PLAYFAIR

How now Master's. Not I. You are very merry, Sir. Lads, I have known you long: Although you be at lose, in confidence Of all your future honesties, I'll employ ye In a device, which if it hit, may Reward your pains. Your Master only, Sir, belongs to you, Follow him still, and if there be occasion, I shall inquire for you; you will be faithful. I have a project, Follow me for instructions; farewell Close, Commend me to your master. You tell me strange things; Is it possible The widow her self loves you? Possible! Turned Colt again? This love will kill us all: And can she make no choice, but where her daughter Has the same longing? not her dancing days Done yet? why there's no remedy, you must love her. Thou wot not be so much and Infidel, To think I mean thou shouldst forsake the wench; Tell me the mother a fine tale of love, Print kisses on her paper-lip, and hug Her reverend body; any thing but lie with her: Write sonnets on the ivory tooth afore, Swear she does cough distinctly, get a rhyme To bless her when she sneezes, and cry up The method of her nose, which sweats and falls So perpendicular upon her face: Admire the wart upon her chin, and motion Of her blue eyes, that look three ways at once: Praise her above thy reason, or her daughter; And then she will believe thou mayest be mad for her. Let her fly to thee, Thou mayest clip her wings the sooner, this secures thee; Should you hold off, and play the modest creature; Nay, but deny as Maids do when they love it, And bending of your hams, cry, No forsooth; Profess with Coxcomb-like civility, You are not worthy of her carnal favors: She may believe it, and in very spite Marry her daughter to a Citizen: Or should you be so mad, to think to win her To your first choice, with howling out your passion For Mistress Frances, plaining how Done Cupid Hath scarified your heart, you may go hang your self: Go to the Barbers, let him firk your hair up, Or get a periwig; wash your sullen face, And starch your infant upper lip, to look Like one that would run desperate on a widow. This is the way: At leisure you may tell your Maiden Mistress, Like Jove you have put another shape on, To cheat the Beldame Juno. I'll take my leave then, y'have no other service To use my stay? I have a project, Hartwell, That must not be neglected. Thou art engaged to wait Upon thine own affairs, or I should trouble thee To be and Actor in't; thou knowest old Hornet? I'll rival him; he smothers a poor Gentlewoman At home with seacoal, and allows her no More light than serves to read in painted cloth The exposition of the harlots story: Hartwell, I love her, and before her father Died we interchanged our hearts; it's here, To free her from that slavery she lives in Under the iron-hearted aylor, else I shall repent my aim, he brood's upon Her portion still; but I have a trick may spoil His hatching of young bags, thou shalt know all Hereafter; to the Widow, Hartwell, I am For state affairs, be faithful and pray for me; We must be bold, farewell, if something hit Wee'll laugh in spite of Dives and the Devil. Exit. Witty enginere; But was she taken with the plot? Excellent. He comes then? That were no penance to him. How am I rampant With the imagination? bid the music Be ready, they know all their flourishes; But shift you quickly for your other partly, My honourable Lords; How they do look Like Statesman, where's your toothpick? Excellent; bear your staff handsomely, contract The brow, and look more superciliously. Can you do't with confidence? So, so, how now man? It's a mere conceit, They were and honest men, upon my knowl dge, A Captain of the train Band in the Country, They were brought against the general Mast l st He were they that day, and to Church the Sunday Following, and mos carefully en they up, To taste our London Lavender. Be sprightly; where's this Prince? See and attend him in fit state. Now by that sprig, a pretty Majesty; But wilt thou not be out of thy Kings partly? And when the Wine is wanting at the Banque , Call upon drawers, quarrel with your Nobles, Or when we shall present our man of mortgages, Take him aside, and borrow half a crown, To give your whore benevolence, which For you last tilting, or be And leave our project in the dirt. I quake already, excellent Uva e k, Cool, cool thy lungs, and whisper with some Lord, Thou wilt be a key too high else, good S r . Clement, Master of the house, at whose cost we are entertained. Is he come? Let the Lutes Begin, and their best voice, and then admit him. Soft Music. Which is Sir Gyles? Then I congratulate your happy fortune; You're Like to be exalted, his Grace talks Much on you, I'll be proud to be your servant: My Lord, a word. You are too modest; The King has been informed, Sir Gyles, you are One of the ablest men in his Dominion: Should virtue still be clothed in rags? Advance it To honour, and regard you waste your brain At home, in cheap and low engagements, sweat Your soul out, for a poor and paltry living; Old houses, let they fallen to the dull Lord O'th' Manner; switch me up a Town together, Or meddle not; This or that sttragling Acre's Not worth your care; Study some Monopoly, May sweep the Kingdom at a stake; Despise A project won't bring in half the City; Find out a way to forfeit all the Charters; Have and Exch quer of your own, and keep The Princes round about in pension: These are becoming businesses, and speak And active State-man. His keys are things very Material to our business. So, so: I will account it one of my felicities, To be a witness of your Honour, Sir. We must attend. We shall excuse him so long, still your servant. I am bound ever to thee. The morning never looked So fresh, nor Venus with more charms upon her: Adonis would melt before her eye, and woo her Her kisses, at expense of his last breath: Cupid himself, could he but see, would fallen In love with her, and throwing away his shafts, Offer the empty quiver to her eyes, Ambitious to fill it with her beams; The least of which, would wound more hearts, than His stock of golden Arrows. Didst thou not know before, that love is able, Without the help of Sack, to make a Poet, My nimble Mercury, Io es Herald in Reversion? He never missed they? 'Twas excellent; He walks in darkness still. His clothes already have Made him forget himself, or if he have But the remembrance of such a woman; The more he sees her now, the more he'l think The change impossible. I'th' Gallery, where with much patience, He does expect his highness will send for him. I fed that humour artificially; He is half persuaded all's but a dream, To which imagination his clothes Are a great help, because he paid not for they: Sometime he is very merry, then again He struts about with such a scurvy pride, As some new crept into Nobility; When men of their first Livery come to see they; His honour has so chang'him, that he now Knows not of what Religion he is; Or if he chance to think of his first faith, He spits o'th hangings, and excused with, I do not Like the Story, it's apocryphal: Sometime he'll offer at a jest, and talk Nonsense with him that has been seven years Lorded; Frown upon any man that will pre ume To have more knowledge, in worse clothes; I told him It was his Graces pleasure he should be Controller of the Masque, and he did sweat, As he were studying for some mighty oaths To clear the presence: he is here; away. Exit. Now he looks As he did scorn the quorum, and were hungry To eat a Statesman; alas and office in The household is too little for a breakfast: A Baron, but a morning's draught, he'll gulp it, Like a round Egg in Muscadine: Me thinks At every wiping of his mouth, should drop A golden saying of Pythagoras ; A piece of Machiavell ; I see already Hang on his Beard (which wants but stroking out) The Statutes and the Magnam Chartam have Taken a lease at his tongues end. You always were My loving Uncle. It was good mirth To hear him confident all our device Was but a dream. What make you so familiar with my wife? Sir, be calm, and hear us. Yes, you shall; It will be necessary, I am bold, Presuming on her favour, to demand A parcel of three thousand pound, the sum belongs to me, by virtue of a marriages And I must have it. Perhaps you may continue A thousand, or two thousand, for six months, Upon security. I'm glad of your conversion; You are the first Jew that in my remembrance has turned Christian.