MISTRESS FITZDOTTREL

Why, what do you mean Sir? ha'you your reason? Are you not enough The talk, of feasts, and meetingy, but you'll still Make argument for fresh? Yes, I have share in this The scorn will fallen As bittterly on me, where both are laughed at. I must obey. Why S r . and you might see't. What thought, they have of you, may be soon collected By the young Genlemans speech. Look at the backdoor, One knocks, see who it is. I cannot get this venture of the cloak, Out of my fancy; nor the Gentleman's way, He took, which though 'twere strange, yet 'twas handsome, And had a grace withal, beyond the newness. Sure he will think me that dull stupid credit ture, He said, and may conclude it; if I find not Some thought to thank th'attemp. He did presume, By all the carriage of it, on my brain, For answer; and will swear it's very barren, Devil re turns. If it can yield him no return Who is it? What's this? I pray you come to your self and think What your partly is: to make and answer. Tell, Who is it at the door? Oh! you'll anon prove his hired man, I fear, What has he given you, for this message? Sir, Bid him put off his Hope's of straw, and leave To spread his nets, in view, thus. Though they take Master Fitz-dottrel, I am no such foul, Nor fair one, tell him, will be had with stalking. And wish him to forbear his acting to me, At the Gentleman's chamber-window in Lincoln's-in there, That opens to my gallery: else, I swear Acquaint my husband with his folly, and leave him To the joust rage of his offended jealousy. Or if your Master's sense be not so quick To right me, tell him, I shall find a friend That will repair me. Say, I will be quiet. In mine own house? Pray you, in those words give it him. If he be the Master, Now, of that state and wit, which I allow him; Sure, he will understand me: I durst not Be more direct. For this officious fellow, My husbands new groom, is a spy upon me, I find already. Yet, if he but tell him This in my words, he cannot but conceive Himself both apprehended, and requited. I would not have him think he met a statue : Or spoke to one, not there, though I were silent. How now? have you told him? And what says he? This can be None but my husbands wit. How now! Good! You are a stranger to the plot! you set not Your saucy Devil, here, to tempt your wife, With all the insolent uncivil language, Or Actium, he could vent? You'll ha'too much, I fear, in these false spirits, You have strange fantasies! WHere are you, Sir? You make me paint, S r . Who is there with you, S r ? Who was it sung? Sir, if you judge me by this simple Actium, And by the outward habit, and complexion Of easiness, it hath, to your design; You may with Justice, say, I am a woman: And a strange woman But when you shall please, To bring but that concurrence of my fortune, To memory, which to day your self did urge: It may beget some favour Like excuse, Though none Like reason. And such a one I needs, but not this way: Sir, I confess me to you, the mere manner Of your attempting me, this morning took me, And I did hold m'inuention, and my manners, Were both engaged, to give it a requital; But not unto your ends: my hope was then, (Though interrrupted, ere it could be uttered) That whom I found the Master of such language, That brain and spirit, for such and enterprise, Could not, but if those succours were demanded To a right use, employ them virtuously! And make that profit of his noble parts, Which they would yield. S r , you have now the ground, To exercise them in: I am a woman; That cannot speak more wretchedness of my self, Then you can read; matched to a mass of folly; That every day makes haste to his own ruin; The wealthy portion, that I brought him, spent And (through my friends neglect) no jointure made me. My Fortune's standing in this precipice, 'Tis counsel that I want, and honest aides: And in this name, I needs you, for a friend! Never in any other; for his ill, Must not make me, S r , worse. Fie, Master Fitz-dottrel! What do you mean to counterfeit thus? Hear you all this? Sir, Pray you, She thinks her husband watches. Come from your standing, do, a little, spare Your self, Sir, from your watch, t'applaud your Squire, That so well follows your instructions! HOw now, sweet heart? what's the matter? Not you? you were not planted i'your hold to hear him, Vpo'the stairs? or here, behind the hangings? I do not know your qualities? he durst do it, And you not give directions? Why where S r , were you? Either he understood him not: or else, The fellow was not faithful in delivery, Of what I bade. And, I am justly paid, That might have made my profit of his service, But, by mistaking, have drawn on his envy, And done the worse defeat upon my self. Manly sings, Pug enters perceives it. How! Music? then he may be there: and is sure. Sure I have herd this tongue. Wittipol gives Mi stress Fitz-dottrel. Mere-craft murmurs, He is satisfi ed, now he sees it. To make a fool of her. My cage, you were best To call it? What you please, Ladies. It creaks his Engine: The groom never durst Be, else, so saucy—