CHANGELOVE

Indeed sloth duls the spirits activeness. And too much sleeping blunts the senses quickness; Though some be very needful; their affects Are the preservers of their instruments. I love early rising. A strange unmanly humour: I love not that. Let's run then: it's a brave Olympic exercise; I love it well; but how shall we dispose Of all these cumbers? The wager? Or the Cats piss upon your Military feather? Here he is likewise. The company of half a man: expound my Rid dle, and be a whole Oedipus. I love Beer best. The planting of hops was a rare projection in the Dutch; it hath taught some of them English naturally. Yes, noble sir. And I love Men society: solid souls, Void of all light impressions ; whose discourse Tends not to superficial compliment, But hath more sense then found. The women's creature sir. There's Magic in their company that charms All masculine affections, but of ple sure In their enjoying. I'll spin or thread their needles, Read Spenser and the Arcadia for their company. At least wise 'tis pretended. Were't a plot To gull her husband, I should love it dearly. Why did not I attempt it, that have had More opportunities then ever made Sin fruitful in the pleasure? If't be so, The next share shall be mine. I love a wench As well as he or any. By your favour, it's aly. And lamentation. Why do you not then— And would your freeness give me leave enjoy Those sweets, although forbidden, 'twould be a happiness Above my desire. Be assured my secrecy Is firm as night and locks. Consent then sweet; wee' to it. Help me Mistress Stitchwell. Not willingly: I do not love it. No revenge upon this dreaming tyrant over unpaid for gallantry? A protection to defraud him is long since provided. What is your reckoning, Robin? The particulars. That's too excessive. All this is but a Noble. I'll talk with your Mistress. You know my meam ning Robin. steals away. True Mris. Stitchwell ; when the brain hath purged It self of grosser fumes, the fancy yield's Such solace to the inward waking sense In pleasant dreams, that I have often wished Those shadows real which they have presented; Or their continuance to eternity. Indeed I love to sleep in the morning. Now you speak of a ball, I would we had one here; 'tis a commendable exercise: the great Physi tian Galen wrote a book, de exercitations parvae pilae. Concerning the exercise of the little ball. Worthy friend, I return your salute with double wishes: pray know this Gentleman and his bed fellow. I should love some witty plot upon him. I have it. Indeed a seeming careless stayed formality In such Like wantonnesses best becomes A gentleman. I love it. Pray Sir let's jump: I love it mightily. Right, his Wife; who being half of himself, makes up the third partly a half man. I love his company man, and pay him with nothing but courtesies: a Totenham-Courts kindness is principal, interest and security. Whet's Mr. Stitchw ll? Fie, give out man, and steal away. Send it be no counterfeit. They were deer. A handsome room sirrah. I love it best ; the old English natural drink. But can this gentleman study a ter Ale? Hunting! it's sport to make immortal activeness Even in the dullest Earth. A well-mouthed cry Outdoes the Spheres in Music. Gods themselves Have left their fabulous Heaven, to put on The shapes of hunter's: courting such delights In these disguises, that hath made them wish Th'exchange of their ethereal government To live with mortals. I love hunting dearly. What says your friend? You a e to be commended. Why, Contemplation is the very being Of Men delight : it shows his nobler partly Converse with things divine; the nimble soul Climbs by it to a height of happiness. I must confess I love it. Music And good too: it's company of that curiosity, or dinary stuff will not please them. Why, I love dancing too. Agility Commends the good composure of one's body; And graceful garbs are taking. No perfection Does make the object of a handsome man So pleasing in a Ladies eye, as Dancing. This Room's more spacious: I'll invite them hither. There will be a safe opportunity for me. I love this Cuckold-making. That's a gross construction. Give a friend leave to do you a pleasure, or so. The truth is Mistress I love you. Here then. He sleeps S curely, never dreaming Of any foreheads arming. Mischief, what noise hath waked him? You mistake: o. My Periwig is not a Turbant. Prove his dream true. When the smart's over I shall forget it. Enter Tapster. He'll dream again: had I best stay? 'Twas no offence: or had it; you have satisfied. I love the memory of it. It'll be a Story To greet a ring of friends with: next I meet Shall have it all. A good fire Mistress Stitchwell is Winter's artifi ciall Sun, that renews Summer within doors. I love it. That's very right. Society is the use Of men best oh naments. Speech and discourse Are reasons messengers, that carry errands From one soul to another. I confess I love good company. You say well Sir, We that have youthful blood, That capers in our veins, and swells their concaves With active warmth, should be inured to hardness. 'Tis healthful, and I love it. What will this come to? I ever thought Mistress Stitchwell that was your own plot; and I love you dearly for it. That was her plot too. Now do I see, some Woe men can counterfeit wickedness, aswell as many dissemble hones y. Come Sir, let you and I drown the memory of our disasters in a cup of Sack. Exeunt.