BARBARA

There's news too much within, For any homebred Christian understanding. Yes, pray Doctor Hughball Play the Man-midwife, and deliver him Of his huge Timpany of news; of Monsters, Pigmies, and Giants, Apes, and Elephants, Griffons, and Crocadiles; men upon women, And women upon men; the strangest doings As far beyond all Christendom, as 'tis to't. Beyond the Moon and Stars I think, Or mount in Cornwall either. He talks much of the Kingdom of Cathaya, Of one great Caan, and goodman Prester John, (What ever they be) and says that Caan's a Clown Unto the John he speaks of And that John Dwells up almost at Paradise: But sure his mind Is in a wilder ness: For there he says Are Geese that have two heads a piece, and Hens That bear more wool upon their backs than sheep. And men with heads Like hounds. You'll find enough within I warrant ye. Ex. 3. And here comes the poor mad gentleman's wife, Ent. Mar. Almost as mad as he: she haunts me all About the house to impart something to me: Poor heart I guess her grief, and pit y her. To keep a Maidenhead three years after Marriage, Under wedlock and key, insufferable! monstrous, It turns into a wolf within the flesh, Not to be fed with Chickens, and tame Pigeons. J could wish maids be warned by't, not to marry Before they have wit to loose their Maidenheads, For fear they match with men whose wits are passed it. What a sad look, and what a sighs was there? Sweet Mistress Joyl sse, how is't with you now? Now she is on it. Three years forsooth. If you'll be merry. What ails she trow? Is that a laughing matter? Nay I have had two children. But I am o'the surer side, I am sure I groaned for mine and boar them. when at best, He but believes he God them. Now you speak reason, and 'tis nothing but Your husbands madness that would put that dream Into you. Lass poor fool. Fool did I say? She is a witch I think: why not my husband, Pray can you charge me with another man? Was ever Such a poor piece of innocence, three years married? Does not your husband use to lie with you? Your country folks should have done well to have sent Some news by you, but I trust none told you there, We use to leave our fools to lie with madmen. No not I But rather pity your simplicity. Come I'll take charge and care of you. And wage my skill, against my doctors art, Sooner to ease you of these dangerous fits, Then he shall rectify your husbands wits. Ex. Time was your honour used Me strangely too, as you'll do these I doubt not. 'Tis my Lords Reader, and as good a lad Out of his function, as I would desire To mix withal in evil conversation. Indeed but you must stay; and see the play. You'll see anon. Oh now the Actors enter. Flourish. Precious! what do you mean? Pray keep your seat: you'll put the players out. Enough, enough sweetheart. No, no, fit down. And I'll perform't I warrant you my Lord. Ex. Ba. Mar. I'll warrant you he shall fulfil your wishes. There's a new way indeed to chosen a husband! Yet it a good one to bar fool getting. Good gentleman! he is at his prayers now, For his mad sons good Nightwork with his bride. Well fare your heart Sir; you have prayed to purpose; But not all night I hope. Yet sure he has, He looks so wild for lack of sleep. You're happy sir. Your prayers are herd, no doubt, for I'm persuaded You have a child God you to night. I cannot say how far Not fathom deep I think. But to the scantling Of a Child-getting, I dare well imagine. For which, as you have prayed, forget not sir To thank the Lord oth' house. I should go tell my Lord The news: he longs to know how things do pass. Sure his joy Has madded him: Here's more work for the Doctor. What mean you with that Dagger? Their Bawd? I trust she is no Bawd, that sees, and helps (If needs require) and ignorant lawful pair To do their best. These old folks love to hear. I'll tell you sir—and yet I will not neither. Sir, they went to bed. On? they were off sir yet; And yet a good while after. They were both So simple, that they knew not what, not how. For she's sir, a pure maid. I'll speak no more, less you can look more tamely. Ah— I, isle be sworn I meant, and said so too? What and old desperate man is this, to make Away your self for fear of being a Cuckold! If every man that is, or that but knows Himself to be oth' order, should do so, How many desolate widows would here be, They are not all of that mind. Here's my husband. Look well. How thinkest thou Tony? Hast not thou neither slept to night? You know I was appointed to fit up. Why how now Tony? You needs not: for If I were now to die on't, nor the Doctor, Nor I came in a bed to night: I mean Within a bed. What's that thou carriest Tony? A shape? what shape I prithee Tony? Will here be Dancing Tony? Oh Tony. I did not see thee act ith' Play. What in those Breeches? Dumb Speaker! that's a Bull. Thou Wertenberg the Bull Then, in the Play. Would I had seen thee roar. Well Tony, I will see thee in this thing. And 'tis a pretty thing. Oh Tony come, I long to be at that. Exeunt. Truly my Lord, my husband has taken bred And drunk upon't, that under heaven he thinks, You were the means to make me and honest woman, Or (at the least) him a contented man. Yes, I believe you have done And if your husband, Lady, be cured, as he should be; And as all foolish jealous husbands ought to be, I know what was done first, if my Lord took That course with you as me— My Lord to tell you, (As the Doctor tells me) The Bride and Bridegroom, Both, are coming on, The sweetliest to their wits again. Now you are a happy man sir; and I hope a quiet man. Content! So was my husband, when he knew The worst he could by his wife. Now yowl live quiet Lady. I beg your Honours pardon. And now isle tell you. Be it by skill or chance, Or both, was never such a Cure, as is Upon that couple: now they strive which most Shall love the other. Up! up, and ready to lie down again: There is no ho with them; They have been in the Antipodes to some purpose; And, now, are risen, and returned themselves: He's her deer Per, and she is his sweet Mat. His Kingship and her Queenship are forgotten. And all their melancholy and his Travails passed, And but supposed their dreams. Now sir, the Doctor, (for he is become And utter stranger to your son; and so Are all about em) craves your presence, And such as he's acquainted with. Daughter! that's the true trick of all old whoremasters, to call their wenches daughters. If I had been a Gentlewoman born, I should have been your daughter too my Lord. Neat city-wives flesh, yet may be as good, As your course country gentlewoman's blood. Exit Bar. My husband presents jealousy in the black and yellow jaundied suit there, half Like man, and tother half Like woman with one horn, and asse-eare upon his head. Are you there? Good Madam, pardon errors of my tongue. He is in travail Sir.