EnterAlice,andValentine.
Alice.Howdearly welcome you are!Val.I know it,And my best Sister, you are as dear to my sight,And pray let this confirm it: how you have govern'dMy poor state in my absence, how my servants,I dare, and must believe, else I should wrong ye,The best and worthiest.Alice.As my womans wit, Sir,Which is but weak and crazie.Val.But goodAlice,Tell me how fares the gentleCellide,The life of my affection, since my travel,My long and lazie Travel? is her love stillUpon the growing hand? does it not stopAnd wither at my years? has she not view'dAnd entertain'd some younger smooth behaviour,Some Youth but in his blossom, as her self is?There lies my fears.Alice.They need not, for believe meSo well you have manag'd her, and won her mind,Even from her hours of childhood, to this ripeness,And in your absence, that by me enforc'd still,So well distill'd your gentleness into her,Observ'd her, fed her fancy, liv'd still in her,And though Love be a Boy, and ever youthful,And young and beauteous objects ever aim'd at,Yet here ye have gone beyond love, better'd nature,Made him appear in years, in grey years fiery,His Bow at full bent ever; fear not Brother,For though your body has been far off from her,Yet every hour your heart, which is your goodness,I have forc'd into her, won a place prepar'd too,And willingly to give it ever harbour;Believe she is so much yours, and won by miracle,(Which is by age) so deep a stamp set on herBy your observances, she cannot alter.Were the Child living now ye lost at SeaAmong theGenouaGallies, what a happiness!What a main Blessing!Val.O no more, good Sister,Touch no more that string, 'tis too harsh and jarring.With that Child all my hopes went, and you knowThe root of all those hopes, the Mother tooWithin few days.Alice.'Tis too true, and too fatal,But peace be with their souls.Val.For her lossI hope the beauteousCellide.Alice.You may, Sir,For all she is, is yours.Val.For the poor Boys loss,I have brought a noble friend, I found in Travel,A worthier mind, and a more temperate spirit,If I have so much judgment to discern 'em,Man yet was never master of.Alice.What is he?Val.A Gentleman, I do assure my self,And of a worthy breeding, though he hide it;I found him atValentia, poor and needy,Only his mind the master of a Treasure.I sought his friendship, won him by much violence,His honesty and modesty still fearingTo thrust a charge upon me; how I love him,He shall now know, where want and he hereafterShall be no more Companions, use him nobly,It is my will, good Sister, all I haveI make him free companion in, and partner,But only—Alice.I observe ye, hold your Right there,Love and high Rule allows no Rivals, Brother,He shall have fair regard, and all observance.
Alice.Howdearly welcome you are!
Val.I know it,And my best Sister, you are as dear to my sight,And pray let this confirm it: how you have govern'dMy poor state in my absence, how my servants,I dare, and must believe, else I should wrong ye,The best and worthiest.
Alice.As my womans wit, Sir,Which is but weak and crazie.
Val.But goodAlice,Tell me how fares the gentleCellide,The life of my affection, since my travel,My long and lazie Travel? is her love stillUpon the growing hand? does it not stopAnd wither at my years? has she not view'dAnd entertain'd some younger smooth behaviour,Some Youth but in his blossom, as her self is?There lies my fears.
Alice.They need not, for believe meSo well you have manag'd her, and won her mind,Even from her hours of childhood, to this ripeness,And in your absence, that by me enforc'd still,So well distill'd your gentleness into her,Observ'd her, fed her fancy, liv'd still in her,And though Love be a Boy, and ever youthful,And young and beauteous objects ever aim'd at,Yet here ye have gone beyond love, better'd nature,Made him appear in years, in grey years fiery,His Bow at full bent ever; fear not Brother,For though your body has been far off from her,Yet every hour your heart, which is your goodness,I have forc'd into her, won a place prepar'd too,And willingly to give it ever harbour;Believe she is so much yours, and won by miracle,(Which is by age) so deep a stamp set on herBy your observances, she cannot alter.Were the Child living now ye lost at SeaAmong theGenouaGallies, what a happiness!What a main Blessing!
Val.O no more, good Sister,Touch no more that string, 'tis too harsh and jarring.With that Child all my hopes went, and you knowThe root of all those hopes, the Mother tooWithin few days.
Alice.'Tis too true, and too fatal,But peace be with their souls.
Val.For her lossI hope the beauteousCellide.
Alice.You may, Sir,For all she is, is yours.
Val.For the poor Boys loss,I have brought a noble friend, I found in Travel,A worthier mind, and a more temperate spirit,If I have so much judgment to discern 'em,Man yet was never master of.
Alice.What is he?
Val.A Gentleman, I do assure my self,And of a worthy breeding, though he hide it;I found him atValentia, poor and needy,Only his mind the master of a Treasure.I sought his friendship, won him by much violence,His honesty and modesty still fearingTo thrust a charge upon me; how I love him,He shall now know, where want and he hereafterShall be no more Companions, use him nobly,It is my will, good Sister, all I haveI make him free companion in, and partner,But only—
Alice.I observe ye, hold your Right there,Love and high Rule allows no Rivals, Brother,He shall have fair regard, and all observance.
EnterHylas.
Hylas.You are welcome, noble Sir.Val.What, MonsieurHylas!I'm glad to see your merry Body well yet.Hyl.'Faith y'are welcome home, what news beyond seas?Val.None, but new men expected, such as you are,To breed new admirations; 'Tis my Sister,'Pray ye know her, Sir.Hylas.With all my heart; your leave Lady?Alice.You have it, Sir.Hylas.A shrewd smart touch, which does prognosticateA Body keen and active, somewhat old,But that's all one; age brings experienceAnd knowledge to dispatch: I must be better,And nearer in my service, with your leave, Sir,To this fair Lady.Val.What, the old 'squire of Dames still!Hyl.Still the admirer of their goodness; with all my heart now,I love a woman of her years, a pacerThat lays the bridle in her Neck, will travelForty, and somewhat fulsome is a fine dish.These young Colts are too skittish.
Hylas.You are welcome, noble Sir.
Val.What, MonsieurHylas!I'm glad to see your merry Body well yet.
Hyl.'Faith y'are welcome home, what news beyond seas?
Val.None, but new men expected, such as you are,To breed new admirations; 'Tis my Sister,'Pray ye know her, Sir.
Hylas.With all my heart; your leave Lady?
Alice.You have it, Sir.
Hylas.A shrewd smart touch, which does prognosticateA Body keen and active, somewhat old,But that's all one; age brings experienceAnd knowledge to dispatch: I must be better,And nearer in my service, with your leave, Sir,To this fair Lady.
Val.What, the old 'squire of Dames still!
Hyl.Still the admirer of their goodness; with all my heart now,I love a woman of her years, a pacerThat lays the bridle in her Neck, will travelForty, and somewhat fulsome is a fine dish.These young Colts are too skittish.
EnterMary.
Alice.My CousinMaryIn all her joy, Sir, to congratulateYour fair return.Val.My loving and kind Cousin,A thousand welcomes.Mary.A thousand thanks to heaven, Sir,For your safe voyage, and return.Val.I thank ye;But where's my BlessedCellide? her slacknessIn visitation.Mary.Think not so, dear Uncle,I left her on her knees, thanking the godsWith tears and prayers.Val.Ye have given me too much comfort.Mary.She will not be long from ye.Hyl.Your fair Cousin?Val.It is so, and a bait you cannot balk Sir,If your old rule reign in you, ye may know her:A happy stock ye have, right worthy Lady,The poorest of your servants vows his dutyAnd obliged faith.Mary.O 'tis a kiss you would, Sir,Take it, and tye your tongue up.Hylas.I am an AssI do perceive now, a blind Ass, a Blockhead;For this is handsomness, this that that draws usBody and Bones: Oh what a mounted forehead,What eyes and lips, what every thing about her!How like a Swan she swims her pace, and bearsHer silver Breasts! this is the Woman, she,And only she, that I will so much honourAs to think worthy of my love, all older IdolsI heartily abhor, and give to Gunpowder,And all Complexions besides hers, to Gypsies.
Alice.My CousinMaryIn all her joy, Sir, to congratulateYour fair return.
Val.My loving and kind Cousin,A thousand welcomes.
Mary.A thousand thanks to heaven, Sir,For your safe voyage, and return.
Val.I thank ye;But where's my BlessedCellide? her slacknessIn visitation.
Mary.Think not so, dear Uncle,I left her on her knees, thanking the godsWith tears and prayers.
Val.Ye have given me too much comfort.
Mary.She will not be long from ye.
Hyl.Your fair Cousin?
Val.It is so, and a bait you cannot balk Sir,If your old rule reign in you, ye may know her:A happy stock ye have, right worthy Lady,The poorest of your servants vows his dutyAnd obliged faith.
Mary.O 'tis a kiss you would, Sir,Take it, and tye your tongue up.
Hylas.I am an AssI do perceive now, a blind Ass, a Blockhead;For this is handsomness, this that that draws usBody and Bones: Oh what a mounted forehead,What eyes and lips, what every thing about her!How like a Swan she swims her pace, and bearsHer silver Breasts! this is the Woman, she,And only she, that I will so much honourAs to think worthy of my love, all older IdolsI heartily abhor, and give to Gunpowder,And all Complexions besides hers, to Gypsies.
EnterFrancisat one door, andCellideat another.
Val.O my dear life, my better heart, all dangers,Distresses in my travel, all misfortunes,Had they been endless like the hours upon me,In this kiss had been buried in oblivion;How happy have ye made me, truly happy!Cel.My joy has so much over mastered me,That in my tears for your return—Val.O dearest;My noble friend too! what a BlessednessHave I about me now! how full my wishesAre come again, a thousand hearty welcomesI once more lay upon ye; all I have,The fair and liberal use of all my servantsTo be at your command, and all the usesOf all within my power.Fran.Ye are too munificent,Nor am I able to conceive those thanks, Sir.Val.Ye wrong my tender love now, even my service,Nothing accepted, nothing stuck between usAnd our intire affections but this woman,This I beseech ye friend.Fran.It is a jewel,I do confess, would make a Thief, but neverOf him that's so much yours, and bound your servant,That were a base ingratitude.Val.Ye are noble,'Pray be acquainted with her, keep your way, Sir,My Cousin and my Sister.Alice.Ye are most welcome.Mary.If any thing in our poor powers, fair Sir,To render ye content, and liberal welcomeMay but appear, command it.Alice.Ye shall find usHappy in our performance.Fran.The poor ServantOf both your goodnesses presents his service.Val.Come, no more Complement; Custom has made itDull, old, and tedious; ye are once more welcomeAs your own thoughts can make ye, and the same ever.And so we'll in to ratifie it.Hyl.Hark ye,Valentine:Is wild Oats yet come over?Val.Yes, with me, Sir.Mary.How does he bear himself?Val.A great deal better;Why do you blush? the Gentleman will do well.Mary.I should be glad on't, Sir.Val.How does his father?Hyl.As mad a worm as e'er he was.Val.I lookt for't:Shall we enjoy your Company?Hyl.I'll wait on ye:Only a thought or two.Val.We bar all prayers.[Exeunt all butHylas.Hyl.This last Wench! I, this last wench was a fair one,A dainty Wench, a right one; a Devil take it,What do I ail? to have fifteen now in liking,Enough a Man would think to stay my stomach?But what's fifteen, or fifteen score to my thoughts?And wherefore are mine Eyes made, and have lights,But to encrease my Objects? This last WenchSticks plaguey close to me, a hundred poundI were as close to her; If I lov'd now,As many foolish men do, I should run mad.
Val.O my dear life, my better heart, all dangers,Distresses in my travel, all misfortunes,Had they been endless like the hours upon me,In this kiss had been buried in oblivion;How happy have ye made me, truly happy!
Cel.My joy has so much over mastered me,That in my tears for your return—
Val.O dearest;My noble friend too! what a BlessednessHave I about me now! how full my wishesAre come again, a thousand hearty welcomesI once more lay upon ye; all I have,The fair and liberal use of all my servantsTo be at your command, and all the usesOf all within my power.
Fran.Ye are too munificent,Nor am I able to conceive those thanks, Sir.
Val.Ye wrong my tender love now, even my service,Nothing accepted, nothing stuck between usAnd our intire affections but this woman,This I beseech ye friend.
Fran.It is a jewel,I do confess, would make a Thief, but neverOf him that's so much yours, and bound your servant,That were a base ingratitude.
Val.Ye are noble,'Pray be acquainted with her, keep your way, Sir,My Cousin and my Sister.
Alice.Ye are most welcome.
Mary.If any thing in our poor powers, fair Sir,To render ye content, and liberal welcomeMay but appear, command it.
Alice.Ye shall find usHappy in our performance.
Fran.The poor ServantOf both your goodnesses presents his service.
Val.Come, no more Complement; Custom has made itDull, old, and tedious; ye are once more welcomeAs your own thoughts can make ye, and the same ever.And so we'll in to ratifie it.
Hyl.Hark ye,Valentine:Is wild Oats yet come over?
Val.Yes, with me, Sir.
Mary.How does he bear himself?
Val.A great deal better;Why do you blush? the Gentleman will do well.
Mary.I should be glad on't, Sir.
Val.How does his father?
Hyl.As mad a worm as e'er he was.
Val.I lookt for't:Shall we enjoy your Company?
Hyl.I'll wait on ye:Only a thought or two.
Val.We bar all prayers.[Exeunt all butHylas.
Hyl.This last Wench! I, this last wench was a fair one,A dainty Wench, a right one; a Devil take it,What do I ail? to have fifteen now in liking,Enough a Man would think to stay my stomach?But what's fifteen, or fifteen score to my thoughts?And wherefore are mine Eyes made, and have lights,But to encrease my Objects? This last WenchSticks plaguey close to me, a hundred poundI were as close to her; If I lov'd now,As many foolish men do, I should run mad.
Enter oldSebastian,andLauncelot.
Seb.Sirrah, no more of your French shrugs I advise you.If you be lowzie shift your self.Laun.May it please your Worship.Seb.Only to see my Son, my Son, goodLauncelot;Your Master and my Son; Body O me Sir,No money, no more money, MonsieurLauncelot,Not a Denier, sweet Signior; bring the Person,The person of my Boy, my BoyTom, MonsieurThomas,Or get you gone again,du gata whee, Sir;Bassa mi cu, goodLauncelot,valetote.My Boy or nothing.Laun.Then to answer punctually.Seb.I say to th' purpose.Laun.Then I say to th' purpose,Because your Worships vulgar UnderstandingMay meet me at the nearest; your Son, my Master,Or MonsieurThomas, (for so his Travel stiles him)Through many foreign plots that Vertue meets with,And dangers (I beseech ye give attention)Is at the last arriv'dTo ask your (as the French man calls it sweetly)Benedictionde jour en jour.Seb.Sirrah, do not conjure me with your French furies.Laun.Che ditt' a vou, Monsieur.Seb.Che doga vou, Rascal;Leave me your rotten language, and tell me plainly,And quickly, Sirrah, lest I crack your French Crown,What your good Master means; I have maintain'dYou and your Monsieur, as I take it,Launcelot,These two years at yourditty vous, yourjours.Jourme no more, for not another pennyShall pass my purse.Laun.Your Worship is erroneous,For as I told you, your SonTom, orThomas,My master and your Son is now arriv'dTo ask you, as our Language bears it nearest,Your quotidian Blessing, and here he is in Person.
Seb.Sirrah, no more of your French shrugs I advise you.If you be lowzie shift your self.
Laun.May it please your Worship.
Seb.Only to see my Son, my Son, goodLauncelot;Your Master and my Son; Body O me Sir,No money, no more money, MonsieurLauncelot,Not a Denier, sweet Signior; bring the Person,The person of my Boy, my BoyTom, MonsieurThomas,Or get you gone again,du gata whee, Sir;Bassa mi cu, goodLauncelot,valetote.My Boy or nothing.
Laun.Then to answer punctually.
Seb.I say to th' purpose.
Laun.Then I say to th' purpose,Because your Worships vulgar UnderstandingMay meet me at the nearest; your Son, my Master,Or MonsieurThomas, (for so his Travel stiles him)Through many foreign plots that Vertue meets with,And dangers (I beseech ye give attention)Is at the last arriv'dTo ask your (as the French man calls it sweetly)Benedictionde jour en jour.
Seb.Sirrah, do not conjure me with your French furies.
Laun.Che ditt' a vou, Monsieur.
Seb.Che doga vou, Rascal;Leave me your rotten language, and tell me plainly,And quickly, Sirrah, lest I crack your French Crown,What your good Master means; I have maintain'dYou and your Monsieur, as I take it,Launcelot,These two years at yourditty vous, yourjours.Jourme no more, for not another pennyShall pass my purse.
Laun.Your Worship is erroneous,For as I told you, your SonTom, orThomas,My master and your Son is now arriv'dTo ask you, as our Language bears it nearest,Your quotidian Blessing, and here he is in Person.
EnterThomas.
Seb.What,Tom! Boy, welcome with all my heart, BoyWelcome, 'faith thou hast gladded me at soul, Boy,Infinite glad I am, I have pray'd too,Thomas,For you wildThomas,Tom, I thank thee heartilyFor coming home.Thom.Sir, I do find your PrayersHave much prevail'd above my sins.Seb.How's this?Thom.Else certain I had perish'd with my rudeness,Ere I had won my self to that discretion,I hope you shall hereafter find.Seb.Humh, humh,Discretion? is it come to that? the Boy's spoil'd.Thom.Sirrah, you Rogue, look for't, for I will make theeTen times more miserable than thou thought'st thy selfBefore thou travell'dst; thou hast told my Father,I know it, and I find it, all my RogueriesBy meer way of prevention to undo me.Laun.Sir, as I speak eight languages, I onlyTold him you came to ask his benediction,De jour en jour.Thom.But that I must be civil,I would beat thee like a Dog. Sir, howeverThe Time I have mispent may make you doubtful,Nay harden your belief 'gainst my Conversion.Seb.A pox o' travel, I say.Thom.Yet dear FatherYour own experience in my after courses.
Seb.What,Tom! Boy, welcome with all my heart, BoyWelcome, 'faith thou hast gladded me at soul, Boy,Infinite glad I am, I have pray'd too,Thomas,For you wildThomas,Tom, I thank thee heartilyFor coming home.
Thom.Sir, I do find your PrayersHave much prevail'd above my sins.
Seb.How's this?
Thom.Else certain I had perish'd with my rudeness,Ere I had won my self to that discretion,I hope you shall hereafter find.
Seb.Humh, humh,Discretion? is it come to that? the Boy's spoil'd.
Thom.Sirrah, you Rogue, look for't, for I will make theeTen times more miserable than thou thought'st thy selfBefore thou travell'dst; thou hast told my Father,I know it, and I find it, all my RogueriesBy meer way of prevention to undo me.
Laun.Sir, as I speak eight languages, I onlyTold him you came to ask his benediction,De jour en jour.
Thom.But that I must be civil,I would beat thee like a Dog. Sir, howeverThe Time I have mispent may make you doubtful,Nay harden your belief 'gainst my Conversion.
Seb.A pox o' travel, I say.
Thom.Yet dear FatherYour own experience in my after courses.
EnterDorothea.
Seb.Prithee no more, 'tis scurvy; there's thy SisterUndone without Redemption; he eats with picks,Utterly spoil'd, his spirit baffled in him:How have I sin'd that this afflictionShould light so heavy on me? I have no more Sons;And this no more mine own, no spark of NatureAllows him mine now, he's grown tame; my grand curseHang o'r his head that thus transform'd thee: travel?I'll send my horse to travel next;weMonsieur.Now will my most canonical dear NeighboursSay I have found my Son, and rejoyce with me,Because he has mew'd his mad tricks off: I know not,But I am sure this Monsieur, this fine GentlemanWill never be in my Books like madThomas,I must go seek an Heir, for my inheritanceMust not turn Secretary; my name and qualityHas kept my Land three hundred years in madness,And it slip now, may it sink.[Exit.Thom.Excellent Sister,I am glad to see thee well; but where's thy father?Dor.Gone discontent, it seems.Thom.He did ill in itAs he does all; for I was utte[r]ingA handsome Speech or two, I have been studyingE'r since I came fromParis: how glad to see thee!Dor.I am gladder to see you, with more love tooI dare maintain it, than my Father's sorryTo see (as he supposes) your Conversion;And I am sure he is vext, nay more, I know it,He has pray'd against it mainly; but it appears, Sir,You had rather blind him with that poor opinionThan in your self correct it: dearest Brother,Since there is in our uniform resemblance,No more to make us two but our bare Sexes;And since one happy Birth produc'd us hither,Let one more happy mind.Thom.It shall be, Sister,For I can do it when I list; and yet, Wench,Be mad too when I please; I have the trick on't:Beware a Traveller.Dor.Leave that trick too.Thom.Not for the world: but where's my Mistress,And prithee say how does she? I melt to see her,And presently: I must away.Dor.Then do so,For o' my faith, she will not see you Brother.Thom.Not see me? I'll—Dor.Now you play your true self;How would my father love this! I'll assure youShe will not see you; she has heard (and loudly)The gambols that you plaid since your departure,In every Town ye came, your several mischiefs,Your rowses and your wenches; all your quarrels,And the no-causes of 'em; these I take itAlthough she love ye well, to modest ears,To one that waited for your reformation,To which end travel was propounded by her Uncle,Must needs, and reason for it, be examined,And by her modesty, and fear'd too light too,To fyle with her affections; ye have lost herFor any thing I see, exil'd your self.Thom.No more of that, sweetDoll, I will be civil.Dor.But how long?Thom.Would'st thou have me lose my Birth-right?For yond old thing will disinherit meIf I grow too demure; good sweetDoll, prithee,Prithee, dear Sister, let me see her.Dor.No.Thom.Nay, I beseech thee, by this light.Dor.I, swagger.Thom.Kiss me, and be my friend, we two were twins,And shall we now grow strangers?Dor.'Tis not my fault.Thom.Well, there be other women, and rememberYou, you were the cause of this; there be more lands too,And better People in 'em, fare ye well,And other loves; what shall become of meAnd of my vanities, because they grieve ye?Dor.Come hither, come, do you see that Cloud that flies there?So light are you, and blown with every fancy:Will ye but make me hope ye may be civil?I know your Nature's sweet enough, and tender,Not grated on, nor curb'd: do you love your Mistress?Thom.He lies that says I do not.Dor.Would ye see her?Thom.If you please, for it must be so.Dor.And appear to herA thing to be belov'd?Thom.Yes.Dor.Change thenA little of your wildness into wisdom,And put on a more smoothness;I'll do the best I can to help ye, yetI do protest she swore, and swore it deeply,She would never see you more; where's your mans heart now?What, do you faint at this?Thom.She is a woman;But him she entertains next for a servant,I shall be bold to quarter.Dor.No thought of fighting;Go in, and there we'll talk more, be but rul'd,And what lies in my power, ye shall be sure of.[Exeunt.
Seb.Prithee no more, 'tis scurvy; there's thy SisterUndone without Redemption; he eats with picks,Utterly spoil'd, his spirit baffled in him:How have I sin'd that this afflictionShould light so heavy on me? I have no more Sons;And this no more mine own, no spark of NatureAllows him mine now, he's grown tame; my grand curseHang o'r his head that thus transform'd thee: travel?I'll send my horse to travel next;weMonsieur.Now will my most canonical dear NeighboursSay I have found my Son, and rejoyce with me,Because he has mew'd his mad tricks off: I know not,But I am sure this Monsieur, this fine GentlemanWill never be in my Books like madThomas,I must go seek an Heir, for my inheritanceMust not turn Secretary; my name and qualityHas kept my Land three hundred years in madness,And it slip now, may it sink.[Exit.
Thom.Excellent Sister,I am glad to see thee well; but where's thy father?
Dor.Gone discontent, it seems.
Thom.He did ill in itAs he does all; for I was utte[r]ingA handsome Speech or two, I have been studyingE'r since I came fromParis: how glad to see thee!
Dor.I am gladder to see you, with more love tooI dare maintain it, than my Father's sorryTo see (as he supposes) your Conversion;And I am sure he is vext, nay more, I know it,He has pray'd against it mainly; but it appears, Sir,You had rather blind him with that poor opinionThan in your self correct it: dearest Brother,Since there is in our uniform resemblance,No more to make us two but our bare Sexes;And since one happy Birth produc'd us hither,Let one more happy mind.
Thom.It shall be, Sister,For I can do it when I list; and yet, Wench,Be mad too when I please; I have the trick on't:Beware a Traveller.
Dor.Leave that trick too.
Thom.Not for the world: but where's my Mistress,And prithee say how does she? I melt to see her,And presently: I must away.
Dor.Then do so,For o' my faith, she will not see you Brother.
Thom.Not see me? I'll—
Dor.Now you play your true self;How would my father love this! I'll assure youShe will not see you; she has heard (and loudly)The gambols that you plaid since your departure,In every Town ye came, your several mischiefs,Your rowses and your wenches; all your quarrels,And the no-causes of 'em; these I take itAlthough she love ye well, to modest ears,To one that waited for your reformation,To which end travel was propounded by her Uncle,Must needs, and reason for it, be examined,And by her modesty, and fear'd too light too,To fyle with her affections; ye have lost herFor any thing I see, exil'd your self.
Thom.No more of that, sweetDoll, I will be civil.
Dor.But how long?
Thom.Would'st thou have me lose my Birth-right?For yond old thing will disinherit meIf I grow too demure; good sweetDoll, prithee,Prithee, dear Sister, let me see her.
Dor.No.
Thom.Nay, I beseech thee, by this light.
Dor.I, swagger.
Thom.Kiss me, and be my friend, we two were twins,And shall we now grow strangers?
Dor.'Tis not my fault.
Thom.Well, there be other women, and rememberYou, you were the cause of this; there be more lands too,And better People in 'em, fare ye well,And other loves; what shall become of meAnd of my vanities, because they grieve ye?
Dor.Come hither, come, do you see that Cloud that flies there?So light are you, and blown with every fancy:Will ye but make me hope ye may be civil?I know your Nature's sweet enough, and tender,Not grated on, nor curb'd: do you love your Mistress?
Thom.He lies that says I do not.
Dor.Would ye see her?
Thom.If you please, for it must be so.
Dor.And appear to herA thing to be belov'd?
Thom.Yes.
Dor.Change thenA little of your wildness into wisdom,And put on a more smoothness;I'll do the best I can to help ye, yetI do protest she swore, and swore it deeply,She would never see you more; where's your mans heart now?What, do you faint at this?
Thom.She is a woman;But him she entertains next for a servant,I shall be bold to quarter.
Dor.No thought of fighting;Go in, and there we'll talk more, be but rul'd,And what lies in my power, ye shall be sure of.[Exeunt.
EnterAlice,andMary.
Alice.He cannot be so wild still.Mary.'Tis most certain,I have now heard all, and all the truth.Alice.Grant all that;Is he the first that has been giv'n a lost man,And yet come fairly home? he is young and tender,And fit for that impression your affectionsShall stamp upon him, age brings on discretion,A year hence, these mad toys that now possess himWill shew like Bugbears to him, shapes to fright him;Marriage dissolves all these like mists.Mary.They are groundedHereditary in him, from his father,And to his grave they will haunt him.Alice.'Tis your fearWhich is a wise part in you; yet your loveHowever you may seem to lessen itWith these dislikes, and choak it with these errors,Do what you can, will break out to excuse him,Ye have him in your heart, and planted, Cousin,From whence the power of reason, nor discretionCan ever root him.Mary.Planted in my heart, Aunt?Believe it no, I never was so liberal;What though he shew a so so comely fellowWhich we call pretty? or say it may be handsom?What though his promises may stumble atThe power of goodness in him, sometimes use too?Al.How willingly thy heart betrays thee, Cousin?Cozen thy self no more; thou hast no more powerTo leave off loving him than he that's thirstyHas to abstain from drink standing before him;His mind is not so monstrous for his shape,If I have Eyes, I have not seen his better.A handsome brown Complexion.Mary.Reasonable,Inclining to a tawney.Alice.Had I said soYou would have wish'd my tongue out; then his making.Mar.Which may be mended; I have seen legs straighter,And cleaner made.Alice.A body too.Mary.Far neater,And better set together.Alice.God forgive thee,For against thy Conscience thou lyest stubbornly.Mary.I grant 'tis neat enough.Alice.'Tis excellent,And where the outward parts are fair and lovely,(Which are but moulds o'th' mind) what must the soul be?Put case youth has his swinge, and fiery NatureFlames to mad uses many times.Mary.All thisYou only use to make me say I love him;I do confess I do, but that my fondnessShould fling it self upon his desperate follies.Alice.I do not counsel that, see him reclaim'd first,Which will not prove a miracle, yetMary,I am afraid 'twill vex thee horriblyTo stay so long.Mary.No, no Aunt, no, believe me.Alice.What was your dream to-night? for I observ'd yeHugging of me, with good dear sweetTom.Mary.Fye, Aunt,Upon my Conscience.Alice.On my word 'tis true, Wench;And then ye kiss'd me,Mary, more than once too,And sigh'd, and O sweetTomagain; nay, do not blush,Ye have it at the heart, Wench.Mary.I'll be hang'd first,But you must have your way.
Alice.He cannot be so wild still.
Mary.'Tis most certain,I have now heard all, and all the truth.
Alice.Grant all that;Is he the first that has been giv'n a lost man,And yet come fairly home? he is young and tender,And fit for that impression your affectionsShall stamp upon him, age brings on discretion,A year hence, these mad toys that now possess himWill shew like Bugbears to him, shapes to fright him;Marriage dissolves all these like mists.
Mary.They are groundedHereditary in him, from his father,And to his grave they will haunt him.
Alice.'Tis your fearWhich is a wise part in you; yet your loveHowever you may seem to lessen itWith these dislikes, and choak it with these errors,Do what you can, will break out to excuse him,Ye have him in your heart, and planted, Cousin,From whence the power of reason, nor discretionCan ever root him.
Mary.Planted in my heart, Aunt?Believe it no, I never was so liberal;What though he shew a so so comely fellowWhich we call pretty? or say it may be handsom?What though his promises may stumble atThe power of goodness in him, sometimes use too?
Al.How willingly thy heart betrays thee, Cousin?Cozen thy self no more; thou hast no more powerTo leave off loving him than he that's thirstyHas to abstain from drink standing before him;His mind is not so monstrous for his shape,If I have Eyes, I have not seen his better.A handsome brown Complexion.
Mary.Reasonable,Inclining to a tawney.
Alice.Had I said soYou would have wish'd my tongue out; then his making.
Mar.Which may be mended; I have seen legs straighter,And cleaner made.
Alice.A body too.
Mary.Far neater,And better set together.
Alice.God forgive thee,For against thy Conscience thou lyest stubbornly.
Mary.I grant 'tis neat enough.
Alice.'Tis excellent,And where the outward parts are fair and lovely,(Which are but moulds o'th' mind) what must the soul be?Put case youth has his swinge, and fiery NatureFlames to mad uses many times.
Mary.All thisYou only use to make me say I love him;I do confess I do, but that my fondnessShould fling it self upon his desperate follies.
Alice.I do not counsel that, see him reclaim'd first,Which will not prove a miracle, yetMary,I am afraid 'twill vex thee horriblyTo stay so long.
Mary.No, no Aunt, no, believe me.
Alice.What was your dream to-night? for I observ'd yeHugging of me, with good dear sweetTom.
Mary.Fye, Aunt,Upon my Conscience.
Alice.On my word 'tis true, Wench;And then ye kiss'd me,Mary, more than once too,And sigh'd, and O sweetTomagain; nay, do not blush,Ye have it at the heart, Wench.
Mary.I'll be hang'd first,But you must have your way.
EnterDorothea.
Alice.And so will you too,Or break down hedges for it.Dorothea,The welcom'st woman living; how does thy Brother?I hear he's turn'd a wondrous civil GentlemanSince his short travel.Dor.'Pray Heaven he make it good,Alice.Mary.How do ye friend? I have a quarrel to ye,Ye stole away and left my company.Dor.O pardon me, dear friend, it was to welcomeA Brother that I have some Cause to love well.Mary.Prithee how is he? thou speak'st truth.Dor.Not perfect,I hope he will be.Mary.Never: h'as forgot me,I hear Wench, and his hot love too.Alice.Thou would'st howl then.Mary.And I am glad it should be so; his travelsHave yielded him variety of Mistresses,Fairer in his eye far.Alice.O cogging Rascal!Mary.I was a fool, but better thoughts I thank heaven.Dor.'Pray do not think so, for he loves you dearly,Upon my troth most firmly, would fain see you.Mary.See me friend! do you think it fit?Dor.It may be,Without the loss of credit too; he's notSuch a prodigious thing, so monstrous,To fling from all society.Mary.He's so much contraryTo my desires, such an antipathyThat I must sooner see my grave.Dor.Dear friend,He was not so before he went.Mary.I grant it,For then I daily hop'd his fair Conversion.Alice.Come, do not mask your self, but see him freely,Ye have a mind.Mary.That mind I'll master then.Dor.And is your hate so mortal?Mary.Not to his person,But to his qualities, his mad-cap follies,Which still likeHydrasheads grow thicker on him.I have a credit, friend, and Maids of my sort,Love where their modesties may live untainted.Dor.I give up that hope then; 'pray for your friends sake,If I have any interest within ye,Do but this courtesie, accept this Letter.Mary.From him?Dor.The same; 'tis but a minutes reading,And as we look on shapes of painted Devils,Which for the present may disturb our fancy,But with the next new object lose 'em, soIf this be foul, ye may forget it, 'pray.Mary.Have ye seen it, friend?Dor.I will not lie; I have not,But I presume, so much he honours you,The worst part of himself was cast awayWhen to his best part he writ this.Mary.For your sake,Not that I any way shall like his scribling.Alice.A shrewd dissembling Quean.Dor.I thank ye, dear friend,I know she loves him.Alice.Yes, and will not lose him,Unless he leap into the Moon, believe that,And then she'l scramble too; young wenches lovesAre like the course of quartans, they may shiftAnd seem to cease sometimes, and yet we seeThe least distemper pulls 'em back again,And seats 'em in their old course; fear her not,Unless he be a Devil.Mary.Now Heaven bless me.Dor.What has he writ?Mary.Out, out upon him.Dor.Ha, what has the mad man done?Mary.Worse, worse, and worse still.Alice.Some Northern Toy, a little broad.Mary.Still fouler!Hey, hey Boys, goodness keep me; Oh.Dor.What ail ye?Mary.Here, take your Spell again, it burns my fingers.Was ever Lover writ so sweet a Letter?So elegant a style? pray look upon't;The rarest inventory of rank OathsThat ever Cut-purse cast.Alice.What a mad Boy is this!Mary.Only i'th' bottomA little Julip gently sprinkled overTo cool his mouth, lest it break out in blisters,Indeed law. Yours for ever.Dor.I am sorry.Mar.You shall be welcome to me, come when you please,And ever may command me vertuously,But for your Brother, you must pardon me,Till I am of his nature, no access friend,No word of visitation, as ye love me,And so for now I'le leave ye.[Exit.Alice.What a letterHas this thing written, how it roars like thunder!With what a state he enters into stile!Dear Mistress.Dor.Out upon him bedlam.Alice.Well, there be waies to reach her yet: such likenessAs you two carry me thinks.Dor.I am mad too,And yet can apprehend ye: fare ye well,The fool shall now fish for himself.Alice.Be sure thenHis tewgh be tith and strong: and next no swearing,He'l catch no fish else, FarewelDol.Dor.FarewelAlice.[Exeunt.
Alice.And so will you too,Or break down hedges for it.Dorothea,The welcom'st woman living; how does thy Brother?I hear he's turn'd a wondrous civil GentlemanSince his short travel.
Dor.'Pray Heaven he make it good,Alice.
Mary.How do ye friend? I have a quarrel to ye,Ye stole away and left my company.
Dor.O pardon me, dear friend, it was to welcomeA Brother that I have some Cause to love well.
Mary.Prithee how is he? thou speak'st truth.
Dor.Not perfect,I hope he will be.
Mary.Never: h'as forgot me,I hear Wench, and his hot love too.
Alice.Thou would'st howl then.
Mary.And I am glad it should be so; his travelsHave yielded him variety of Mistresses,Fairer in his eye far.
Alice.O cogging Rascal!
Mary.I was a fool, but better thoughts I thank heaven.
Dor.'Pray do not think so, for he loves you dearly,Upon my troth most firmly, would fain see you.
Mary.See me friend! do you think it fit?
Dor.It may be,Without the loss of credit too; he's notSuch a prodigious thing, so monstrous,To fling from all society.
Mary.He's so much contraryTo my desires, such an antipathyThat I must sooner see my grave.
Dor.Dear friend,He was not so before he went.
Mary.I grant it,For then I daily hop'd his fair Conversion.
Alice.Come, do not mask your self, but see him freely,Ye have a mind.
Mary.That mind I'll master then.
Dor.And is your hate so mortal?
Mary.Not to his person,But to his qualities, his mad-cap follies,Which still likeHydrasheads grow thicker on him.I have a credit, friend, and Maids of my sort,Love where their modesties may live untainted.
Dor.I give up that hope then; 'pray for your friends sake,If I have any interest within ye,Do but this courtesie, accept this Letter.
Mary.From him?
Dor.The same; 'tis but a minutes reading,And as we look on shapes of painted Devils,Which for the present may disturb our fancy,But with the next new object lose 'em, soIf this be foul, ye may forget it, 'pray.
Mary.Have ye seen it, friend?
Dor.I will not lie; I have not,But I presume, so much he honours you,The worst part of himself was cast awayWhen to his best part he writ this.
Mary.For your sake,Not that I any way shall like his scribling.
Alice.A shrewd dissembling Quean.
Dor.I thank ye, dear friend,I know she loves him.
Alice.Yes, and will not lose him,Unless he leap into the Moon, believe that,And then she'l scramble too; young wenches lovesAre like the course of quartans, they may shiftAnd seem to cease sometimes, and yet we seeThe least distemper pulls 'em back again,And seats 'em in their old course; fear her not,Unless he be a Devil.
Mary.Now Heaven bless me.
Dor.What has he writ?
Mary.Out, out upon him.
Dor.Ha, what has the mad man done?
Mary.Worse, worse, and worse still.
Alice.Some Northern Toy, a little broad.
Mary.Still fouler!Hey, hey Boys, goodness keep me; Oh.
Dor.What ail ye?
Mary.Here, take your Spell again, it burns my fingers.Was ever Lover writ so sweet a Letter?So elegant a style? pray look upon't;The rarest inventory of rank OathsThat ever Cut-purse cast.
Alice.What a mad Boy is this!
Mary.Only i'th' bottomA little Julip gently sprinkled overTo cool his mouth, lest it break out in blisters,Indeed law. Yours for ever.
Dor.I am sorry.
Mar.You shall be welcome to me, come when you please,And ever may command me vertuously,But for your Brother, you must pardon me,Till I am of his nature, no access friend,No word of visitation, as ye love me,And so for now I'le leave ye.[Exit.
Alice.What a letterHas this thing written, how it roars like thunder!With what a state he enters into stile!Dear Mistress.
Dor.Out upon him bedlam.
Alice.Well, there be waies to reach her yet: such likenessAs you two carry me thinks.
Dor.I am mad too,And yet can apprehend ye: fare ye well,The fool shall now fish for himself.
Alice.Be sure thenHis tewgh be tith and strong: and next no swearing,He'l catch no fish else, FarewelDol.
Dor.FarewelAlice.[Exeunt.