ANGELINA

I am tired Sir, And never shall foot it home. Nor can you tax me, Sir, I hope, for want of duty to deserve These favours from you. Make me understand Sir, What it's you point at. And who gave you Commission to deliver Your verdict, Minion? Sir, I know them By public fame, though yet I never saw them; And that opposed antipathy between Their various dispositions, renders them The general discourse and argument; One partly inclining to the Scholar Charles, The other side preferring Eustace, as A man complete in Courtship. To be plain, Sir, (Since you will teach me boldness) As they are Simply themselves, to neither; Let a Courtier Be never so exact, Let him be blessed with All parts that yield him to a Virgin gracious, If he depend on others, and stand not On his own bottoms, though he have the means To bring his Mistress to a Masque, or by Conveyance from some great ones lips, to taste Such favour from the kings; or grant he purchase, Precedency in the Country, to be sworn A servant Extraordinary to the Queen; Nay, though he live in expectation of Some huge preferment in reversion; If He Want a present fortune, at the best Those are but glorious dreams, and only yield him A happiness in posse, not in esse; Nor can they fetch him silks from th'Mercer; nor Discharge a Tailors bill; nor in full plenty (Which still preserves a quiet bed at home) Maintain a family. Troth (if he be nothing else) As of the Courtier; all his Songs, and Sonnets, His Anagrams, Acrostics, Epigrams, His deep and Philosophical discourse Of nature's hidden secrets, makes not up A perfect husband; He can hardly borrow The Stars of the Celestial crown to make me A tire for my head; nor Charles Wain for a Coach, Nor Ganymede for a Page, nor a rich gown From Juno's Wardrobe, nor would I lie in (For I despair not once to be a mother) Under heavens spangled Canopy, or banquet My guests and Gossips with imagined Nectar, Pure Orleans would do better; no, no, father, Though I could be well pleased to have my husband A Courtier, and a Scholar, young, and valiant, These are but gawdy nothings, If there be not Something to make a substance. A full estate, and that said, I've said all, And get me such a one with these additions, Farewell Virginity, and welcome wedlock. I am not So punctual in all ceremonies, I will bore Two or three of these good parts, before I'll dwell Too long upon the choice. A husband's welcome, And as and humble wife I'll entertain him, No sovereignty I aim at, it's the men Sir, For she that seeks it, kills her husbands honour: The Gentleman I have seen, and well observed him, Yet find not that graced excellence you promise, A pretty Gentleman, and he may please too, And some few flashes I have heard come from him, But not to admiration, as to others; He's young, and may be good, yet he must make it, And I may help, and help to thank him also. It is your pleasure I should make him mine, An't has been still my duty to observe you. So I look honestly, I fear no eyes, Sir. Wait on your Master, he shall have that befits him. A mad old Gentleman. I would not have a light head, nor one laden With too much learning, as they say, this Charles is, That makes his book his Mistress: Sure, there's something Hid in this old men anger, that declares him Not a mere Sot. I find no fault, Better things well done than want time to do them. Uncle, why are you sad? Can he speak, Sir? And does he speak well there? He is a man, Then conversation me thinks— I Like thy nobleness. And me thinks bravely, This the mere Scholar? I wonder; Is he your brother, Sir? Speak not so softly Sir, 'tis very likely. No certain, Sir, I have herd nothing from you but things excellent. They have rich linings Sir. I would your brother— But touch'em inwardly, they smell of Copper. And one hand seal the match, Ime yours for ever. Nay certainly, 'tis done Sir. Only conditional, That if he had the Land, he had my love too; This Gentleman's the heir, and hee'll maintain it. Pray be not angry Sir, at what I say; Or if you be, 'tis at your own adventure. You have the outside of a pretty Gentleman, But by my troth your inside is but barren; 'Tis not a face I only am in love with, Nor will I say your face is excellent, A reasonable hunting face to court the wind with; Nor the are not words unless they be well placed too, Nor your sweet Dam mees, nor your hired verses, Nor telling me of Clothes, nor Coach and horses, No nor your visits each day in new suits, Nor your black patches you wear variously, Some cut Like stars, some in half Moons, some Lozenges, (All which but show you still a younger brother.) Nor your long travails, nor your little knowledge, Can make me dote upon you. Faith go study, And glean some goodness, that you may show manly, Your brother at my suit Ime sure will teach you, Or only study how to get a wife Sir, you are cast far behind, 'tis good you should be melancholy, It shows likes a Gamester that had lost his money, And 'tis the fashion to wear your arm in a scarf Sir, For you have had a shrewd cut over the fingers. Yes, believe me father, You shall never choose for me, you are old and dim Sir, And the shadow of the earth eclipsed your judgement, you have had your time without control deer father, And you must give me leave to take mine now Sir. Must I be gone too? Then this man will, what fortune he shall run, father, Be't good or bade, I must partake it with him. When shall the Masque begin? I'll wear course flannel first. Dare you venture that? He follows still, yet with a sober face; Would I might know the worst, and then I were satisfied. I am going to bed Sir. I fear he will persuade me to mistake him. Pray you to your bed. True Sir, when 'tis lawful: But yet you know— I shall be and Heretic if this continue. What would you do a bed? you make me blush, Sir. I am becoming Traitor. I've too much woman in me. I must be gone. Then we may walk. To bed, and pray then, we may have a fair end Of our fair loves; would I were worthy of you, Or of such parents that might give you thanks: But I am poor in all but in your love. Once more, good night. Let it be ever night when I loose you. This is no time of night. Hold off your hands, unmannerly, rude Sir; Nor I, nor what I have depend on you. I cannot love you, let that satisfy you; Such vanities as you are to be laughed at. But do not kill they Sir. To borrow me a while, Sir; But one that never fought yet has so curried, So bastinadoed them with manly carriage, They stand Like things Gorgon had turned to stone: They watched your being absent, and then thought They might do wonders here, and they have done so; For by my troth, I wonder at their coldness, The nipping North or frosts never came near them, St. George upon a Sign would grow more sensible: If the name of honour were for ever to be lost, These were the most sufficient men to do it In all the world, and yet they are but young, What will they rise to? They're as full of fire As a frozen Glowworms tails, and shine as goodly; Nobility and patience are matched rarely In these three Gentlemen, they have right use on't; They'll stand still for and hour and be beaten. These are the Anagrammes of three great Worthies. Pray Sir be careful of us. Sir, let not passion So far transport you as to think in reason, This violent course repairs, but ruins it; That honour you would built up you destroy; What you would seem to nourish, if respect Of my preferment or my reputation May challenge your paternal love and care, Why do you, now good fortune has provided 2 pages duplicate A better husband for me than your Hope's Could ever fancy, strive to rob me of him? In what is my Lord Charles defective, Sir? Unless deep learning be a blemish in him, Or well proportioned limbs be mulcts in Nature, Or what you only aimed at large revenues, Are on the sudden grown distasteful to you? Of what can you accuse him? As I have a soul Sir.