 Kk1v 130

Sanſp

My dear Father, know it is fame I covet, for which were the ambitions of Alexander and Cæſar 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, 131 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, 132 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 133 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.
134 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
135 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- 136 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 137 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; 138 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, 139 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- 140 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. 141 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 142 Nn1v 142 taining 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 ſtrongillegiblep:pcaton.xzcof honour, and Land- Skips 143 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 144 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.

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
145 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 146 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 147 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 148 Oo2v 148 plaid 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 149 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 150 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 151 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 152 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 Cæſars 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.

153 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 154 Qq1v 154 Lady Innocence alone.

’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. 155 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 156 Qq2v 156 gets 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. 157 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.

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

Ex. Rr Scene 3.
158 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 159 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 160 Rr2v 160 fverſations, 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- 161 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
162 Ss1v 162

Scene. 6.

Enter the Lady Innocence alone.

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 163 Ss2r 163 Lord de l’Amour alone

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.
164 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.

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 165 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.
166 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.

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, 167 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.

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.
168 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 169 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 170 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.
171 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.
172 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.
173 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

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.

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 174 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.

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.

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.

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 175 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
176 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 177 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.

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- 178 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 179 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.

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.

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 180 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.

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.