SPRUCE

Nay I have so strange a wit, few men do jump with it. All my delights are steeped in Elegancy, And censured by and Arbitration, Before I do approve them; I have searched The dust of antiquity to find out The rare inventions that I am versed in, My several Garbs and Postures of the body, My rules for banqueting, and entertainment: And for the titillation of my laughter, Buffoons and Parasites, for I must tell you, I still affect a learned luxury. 'Tis as fresh as the morning, and thats the grace on't, a new Play, and a Gentleman in a new suit, claim the same pri viledge, at their first presentment their estimation is double. I took your lodging by the way, I am going to Dam zell the eyes of the Ladies with my apparition. By this hand, if you had spoke but yesterday I could have furnished you. How does your brother digest the lose of his inhe ritance? Theres Valeria a foolish peevish thing that he calls Mistress, good for nothing but to whet a men wit, and make a Whore on, I can't believe there's any real love between them. Yes twenty, and nothing will prevail. I have sought to corrupt her any time this twelve month, and can do no good on her, her father gives me opportunity out of pretence of good will, but I use it clean contrary; for alas, I can not love any wench farther then to lie with her. I can not fashion my tongue to speak in any other Character. I would not willingly lose all this time and labour. I'll make short of it, either work her to obedience, or do her a mischief. Me thinks Lackwit her brother might stand thee in some stead for the conveyance. The time calls upon me. I shall be proud to make my tongue the Organ of your commands sir. But are you certain of it? Yes sir, was it he? Let me alone To fetch her off the quicksands, and then I'll board her, And steer her my self. Let me alone, I warrant you. Now all the powers of love assist me in it, To counterfeit a Passion and Dissemble. All my delight's to fool them, and then leave them. I serve your women, as the Hollanders Do by some towns they get; when they have won them, They slight them straight. Now I address my self. Lady how fare you? you are melancholy. 'Tis from the tender care I have of you: But and ill fate pursues my true endeavours, To have them still misconstrued: 'Tis not well done, To lay the burden of your cruelty On my affection, and to make that faith, The passive subject of your dire disdain, That is so active in obedience. counsel, whats that? Not Phœbus with his art, or all the drugs Of Thessaly can ease my grief; the Sea Knows no such straight as I now labour in. O my heart, my heart. Would you would rip it up, that you might see Your self enthroned, and all my faculties Paying their homage to your memory. I think I do it indifferently. Propose a course how I might win belief: Were there a way to it, as deep with danger, As to the Centre, I will search it out. When I have nothing else to do. Now by all my Hope's, By all the rites that crown a happy union, And by the rosy tincture of your cheeks, And by your all subduing eyes, more bright Then heaven. I prize you above the world. What should I say, when vows cannot prevail: If you persist, and still so cruel be, I'll swear there's no plague Like loves tyranny. And all this while I do not care a pin for her. But love makes no distinction. This will not do, I must be more lascivious. Come my fair Venus, fit by thy Adonis. What do you start? are you afraid of love, That is all fair, and from whose brightest heaven, Are blown away all swollen clouds of despair? His brow is smooth, and all his face beset With banks full of delight, a golden Chain Of wanton smiles hangs round about his neck; And all his way before him strewed with roses. Come let us fit and dally, taste those pleasures. Love is no niggard, we may eat and surfeit. And yet our dainties still remain as fresh, As they were never touched. I'll teach you all, and led your wandering steps, Through all those ways, where to find the way Will be to lose it. These are harsh tunes, and ill become your beauty: Whose proper passion should be wantonness. Why should you lose the benefit of youth, And the delights? give freedom to your will. When age and weakness mortifies your thoughts, You may correct this looseness. I must die then, I am slain, unless Those words, and smiles, that wounded me, do heal me. You had then, Robbed nature of her best perfection. And that had been a sacrilege. Nay sweet, Your beauty is a thing communicable, And though you do impart, you may retain it. That ever any woman should be virtuous; I have enclosed a fire within my breast, Will burn this frame of nature into cinders, Her beauty has surprised me, I am caught In love; by this light, it a mad jest now If I should turn honest, and woe her so: If she persists, I must do so beleeu't, And hate my self, as long as I live for it. Well I have played so long about the candle, That my wings are singed with it, she is honest I see it, and that something in this age. Out of these doubts some strange thing will arise, A strong disease must have strong remedies. I come sweet Lady, To rear the trophies of your conquest up. And yield my self the greatest. Your looks have taken me prisoner. I am captived, Bound with the golden chain of your lose hair, And on your frowns depends my destiny. But Lady since my change you do not know me. I am now Metamorphis'd, and that fancy That roved, and was rebellious, by her power Is brought within command. Here I present a sad oblation. A heart that brings its own fire with it, And burns before your beanties diety. Offered up with as much devotion, As ever true love sacrificed any. Now by that sacred shrine, brighter then Venus. To whom I pay my Orisons: that form That fair Idea, that rules all my thoughts, Thy self I mean, that spotless seat of pleasure: The continent of all perfection, This spring of love, that issues from my soul. Runs in a stream as pure, as are your virtues, Full fraught with zeal, immaculate and free From all adulterate mixtures. Phœbus, how have I angered thee, to lay Cassandra's curse on me that was not trusted: When she spoke true and most prophetically? Observe me Lady. And mark the harmony, does it not found Upon the string; as if my heart kept touch? That was ill set, this is a different passion. You can not judge by former evidence. It is not fit proof to confirm this motion, This is a true text, that a false gloss of it. What can I say more, then to sware I love you. Am I despised, and slighted? foolish girl, the hast lost thy self, that which is best in nature, Turns to the worst corruption, my scorned love Shall now convert to hatred. 'Tis decreed, Fraud and revenge shall be my counsellors; Whats here, a ring? she lost it now. I know it, The same Aurelio, wont to wear on's finger; He sent it as a gift, it's so, the poesy. In love I write All my grief, all my delight. The very same. Were I best poison it, And send it back to her? No, it shall serve To poison her good name; there's no foul fact, That Love, when it is injured, dares not act. Sir perhaps I might With better judgement, and more thanks conceal So great a wickedness, but my true love to you Could not withhold it, you have read some stories, And these are things not unheard of in nature, No newness at all, the self same lust and pride, As well rules her that treads upon the flint, As her that rides upon the necks of slaves. Beleev't? She is a close Adulteress, Of most strange exercise, a Fricatrice Insatiable: and has she none but you, That she can find to bait with her allurements, To cover her lewd projects? This moved me, I'ld not have meddled else. You have been still kept ignorant, for my partly, I never yet expected better from them I count them but as ordinary chances, Trivial, and drawn out from the lap of Fortune. Believe me sir, there is no day so holy, That ceases to betray a woman's falsehood, My medicine works, I shall be even with her. Sir 'tis not threats that can extort from me, More then I list to speak: I see you troubled, And therefore will not leave you in suspense; Know that I made my self experiment. For all let this confirm you: this she gave me Upon the premises. I must confess I think it would afflict me: I'll leave you sir, I have discharged my conscience. But of more ill, then she has goodness in her. What do you intend sir? You mean about Valeria? I hear she is run mad. The wound then is too deep, and and ill Fate Has driven the shaft of my intended malice Beyond the scope I aimed at. It was my love to her. That love Being wronged, begotten that hate. Repentance may. I only meant to give her name a gash, That might be healed again without a scar, Or any spreading plaster of wide rumour, With help of her compurgators, but only To vex her. Urge me no more, I cannot look on her Without such a reflection of my crime, As must give shame a lustre; there's no man But once in's life may sin beside his nature, Nay perhaps contrary: this is a deed I must abhor to justify. It a scandal, Arose from my repulse, and has no witness Beside your ears; if it were silenced there, The world were ignorant of it; I hear She is run mad upon the grief, I am sorry Her punishment has outstripped my desires. I'll undertake, what ere you shall propose, For the recovery of her wits, or honour. I will resign her where she most affects, And give you all assistance to obtain her. Show me the way, I'll do't; be you the mover, I'll be the instrument. Come Master Littlegood, be comforted, I have as great a share in the misfortunes Of your distracted daughter, as your self. And I had well hoped to have been made happy In her affection, a true Lovers griefs Transcend a parents. Troth I must confess, I have been a little faulty that way. Do not despair, there is yet remedy; I know a scholar, a great Naturalist, Whose wisdom does transcend all other Artists, A traveller beside, and though his body Be distant from the Heavens, yet his mind Has pierced unto the utmost of the Orbs, Can tell how first the Chaos was distinguished, And how the Spheres are turned, and all their secrets, The motion and influence of the stars, The mixture of the Elements, and all The causes of the Winds, and what moves the earth, And then he has subjected to his knowledge The virtues, and the workings of all herbs, And is and Aesculapius in Physic, No grief above his art. Were they as mad as Ajax Telamon, That slew and Ox in stead of Agamemnon, He'll warrant them. I brought him with me, he is at the door. Prithee go call him Fido, you shall hear him, And as you Like his speech, so credit him. This is the Doctor sir. I am bold to make relation of your skill here To this old Gentleman, who has a daughter That is suspected to be mad. A Jacob's staff you mean? Sir, you will do and office, that will not more deserve honour then reward. Look you sir; here's the Doctor, and your daughter already. Take no care for that, I have more Mistress's then I can tell what to do with. Sir you shall command me in what you please, and my thanks for your love; and here I vow never to dissem ble any more in this kind, but to be truly and sincerely affe ctionated to whom soever you shall commend me. Save you Master Careless. I met with a disaster coming up, something has ravished the tassel of my Garter, and discomposed the whole fabric, 'twill cost me and hours patience to re form it; I had rather have seen the Common wealth out of order. As fast together, as the fashion is for friends now adays to be tied, with certain knots of compliment, which the least occasion dis-joynes. I'll only tuck it up, and when my better leisure permits, reduce it to perfection. A conceit, a conceit, a rare invention one of the hap piest that ever my wit teemed withal. You shall swear to be silent then. Then look you, I will participate the mystery; this petty fogging box promises that I have great suits in law, this is to delude the world now: But I must tell you I am a kind of a Solicitor, and earnest suitor to every wench I see. What do you think I have in this box then? You understand me. I no sooner fallen into discourse with any Lady, but I profess my self ardently in lone with her, and being departed, return my Boy with one of these Letters, to second it, as I said passionately deciphering how much I languish for her. Which she can not but deeply apprehend, together with the quickness and promptitude of my ingenuity in the dispatch of it. I there wants a name, they fit any degree or person whatsoever. There wants a name too. They are general things. And so it goes on: How do you Like it? A bundle of blank love letters, ready pend with as much vehemency of affection, as I could get for money, only wanting the superscription of their names, to whom they shall be directed, which I can instantly, and with ease indorse upon acquaintance.