AIMWELL

Nothing, nothing Gentlemen. Sh'as shot a fire into my bosom, from Her eye, or I have drawn in, at mine own, Love poison. O my stars were too ungentle To point her out the Mistress of my thoughts, Who is so much Like them, above the hope Of ever climbing too, I see a fatal Impossibility divide us, yet The more I would discharge this new guest, it Strengthens it self within me, and renews Vigour to keep possession, she's above me And her great fortune makes my expectation So dull and painful, a great heir her uncle? Within Sir. Has Sir George Richley left us? When shall we expect him? Little, But you did motion cards, I'll choose my partner And for a set or two I'm at your service. Why dee mock me. Yes? I shall betray my passion. You m 'y for I am lost. Enter Mrs. Violet. So breaks the day and hides it self again Among the Western shades, were she to dwell Within your garden it should needs no sun. Her smiles were powerful to infuse a warmth Into the flowers, her breath perfume your arbours The trees grow rich in blossom and bear fruit At the same instant, as 'twere ever Spring And ever Summer when she seats her self Within some bower, the feathered Quiristers Shall play their music to her and take pride To warble aery notes till she be weary, Which when she shall but with one Accent of Her own express, and hundred Nightingales Shall fallen down dead from the soft boughs before her For grief to be or chanted. It's so, you have done my passion justice Sir For love is but a straggling from our reason. You know my Father. For his sake, give me your free answer to One question. Is there a possibility, admit I loved your Niece, she might be won at last To be my wife. You were ever generous. Let me embrace a perfect friend. I guess a great one, but I set more valve Upon her person, my affection springs Not from her wealth. Some 3. hundred pounds. None. No, my intention was to preacquaint you. Would! I do find it. I thank you. If such affairs Have passed, it were not noble to continue This path, y'aue done me gentle office Sir I must believe you're generous, this new flame My reason shall suppress, before it grow Too mighty for me. All this from her? Why this to him, could she not give me Repulse, but she must thus proclaim it, I never Moved it to her, her Uncle hath h worser no opportunity To acquaint her what's the Mystery, Prithee repeat again the substance of what she said. In her father's thoughts? Happily not in her own. Would, not move her Uncle or her Father? This may beget encouragement hope I may to her Propound my affection and be happy in't proceed. Hazard, that word does yet imply there is a pos sibilitie. Ah that's wormwood, let me see, better return This last return hath spoiled the whole Term And undone my suit, um? No it does admit A fair Construction: She would would me sensible in time to plant My love where I may expect better return, Why? That I may from her for ought I know. I wonnot let my Actium fallen. I'll smooth it with her Uncle, if it hit O I my blessed Stars. Venus assist one to thy Altar flies, And I'll proclaim, thy son hath found his eyes. Exeunt. Master Worthy. What of my letter? We hear none, you visit the Exchange Sir, pray furnish us. I hope your daughter is in health. And your Niece at whose naming I'm bold to tender my thanks for your last friendship, I might have plunged by this time into passion had not you nobly, joust as I was falling prevented my unhappiness. May we not see her? You speak nobly. By all means let's see the doughty Knight that must free the Lady from her Enchanted Castle. No, but I have herd his character. They say he's one, was wise before he was a man for then his folly was excuseable, but since he came to be of age, which had been a question till his death, had not the Law given him his Father's Lands, he is grown wicked enough to be a Landlord, he does pray but once a year and that's for fair weather in harvest, his inward senses are found, for none comes from him he speaks words but no matter, and therefore is in Election to be of the Peace and Quorum, which his Tenants think him fit for, and his Tutors judgement allows, whom he maintains to make him legs and speeches, he feeds well himself, but in obedience to government, he allows his Servants fasting days; he loves Law, because it killed his Father, whom the Parson overthrew in a case of Tithes; and in memory, wears nothing suitable, for his Apparel is a or the ruins of ten fashions, he does not much care for Heaven, for he's doubtful of any such place, only Hell he's sure of, for the Devil sticks to his Conscience, therefore he does purpose when he die, to turn his sins into Almshouses, that posterity may praise him for his bountiful of hight Pottage, but he's here already, you may read the rest as he comes towards you. Enter Sir George, Sir Nicholas, Tut. It's granted. Oh my best Angel. My service shall wait on you Gentlemen. My service shall wait on you Gentlemen. This opportunity, let my covetous eye, Take to enrich it self, but first prepare With reverence, as to and Altar bring No careless but Religious beams along With you to this new object, this small paper Carries the volume of my humane fate I hold my destiny, betwixt two fingers And thus am I wrapped up without a name Being or expectation of world's joy More then this table (when the curtains drawn) Presents in Character to my thirsty eye sighed, Hail thou ambassador from thine and my Mistress, bringing peace or unkind war Thou Emblem of her whiteness which I kiss And thus again salute. Enter Boy and Clare. Coming from her Can it be guilty of defiance to me Had she not meant me happy she had given My letter to the flame, and with it I In those thin ashes had been buried, Nor had she dained this answer with the circumstance At my receiving prompts me to believe Gracious the gentle messenger command it Not as a thing she wooed a public, but With eyes full of suspicion which had been Needless, had she contenm'd my service. So smilingly departed, Thus I sent my paper Which what but love taught her to imitate Without a superscription, O Clare welcome, Welcome to that heart dance i'thy bosom If thou be'st a friend and canst rejoice to know me Happy, you thought me ridiculous and that I did With too much flattery of my self, expound your story Had I been Like thee of Frosty apprehension and cold Phlegmatic judgement, I had missed a blessing That wanton Jove would have been Rival for Dost see this paper? T'is inly precious. I see through it, hast thou not herd the perfect Magnes Will although enclosed within and Ivory box, Through the white wall shoot forth embracing virtue To the loved needle, I can read it Clare And read a Joy in't that transports me, this Came from my Mistress, having touched her hand Whence it received a whiteness hath it not Brought incense to dipersing a rich breath Sweeter then Arabian spicery About the room, in which while it remains We suck in perfumed air, it came from her My honest Clare, from her she whose rare wit taught When in thy dull opinion I was lost, My apprehension a new hope to thrive In my ambitious love, excellent women The top of all creation I shall be At once too happy, unrip thou the seal Read it, and let thy voice convey it gently Least I be surfeited, but why should any Be honoured to receive her But I, to whom she hath directed it, By thy leave silent paper, confident Of bless I open my Elizeum And let my soul into it — would. Reads Laden with mighty Hope's how dispendant Have I launched forth and find a storm. In scorn. Is this credible. Appeared I so unworthy That among so many ways she had to express At what poor valve she esteemed my proffered Service, her pride could find out none but this To send me mine own again. Incivility, She might have thanked me, and subscribed her name, I was not bound to her observance. I will be so, with this That I could cancel my affection. Do not thou mock me too. Would I had so I cannot empty all My torment, wherefore should a man love woman Such aery mockeries, nothing but mere Echoes That owe their being to our opinion And in reward of honouring them, send back As scornfully the language we bestowed. Out of our too much dotage. And I'll have mine, I will, I would not yet, here wants a guest Invite him home again, Why should not I Be as coy as she, and with as much neglect Throw her behind my thoughts, instruct me with Witty revenge, and thou that see me toss This shuttlecock with as much pride, and when I'm sated with this sport, let fallen this vanity Into as low disdain, pshew. Come to a Tavern, drench the memory Of these poor thoughts. And warmed with sack, we'll try Who can make Satires best. Where's my witty Bacchanalian, how now? what means this Apothecaries shop about thee, art Physical? Didst not look in a glass to day? how scurue lie this nightcap shows upon thee. Hang fevers, let's to the Tavern, and inflame our selves, with lusty wine, suck in the spirit of Sack, till we be Delphic and prophecy my bully rook. Alas, is that the disease, Drench her, drench her in sack, sick for a lass, do not fool thy self beyond the cure of Bedlam, be wise and well again. What Lady? the Lady ith'Lobster, I was half sick for foolish thing called a woman, a toy took me i'th head, and had Like to have taken away my heart too but I would recovered, do not trust thy body with a Physician, heel make thy foolish bones go without flesh in a fortnight, and thy soul walk without a body a seven night after. Doctor! art a Parisian, a Paduan, or a Leaden Do ctor? How many and be true to us hast thou killed the last Spring, will it puzzle thy arithmetic, my precious Rectifier of nature, the wrong way, — faith Thou must excuse me Jack that I cannot condole With thee, by this whay beard of Es lapius, I dare Not endanger my self with so much melancholy Least I fallen into a relapse — whom have we here? Fair Lady. A very pretty fellow, You know my disease too dee not? will not my complexion give you the hint on't How Sir? To what? I think there is, and too much of that, what then what conclude you? Violet? Is there not much danger in him? CAn this be true? Pardon The trespass of my joy it makes me vild I am too well rewarded for thy suffering Promise thy self a noble recompense. Then spread your bosoms, you shall straight pro cure A caroach be ready a'th backside a'my lodging, Do not lose time in questioning, my fate Depends upon your hast. My certaintie's, in thee, The frame of our whole building leans, come on Move slowly time until our work be done. Exeunt. I cannot spy they, yet, pray heaven no Disaster cross our project, One practising I Think, the postures of a Fencer. What business stays him here, some treachery. Clare, they are in sighed, down, down, o my ra uisht soul, what bliss is in this object? Abominable Courtship. Her name's Violetta. All passion will be fruitless but of joy. Touch her not with a rude hand. Why, I may love her name without offence, to you, why did he waken my remembrance I had forgotten ten her. I would done, and till I hear her name again I will throw this dulness off. Take this and this for thy sweet story, thou Hast entranced me with thy language; laden With my despairs, Like a distressed bark I gave my self up lost in the imagined Tempest but at point of striking Upon a rock, what a celestial gale Makes my sails swell with comfort, and enforcing My ship into the channel, I do feel it Bound on the waves, discretion at the helm Which passion made forsaken, I now bless The Minute I weighed Anchor; o my destiny Dwell longer on this thread and make it firm, Upon it hangs the weight of such a fortune That if it crack, will swifter then Jove's flaming Arrow, dig my graven i'th earth's centre Forgive me sacred sex of women that In thought or sillable I would declaimed Against your goodness, I will redeem it With such religious honouring your names That when I die some near thought stained Virgin Shall make a relic of my dust, and throw My ashes Like a charm upon those men, Whose faith's they hold suspected, to what pitch Of blessedness are my thoughts mounted. You're my friends, I was deceived in my Violetta She loves, sh'as sent me proof, but a mistake Sent back my letter, and detained her answer Which was betrayed to her father, but keep your wonder To honour her rare wit, which if the stars Show themselves not malicious, will assure All my desires in her, a divine project She is the master engine, you must work too, Will you not friends? You shall disguise your self I must employ you in rougher Actium. From the Priest, if you have any joy for me, We are married.