PENITENT BROTHEL

Sweet M. Folly-wit.. Here's a mad brain a'th first, whose pranks scorn to have presidents; to be second to any; or walk beneath any: mad caps inventions, has played more tricks then the cards can allow a man, and of the last stamp too, hating imitation, a fellow, whose only glory is to be prime of the company; to be sure of which, he maintains all the rest: he's the Karion, and they the Kites that gorge upon him. But why in others do I check wild passion, And retain deadly follies in my self? I tax his youth of common received riot, Times Comic flashes, and the fruits of blood; And in my self sooth up adulterous motions, And such and appetite that I know dams me, Yet willingly embrace it, love to Harebrains wife, Over whose hours and pleasures her sick husband With a fantastic but deserved suspect, Bestows his serious time in watch and ward; And therefore I'm constrained to use the means Of one that knows no mean, a Courtesan, One poison for another, whom her husband Without suspicion innocently admits Into her company, who with tried art Corrupts and loosens her most constant powers, Making his jealousy more then half a wittol, Before his face plotting his own abuse, To which himself gives aim. While the broad arrow with the forked head Misses his brow but narrowly; see here she comes, The close Courtesan, whose mother is her bawd. Did our affections meet? our thoughts keep time? O his waking suspicion! I am arrived at the Court of conscience; A Curti zan! Oh admirable times! honesty is removed to the Come mon place. Farewell Lady. What is't sweet Lady Gulman, that so seizes on thee with rapture and admiration? I would embrace that Lady with such courage, I would not leave you on the losing hand. I'm covetous Lady. Most true. And in that sense I called it, but take me with you Lady; would it be probable enough to have a sickness so suddenly violent? I a Physician Lady, talk not on't I beseech you, I shall shame the whole College. No by my faith, there hatched, they cost you and Angel sir. He's Like himself gone. H'ist, the pair of sons and heirs. Faith much after one fashion sir. I see no signs of death of her. Yes, yes, yes, shee'le take still: sh'as a kind of fa cility in taking: how comes your band bloody sir? Diversa genera Scabierum, as Pliny reports, there arediners kind of Scabs. And itching scab, that is your harlot; a soar scab, your usurer; a running, your promoter; a broad scab, your intelligencer; but a white scab, that's a scald knave and a Pander: but to speak truth, the only scabs we are now a days troubled withal, are new officers. There struck the munit that brings forth the birth of all my joys and wishes; but see the jar now, how shall I rid these from her? Subtly brought about, yett' will not do, the'le stick by't; a word with you gentlemen. She wants but settling of her sense with rest, one hours sleep gentlemen would set all parts in tune. Hels Angels watch you, no Art can prevail with e'm; what with the thought of joys, and sighed of crosses, my wits are at Hercules pillars, non plus ultra. Here Lady. Let me admire thee, The wit of man, wanes and decreases soon, But women's wit is ever at full moon. There shot a star from heaven, I dare not yet behold my happiness. The splendour is so glorious and so piercing. Beyond this sphere I never will aspire. My little pretty Lady gull-man, the news, the comfort? Good. I Applaud thee, kiss thee, and will constantly em brace it. Lady? Ther's one Sir Bounteous Progress newly alighted from his footcloth, and his Mare waits at door, as the fashi on is. Enough. A Physician sir. But you needs none, you're purged in a worse fashio ̄ , The Plague Sir, no? He never asks whither it be the Pox or no, and of the twain that had been more likely. She says true, he's a weak Knight indeed. She says true still, for it holds her in none. Art of Ladies. When plots are ee'n passed hope, and hang their head, Set with a woman's hand, they thrive and spread. I seldom herd Jest match it. We should betray and laugh at our own folly then, for of my troth none here but was deceived int. Faith they were some counterfeit rogues sir. The same, I know e'm. Who would you visit sir? Sir. Marry Sir, some precious cordial, some costly refocillation, a composure comfortable and restorative. No poorer ingrediences then the liquour of Cur rall, clear Amber, or Succinum, Unicorns horn six grains, Magisterium, Perlarum one scruple. Ossis de Cord Cervi half a scruple, Aurum Pota boil or his tincture. All which being finely contunded, and mixed in a stone or glass mortar, with the spirit of Diamber. That's impossible, I cannot be Patient and a Physician too Sir. All which aforesaid. When it is almost exsiccate or dry, I add there to olei Succini, olei Masi, & Sinamoni. And has been of a long time Sir. I come to you Gentleman. Why you saw I derived him sir? We Physicians see the most sights of any men li ving, you're Astronomers look upward into'th air, we look downward into'th body, and indeed we have power up ward and downward. O thence I derive a second meeting. The fullness of my wish. Would? read that place again,—Adultery Draws the Divorce betwixt heaven and the soul! Accursed man that standest diuors't from heaven, Thou wretched unthrift, that hast played away Thy Eternal portion at a minutes game, To please the flesh, hast blotted out thy name: Where were thy nobler meditations busied? That they durst trust this body with it self, This natural drunkard that undoes us all, And makes our shame apparent in our fallen. Then let my blood pay fort, and vex and boil, My soul I know would never grieve tot'h death, The Eternal spirit that feeds her with his breath: Nay I that knew the price of life and sin, What Crown is kept for continence, what for lust? The end of man, and glory of that end As endless as the giver: To dote on weakness, slime, corruption, woman? What is she, took asunder from her clothes? Being ready, she consists of hundred pieces, Much Like your Germane cloak, and never allied Both are so nice, they cannot go for pride. Beside a greater fault, but too well known, Theyle strike to ten, when they should stop at one; Within these three days the next meeting's fixed, If I meet then, hell and my soul be mixed. My lodging I know constantly, she not knows, Sins hate is the best gift that sin bestows: I'll never embrace her more,—never—better witness, never. Celestial soldiers guard me,- Shield me you ministers of faith and grace. Th'art a Devil. Away. Leave my sighed. Fury. Devil! I do conjure thee once again, By that soule-quaking thunder to depart, And leave this chamber, freed from thy damned Art. It ha prevailed—O my sin-shaking Sinews! what should I think? Jesper, why Jesper. A fit, a qualm, —is mistress Hargrave gone? Is she gone I say? No! Art sure ont. I Like it not; —where keptest thou? Why she struck by thee man. I will be satisfied,—although to hazard, What though her husband meet me? I am honest; When men's intenes are wicked, their gilded haunts em, But when they're joust, they're armed, and nothing daunts they. Where's the gentlewoman his wife? When came she in I pray? No? trust me Idem thought I'de seen her, I would request a word with her. I thank you—It likes me worse and worse.— No? why what made you at my chamber then even now? Puh—dissemble not, come, come, you were there. What? Burst into sorrow then, and greeses extremes, While I beat on this flesh. Then was the devil in your likeness there. The very Devil assumde thee formally, That face, that voice, that gesture, that attire, Een as it sits on thee, not a pleat altered, That Beaver band, the colour of that Periwig, The Farthingale abone the Navel, all; As if the fashion were his own invention, To beguile me more. The cunning Succubus told me that meeting Was wrought a purpose by much wit and Art, Wept to me, laid my vows before me, urged me, Gave me the private marks of all our Love, Wood me in wanton and effeminate rhymes, And sung and danst about me Like a Fairy, And had not worthier cogitations blessed me, Thy form and his enchantments had possessed me. Be honest; then the Devil will never assume thee, He has no pleasure in that shape to abide, Where these two sisters reign not, lust of pride; He as much trembles at a constant mind As looser flesh at him,—be not dismayed: Spring souls for joy, his policies are betrayed; Forgive me mistress Hargrave, on whose soul The gilded hangs double, My lust and thy enticement: both I challenge, And therefore of endue vengeance it appeared To none but me to whom both sins inher'd; What knows the lecher when he clips his whore Whither it be the Devil his parts adore: They're both so Like, that in our Natural sense, I could discern no change nor difference. No marvel then times should so stretch and turn None for Religion, all for pleasure burn. Hight zeal into hight lust is now transformde, Grace into painting, charity into clothes, Faith into false hair, and put off as often, Theres nothing but our virtue knows a mean, He that kept open house now keeps a Quean. He will keep open still, that he commends, And there he keeps a table for his friends: And she consumes more then her Sire could hoard, Being more common then his house or board: Live honest, and live happy, keep thy vows, She's partly a Virgin whom but one man knows: Embrace thy husband, and beside him none, Having but one heart, give it but to one. Rise, I'm thy friend for ever. A happy inward peace crown both your joys Who I sir. Well, isle break strife. In Octavo I thank you sir. Whose men I pray you sir? And went off well. O you must bear a little sir, they have many shifts to run into. A lass poor Constable, his mouth's open, and never a wife word. But what follows all this while sir, me thinks some should pass by before this time, & pity the Constable. I do conjure thee by that dreadful power— Do not follow. Torment me not. A friend. Is master Hargrave at home? By my faith you have a fortunate hand sir.