CAMILLA

And gladly too, for I am as weary of travel, as I am of a Shepherds life. This is forced now, and savours not of your temper and woman's seasoning, to hold Paradoxes against nature, and opinions opposite to our own feelings. God's-precious Madam, if Nature framed us to please, how can we please where's none to be pleased but Beasts and Birds, whose apprehension was never made capable of proportion, and therefore regard it not. Nay deer Mistress, let's talk a little now Like our selves Like women; and tell me whither and excellent Quality forced from operation, or a rare piece of work held from sighed, be not a wrong to the Author, as well as the thing? Oh they were foully deceived that sought perfection in a Nunnery! You are Bookish still: and I'll stand to it yet, there's no woman but loves them both: and therefore being natural to our Sex, why should it be termed unnaturalness in us, to cherish beauty, or wish the perfection of civil men's amiable society, when that ever begets love, and love is ever seco ̄ dead with flattery. I Like a Wench that's pure mettle, and spirit, and the very foul of her kind; that when a Lord wantons her, will forsake her home, give off her father and competent means to the poor of the Parish; stick to the City, Like a Prodigal to the Counter, that cannot be drawn out by all the friends, he has; lives clearly by her wits, yet reasonable honest too and all to be flattered. By the pleasures of change, I swear this constancy is a mortal sin, and not a virtue in any of us. A sin, and most mortal, because most against nature, and brings many of us to led Apes in Hell. To loose the sweets of youth, the very Nectar of Nature, and frustrate the end of our Creation; can this be less than a mortal sin? As for example— God reward you, for man will never. It's some Chameleon perhaps, that lives upon the breath of news, and comes to intelligence us here. Faith Mistress my stomach takes this for and invitation, I have a great appetite to be acquainted with the honest Shepher desk, for I am dry at heart, though my teeth water. Why no, I shall do as custom and fashion forces us in wooing, forbear and be coy, look to be invited and prayed, when we be ready to starve: I'll to her & dine, that's passed resolving— Come will you go? Your reason? Nor I to stay—Shepherdess proface: I think your feast be neither gluttonous nor miserable, that thus you make it in the sighed of heaven. Your kindness makes me presume, yet I fear to be oh for bold. I have a melancholy friend here by, whom discontent makes scarce sociable: yet perhaps company & your Bottle would infuse a little spirit, and make a Sunshine on her thoughts. That were to trouble your kindness. Come, rouse your self, and meet a banquet that comes freely to you. Virtuous constancy; thou art beloved of Heaven, and fortunately rewarded. Why true: here's a health and wisdom to you See what a company of religious fools we maids be, to sighs and hang the head for ere a rough-hewne-stubble cheek on them all, when a Crab-fac'd Cynic, that has neither land nor hansomnesse, will scoff at affection, and say he knows four Wenches, who if they were stamped and strained, so, that he might draw out the virtue of one, the beauty of another, the witty good nature of a third, and the Portion of a fourth; he could make a rea sonable good Wife for ere a younger brother in the land. Nay that were pity faith, then fools should trouble two houses. Come will you take your Liquour? I fear some of us shall recompense our sloth too soon, for I am wondrous ill. Not to dissemble, no: but from the Wine I tasted of the Bottle, went a cold Through every vein, that settling at my heart, Shuts up the passages of life, and fills The Organs of my powers with such a frost As kills the spirits that should harbour it. My soul grows faint and weary of her house, And Death claims right in all my Vital parts: Help me Althea! help me Mistress! Or bury me at least, and close mine eyes, Death is the best— Camilla die. That's the folly of men, to term inconstancy vicious in us, for were they not so prove to wrong us, they would never expect it, but know that to be too constant to them, were to be too disloyal to our selves, which I hope never came nigh a woman's wit. I am no Divine, spite of the time I must speak my thoughts.