AURELIA

Such Saints you mean as wore Their Congregations, and swarmed with Christian Vermin. You'll hold clean linen Heresy? Now she is in A Lecturer will sooner hold his peace Then she. That was her Schoolmaster. One that cools a feast With his long grace, and sooner eats a Capon Then blesses it. Old breeches. Oh M r Baneswright, are you come? my woman Was in her preaching fit, she only wanted A Tables end. Never Poor Lady had so much unbred holiness About her person; I am never dressed Without a sermon, but am forced to prove The lawfulness of curling irons before She'l crisp me in a morning; I must show Text for the fashions of my gowns, she'l ask Where Jewels are commanded, or what Lady Ith' primitive times wore ropes of pearl or rubies; She will urge Counsels for her little ruff Called in Northampton shire; and her whole service Is a mere confutation of my clothes. She can't preserve (The gift for which I took her) but (as though She Were inspired from Ipswitch ) she will make The Acts and Monuments in sweetmeats; Quinces Arraigned and burned at a stake; all my banquets Are persecutions, and Dioclesian's days Are brought for entertainment, and we eat Martyrs. Nay, Sir, she is A Puritan at her needle too. She works religious petticoats; for flowers She'l make Church Histories; her needle does So sanctify my Cushionets, beside My smock-sleeves have such holy imbroderies, And are so learned, that I fear in time All my apparel will be quoted by Some pure Instructer. Yesterday I went To see a Lady that has a Parrot, my woman While I was in discourse converted the fowl. And now it can speak nought but Knoxes works, So theres a parrot lost. Fly my sighed You goody Hofman, and keep your chamber till You can provide your self some cure, or I Will forthwith excommunicate your zeal, And make you a silent waiting woman. From thy zeal, Ex. Dorcas. The frantic Ladies judgements, and Histriomastix, Deliver me. This was of your preferring, You must needs help me to another. I needs no foil, nor shall I think I'm white Only between two Moors; or that my nose Stands wrong, because my woman's does stand right. You wrong me, Baneswright, she whom I would have, Must to her handsome shape have virtue too. Expect your reward. Why what are you? you will not leap me, Sir, Pray know your distance. Then, Sir, in time You may be remembered at the quenching of Fired houses, when the Bells' ring backward, by Your name upon the Buckets. By the size of your wit, Sir, had you kept To that profession, I can foresee You would have been a great persecuter of Nature And great consumer of rush Candles, with As small success, as if a Tortoise should Day and night practice to run races: Having Contemplated your self into ill looks, In pity to so much affliction, You might would passed for learned: and it may be, If you had fallen out with the Muses, and Escaped Poetry, you might have risen to scarlet. And may again but then I'll be secured, For the sweet air oth' parties. If you Will bring it me confirmed under the hands Of four sufficient Ladies that you are Clean men, you may chance kiss my woman. 'Tis right you are Two Inns of Court-men. Known Cladders Through all the Town. Yes, Catholic Lovers, From Country Madams to your Glovers wife, Or Laundress; will not let poor Gentlewomen Take physic quietly, but disturb their pills From operation with your untaught visits. Or if they be employed, contrive small plots Below stairs with the Chambermaid; commend Her fragrant breath, which five yards of salutes, At four deflowers a Rose, at three kills spiders. Ravish a lock From the yellow waiting-woman, use stratagems To get her silver whistle, and waylay Her pewter knots or bodkin. I'll tell you, Had I in all the world but forty Mark, And that God by my needle and making socks; And were that forty Mark Mil-sixpences, Spurroyals, Harry groats, or such odd coin Of husbandry as in the Kings reign now Would never pass, I would despise you. 'Tmay be I do. Oh prodigy to hear and Image speak. Why, Sir, I took you for a Mute ith' Hangings. I'll tell the faces. 'Tis so, your face Is missing here, Sir, pray step back again And fill the number; you I hope have more Truth in you then to filch your self away, And leave my room unfurnished. Surely you stood so simply, Like a Man Penning of Recantations, that I suspected you had been a partly of the Monopoly. But now I know you have a tongue, and are A very Man, I'll think you only dull, And pray for better utterance. Then you can wonder, Sir? And love me can't you? Would, would, would, now surely I wonder you wear not a cap; your case Requires warm things, I'll send you forth a Cawdle. Exit. Oh you are A careful brother, to put me on a course That draws the eyes oth' Town upon me, and makes me Discourse for Ordinaries, then leave me in't. I will put off my Ladyship, and return To M' Holland, and to making shirts, And bans again. I Repent I left the Exchange. What would you have me do? D'you think I'm the Dutch Virgin that could live By the sent of Flowers? Or that my family Are all descended of Chameleons, And can be kept with air? Js this the way To get a husband to be in danger to be Shut up for house-rent, or to wear a gown Out a whole fashion, or the same Jewels twice? Shortly my neighbours will commend my clothes, For lasting well, give them strange dates, and cry Since your last Gorget and the blazing star. Faith brother it's no age to be put off With empty education; few will make Jointures To wit or good parts. I may die a Virgin, When some old widow which at every cough Resignes some of her teeth, and every night Puts off her Leg as duly as french Hood, Scarce wears her own Nose, hath no eyes but such As she first bought in Broad-street, and every morning Is put together Like some Instrument, Having full Coffers shall be wooed, and thought A youthful Bride. Marry a fool? in hope To be a Lady Majoress? I have herd Of one whose husband was so meek, to be For needs her Gentleman usher, and while she Made visits above stairs would patiently Find himself business at Tre-trip ith' Hall. Well Brother you shall Dispose of my affections. I will expect you. Well, Sir, Necessity which hath no Law, for once Shall make me oth' conspiracy, and since We are left wholly to our wits, Let's show The power and virtue of they; if your Baneswright Can but persuade my Uncle, I will fit Him with a Bride. But for my true groom who you say comes him there For a disguised Knight, I shall think I wed His Father's Countinghouse, and go to bed To so much Bullion of a man Faith I've No mind to him, brother, he hath not wit enough To make't a lawful marriage. Well, Sir, I must then accept him With all his imperfections, J have Procured a Sir John yonder. One That preaches the next parish once a week Enter a Footman A sleep for thirty pounds a year. 'Tis no Knight Ambassador? Let him come in. Well, Sir, I'll be affable. Sir, you much honour both. You cannot cure The Evil, Sir, nor have your lips the virtue To restore ruins, or make old Ladies young? Lives your father, then Sir? That Gentleman told me he was dead. I'm at leisure To hear your business, Sir. Cowards never wone Ladies, or Forts, Sir. How mean you, Sir? Be plain, Sir, I understand you not. There should be no love lost, Sir. Soft, Sir, the Priest must first Discharge his office. I do not mean to marry Enter Dorcas out of her Puritan dress Like Ladies in New England, where they couple With no more ceremony then birds choose their Mate Upon S to Valentines day. Oh miracle! out of your little Ruff, Dorcas, and in the fashion? Dost thou hope to be saved? Sir, please you par take Of a slight banquet? Will you not stay till night, Sir? Well Sir, since There is no remedy, your beds prepared; By that time you are laid I'll come, Mean time I'll pray that Gentleman to conduct you, There's My Footman to pluck of your stockings. Well wench but that thou hast Revealed thy self unto me, I'de admire To hear a Saint talk thus. To one that knows not The Mystery of thy strange conversion, Thou Wouldst seem a Legend. Well wench my brother Has had his plots on me, and I'll contribute My help to work thy honest Ones on him. Do but perform thy task well and thou winnest him. Prithee, go tell him some business keeps me yet, And bid him stay himself with this kiss. Stay wench. Does it not grieve you now, and make you sighs, Me thinks Your own good breeding might instruct you that My house is not a new Foundation, where You might, paying the rate, approach, be rude, Give freedom to your unwashed Mouths. Then surely You were not deaf. But he is rich, Sir. Yet he still is rich. Were the Man A statue, so it were a golden one, I'de have him. Bid they come in. J am perfect. Is this, Sir, The wealthy Merchant? Come you a Suitor, Sir, to me? Surely, Your speaker then hath erred; I understood Him for my woman, if you can Like her, Sir, It being for ought I hear, all one to you, I've wooed her for you. But for my self, could you Endow me with the stream that ebbs and flows In waves of gold, J hope you do not think Idem so much stain my birth as to be bought To match into a Company Sir, plainly, I'm matched already. I'll prevent you; 'tis true, My Brother laid the Scene for me, but since W'have changed the plot, and 'tis contrived, my woman Shall undertake my partly. Sir, She's one whose fortune J so much intend, And yours, Sir, are so fair, that though there be Much disproportion in your age, yet J Will overrule her, and she shall refer Her self to be disposed by me. Dorcas, this is the Merchant I have provided for you, he is old, But he has that will make him young, much Gold. Princes, Dorcas, Do woo by pictures, and Ambassadors, And match in absent Ceremonies. Come, when you have sealed, Sir, I'll bear a partly in the solemnity. She hath studied all Her Cues already. You mean his Nephew Plotwell ; A prodigal young man; one whom the good Old man his Uncle kept to the Inns of Court, And would in time would made him Barrester; And raised him to his satin Cap, and Biggon, In which he might would sold his breath far dearer, And let his tongue out at a greater price, Then some their Manors. But he did neglect These thriving means; followed his lose companions, His Brights and Newcuts ; two, they say, that live By the new Heresy Platonic Love. Can take up silks upon their strengths, and pay Their Mercer with and Infant. Look, Sir, They come without their Maiden heads.