MISTRESS WINCOTT

So much he hath out stripped me. O Master Geraldine, Flattery in Men's and adjunct of their sex, This Country breeds it, and for that, so far You needed not to have traveled. Sir, my Husband Hath took much pleasure in your strange discourse About Jerusalem and the Holy Land; How the new City differs from the old, What ruins of the Temple yet remain, And whither Sion, and those hills about, With these Adjacent Towns and Villages, Keep that proportioned distance as we read; And then in Room, of that great Piramis Reared in the Front, on four Lyons Mounted, How many of those Idol Temples stand, First dedicated to their Heathen gods, Which ruined, which to better use repaired, Of their Panthaeon, and their Capitol, What Structures are demolished, what remain. How now Sister, This is a fashion that's but late come up, For maids to court their husbands. Ya'ue my leave, To give it full expression. My apprehension, Can give him no more true expression, Then that he first appears, a Gentleman, And well conditioned. I have nor Eyes, To search into the inward Thoughrs of Men, Nor ever was studied in that 'Art, To judge of Meus affection by the face; But that which makes me best opinioned of him, Is, That he's Companion, and the Friend Beloved of him, whom you so much commend, The Noble Master Geraldine, He pretends Love to my sister Pru. I have observed him, Single her out, to private conference. But Love in these kinds, should not be compelled, Forced, nor Persuaded; When it freely Springs, And of it self, takes voluntary Root, It Grows, it Spreads, it Ripens, and brings forth, Such and Usurious Crop of timely Fruit, As crowns a plenteous Autume. How fell they out at first? But in all this, How did the Women escape? 'Tis the care of Father's; and the weakness Incident to youth, that wants experience. What's the Project? Why say we be who should be jealous of us? This is not first of many hundred Nights, That we two have been private, from the first Of our acquaintance, when our Tongues but clipped Our Mothers-tongue, and could not speak it plain, We knew each other; As in slatnre, so Increased our sweet Society; Since your travel, And my late Marriage, Through my Husbands lone, Midnight hath been as Midday, and my Bedchamber, As free to you, as your own Father's house, And you as welcome too it. Most true, it is withal and Argument, That both our virtues are so deep impressed In his good thoughts, he knows we cannot err. And she no less, whom either Beauty, Youth, Time, Place, or opportunity could tempt, To injure such a Husband. I know your meaning, It was once voiced, that we two should have Matched, The World so thought, and many Tongues so spoke, But Heaven hath now disposed us otherways; And being as it is, (a thing in me, Which I protest, was never wished, nor sought) Now done, I not repent it. Troath they had, I should have been your trusty Treasurer. If they should not, We might proclaim, they were not Charitable, Which were a deadly fin but to conceive. As to one, that in my Bosom hath a second place, next my deer Husband. Presume on that already, but perhaps, You mean to stretch it further. You ask the thing, I was about to beg; Your tongue hath spoke mine own thoughts. As I hope Mercy. Nay Master Geraldine, one Ceremony rests yet unperformed, My Vow is passed, your oath must next proceed, And as you covet to be sure of me, Of you I would be certain. No doubt; but Lone's still Jealous, and in that To be excused; You then shall swear by Heaven, And as in all your future Acts, you hope To thrive and prosper; As the Day may yield Comfort, or the Night rest, as you would keep Entire, the Honour of your Father's house, And free your Name from Scandal and Reproach, By all the Goodness that you hope to enjoy, Or ill to shun— Till that day come, you shall reserve your self A single man; Converse nor company With any Woman, Contract nor Combine, With Maid, or Widow; which expected hour, As I do wish not haste, so when it happens, It shall not come unwelcome; You here all, Vow this. You're now my Brother, But then, my second Husband. And Like such, As are indebted more then they can pay; We more and more confess our selves engaged To you, for your forbearance. You might Sir, Better have termed it saucenes, then theft; You see we blush not, what we took in private, To wear in public view. It hath been to my wish, your desire: And this your coming by Unto my Sister Pru. cuts of suspicion Of any such converse 'twi you and . One thing troubles me. Why your Friend Geraldine, Should on the sudden absent himself? Has he had think you no intelligence. Of these our private meetings. You advise well; O might this Kiss dwell ever on thy Lips, In my remembrance. You are sad Sir. Save from yours, I hear no noise at all. Monday? And yet my glass, till now, near told me so; Who gave you this intelligence? I am undone. Which begin thus low upon my knees. O, I am lost. O tell me if thy name be Geraldine, Thy very looks will kill me? Th'art then a Devil, that presents before me My horrid sins; persuades me to despair; When he Like a good Angel sent from Heaven, Besought me of repentance; Swell sick Heart, Even till thou burst the ribs that bound thee in; So, there's one string cracked, flow, and flow high, Even till thy blood distil out of mine eyes, To witness my great sorrow. O Sir, your pardon; Convey me to my Chamber, I am sick, Sick even to death, away thou Sycophant, Out of my sighed, I have beside thy self, Too many sins about me. We entreat you, Possess us oth' Novel, You are Modest. But to see us From whence he brought us Sir, that's all. Methinks it would not misbecome me Sir, To chide your absence; That have made your self, To us, so long a stranger. Then can I show you some; Who could be otherways, to leave a Father So careful, and each way so provident? To leave so many, and such worthy Friends? To abandon your own country? These are some, Nor do I think you can be much the merrier For my sake? So I thought; Why then have you been all this while so strange? Why will you travel? suing a divorce Betwixt us, of a love inseparable; For here shall I be left as desolate Unto a frozen, almost widowed bed; Warmed only in that future, stored in you; For who can in your absence comfort me? But since by no persuasion, no intreats, Your settled obstinacy can be swaled, Though you seem desperate of your own deer life Have care of mine, for it exists in you. O Sir, should you miscarry I were lost, Lost and forsaken; Then by our passed vows, And by this hand once given me, by these rears, Which are but springs begetting greater floods, I do beseech thce, my deer Geraldine, Look to thy safety, and preserve thy health; Have care into what company you fallen; Travel not late, and cross no dangerous Seas; For till Heavens bless me in thy safe return, How will this poor heart suffer? What? no answer? To whom speaks the man?