SEBASTIAN

A rape, a rape, a rape! Why what is't but a Rape to force a wench to marry, since it forces her to lie with him she would not? Verily, your gravity becomes your perished soul, as hoary moldiness does rotten fruit. And verify the Proverb. The nearer the Church; the further from God.—Poor wench. For thy sake, may his hability die in his appetite; that thou be'st not troubled with him thou love not. May his appetite move thy desire to another man: so he shall help to make himself Cuckold. And let that man be one that he pays wages too: so thou shalt profit by him thou hatest. Let the Chambers be matted, the hinges oiled, the curtain rings silenced, and the chambermaid hold her peace at his own request, that he may sleep the qui etlier. And in that sleep let him be soundly cuckolded. And when he knows it, and seeks to sue a divorce; let him have no other satisfaction then this: He lay by and slept: the Law will take no hold of her, because he winked at it. That but mitigates The heat; rather embrace and entertain A younger brother; he can quench the fire. Under the protection of his present absence. Yes. Let me encounter you so; I'll persuade Your means to reconcile me to his love. Within this half hour? Nothing yet; but I hope I shall.— And you very valiant; for you met me at full Can riere. To dance the beginning of the world after the Eng lish manner. Fie. They dance it preposterously; backward. I can shake my heals. Measure me from top to toe; you shall not find me differ much from the true standard of proportion. Now by the hand of M rcurie. My Annuity. How would you ha'me live? Yes. Sir, I confess in particular respect to your self, I was somewhat forgetful. General honesty possessed me. Inflict any punishment upon me. The severity shall not discourage me, if it be not shameful; so you'll but put more ney i'my purse. The want of money makes a free spirit more mad then the possession does and Usurer. Would you ha'me turn purse-taker? T'is the next way to doe't. For want is Like the Racque; it draws a man to endanger himself to the gallows rather then endure it. What art thou? speak. The Spirit of Charlemont? I'll try that. Before God thou sayest true, th'art all Spirit. You lie. A good honest fellow. Sir, I have God a scratch or two here for your sake. I hope you'll give me money to pay the Surgeon. I thank you sir.—Generous liberty.—that is to say, freely to bestow my habilities to honest purposes. Me thinks I should not follow that instruction now; if having the means to do and honest office for and honest fellow, I should neglect it. Charlemont lies in prison for a thousand Crowns. And here I have a thousand Crowns. Honesty tells meet'were well done to release Charlemont. But discretion says I had much a do to come by this; and when this shall be gone I know not where to singer any more: especially if I employ it to this use, which is Like to endanger me into my Father's per petuall displeasure. And then I may go hang my self, or be forced to do that, will make another save me the labour. No matter. Charlemont! Thou gavest me my life and that's some what of a purer earth then gold as fine as it is. T'is no court sie I do thee but thankfulness. I owe thee it and I'll pay it. He sought bravely, but the Officers dragged him villanously. Arrant knaves! for using him so discourtcously; may the sins o'the poor people be so few, that you sha'not be able to spare so much out o'your gettings, as will pay for the hire of a lame starved hackney to ride to and execution. But go a foot to the gallows, and be hanged. May elder brother's turn good hus bans, and younger brother's get good wives; that there be no need of debt-books, nor use of Sergeants. May there be all peace but i'the war, and all charity but i'the Devil; so that prisons may be turned to Hospitals, though the Officers live oath benevolence. If this curse might come to pass, the world would say, Blessed be he that curseth. Here. Take my sword.—How now my wild Swag'rer? you're tame enough now; are you not? The penury of a prison is Like a soft consumption. Will humble the pride of your mortality; and arm your soul in complete patience to endure the weight of affliction without feeling it. What? Hast no music in thee? Th'hast trebles and bases enough. Triple injury; and base usage. But trebles and bases make poor music without means. Thou wantest Means; Dost? what? Dost droop? art dejected? T'is bravely spoken; and I love thee for't. Thou liest here for a thousand crowns. Here are a thousand to re deem thee. Not for the ransom o'my life thou gavest me. That I valve not at one crown. T'is none o'my deed. Thank my Father for't. T'is his goodness. Yet he looks not for thanks. For he does it under hand; out of a reserved dispo sition to do thee good without ostentation.—Out of great heart you'll refused now; will you? Well, come along. I. You're my Father. But this Honisuckle winds about this whitethorn very prettily and lovingly; sweet Mistress Cataplasma. What? moralizing upon this Gentlewoman's needle work? let's see. Here y'haue set a Medlar with a Batchelors-button of one side; and a Snail of tother. The Batchelors-button should have held his head up more pertly towards the Med lar; the Snail o'th'tother side, should ha'beene wrought with and artificial laziness, doubling his tail, and putting out his horn but half the length. And then the Medlar falling (as it were) from the lazy Snail, and inclining towards the pert Batchelors-button; their branches spreading and winding one within another as if they did embrace. But here's a moral. A poppring Peartree growing upon the bank of a River; seeming continually to look downwards into the water, as if it were enamoured of it; and ever as the fruit ripens, lets it fallen for love (as it were) into her lap. Which the wanton Stream, Like a Strumpet, no sooner receives, but she carries it away, and bestows it upon some other creature she maintains: still see ming to play and dally under the Poppring, so long, that it has almost washed away the earth from the root; and now the poor Tree stands as if it were ready to fallen and perish by that whereon it spent all the substance it had. But is not my Lady Levidulcia come yet? Well said. A lesson of Lute to entertain the time with till she comes. Cease that music. Here's a sweeter instrument. What does the Stinkard here? put Snuff out. He's offensive. Mistreffe Soquette, a word with you.— In faith; none. For I think none of they are faithful, but otherwise as many as clean Shirts. The love of a woman is Like a Mushroom; it grows in one night, and will serve some what pleasingly, next morning to breakfast: but afterwards waxes fulsome and unwholesome. T'is true. Till new come in. By my experience no longer. What violence is this? What seek you? Zownes! you shall not pass. My blood will make it slippery my Lord. T'were bet ter you would take another way. You may hap fallen else. I have't i'faith. A word or two, Madame? that you do for me, will not be contained in less then the compass of two sheets. But in plain terms, shall we take the opportunity of private ness? Pay dean? for what?