ANNE

Come, you flatter me. And I thine, in spite of Father, Mother, kinsfolks, Friends; thy Anne will never forsake thee. Slightall, My vow is fixed, no more, my Father. Enter Changeable. Father I do, pray you for a while Conceal it from my Mother. A Lady, and Caroach'd? My Lady Anne? Good troth and so it does. And so they do. Bore before me? well. It's passing good an't please my Ladyship. I pray, good mother, nay, sir. Look to the Gate there; me thought I herd one knock. And comes, it seems, to see my Ladyship; I feel state come upon me; speak good Mother, How shall I bear my self? Is this your Lord? I have seen a Thousand private Gentlemen Both better faced and featured. Nay kiss better, Beside, he hath the mark of and ill liver, He hath not a Nose strong enough. Mother, a word I pray. Which is his Lordship? Troth I felt no more honour from his lips Than from another man, nay scarce so much; For Slightall kisses better. I tell you as I find; his Lordship? good now Tell me, in what place of his body lies it? If in the face or foot, the Crown or Toe, The Body, arm, or leg, the back, or bosom, Without him, or within? I see no more In him than in another Gentleman. Lord, who'd have thought it? Would he had sent that partly of his Lordship hither, And stayed himself behind; but where's his honour? Him, but not it. It's that I feign would see. Yes, if his Lordship live in that Would you match me to a thing invisible? Where I bestow my self I'll see and feel, And choose to my own liking. So you would make me; this is but a man, And I can find a man to my own liking and never trouble him. Till now I had thought, your Lords, and Noble men Had been possessed of many worthier parts, Where meaner men are scanted; but I see All's one, or little difference. Good mother, it's me, not you, whom this affair concerns: You gave your own free answer to my Father, So give me leave to do where I affect, The good or bade is mine; not touches you That are disposed already. Faith little in that name: Title my Lord, is a cold Bedfellow, And many study style that marry cares; Can honour help in Childbirth? or Nobility Us privilege from throws? What is this honour then? You talk Like and old woman, not Like one That should make her first choice, as I must now; When I am grieved, can honour cure my heart? If discontent, can my Nobility Give ease unto my Corrosives? when your Lordship Is with your Trulls and Concubines abroad, Where is my loving Husband then at home To keep me warm at midnight? Sir, that's the thing I doubt. You are a man? A Lord too? Could you not lend your Lordship to a friend, And keep the man your self? To a poor Gentleman, one Master Slightall, Who, had he but that slight Addition, I gladly would embrace. Therefore to show me serious, Noble man, I take my leave thus gently. Let Father frown, or movingly entreat, My Mother chide, or threaten menaces, Rail till her Tongue, that yet was never tired, Cleave to her Roof in midst of her exclaims: Let my spruce Lord cog in his courtly terms, And woe me with a thousand vain protests; Not all my Father's hate, my Mother's fury, Nor all his Alphabet of Stile and Names, Could they a Sheepskin fill, shall me divert From that which I have vowed, to seek him out And prostrate my first love. Have I found thee? Do you not love me? Sure he's Mad? Good sir, take comfort. Leave those vain thoughts As Fantasies of a distracted brain; I come with sorrow, and repentant tears; To bring you back your own. The Lord? what Lord? O, but sir. That I prefer thy basest poverty Before all glorious Titles; give me ear, And I'll redeem thy former injuries With ample satisfaction. It was my folly, My appetite too childish novelty, Of which I now crave pardon. I can doe't, And to that end I come; wants thy soul comfort? Behold, I bring you comfort: Is your state Decayed and wasted? see, I offer thee A second making, all my Hope's and Fortune's, I throw on thee; I am possessed of nothing Of which thou art not Lord. Jealousy, o what a fury art thou? That foul fiend, Why do you name so oft? o study better thoughts, And set him at defiance. Curse on that pride, that such a hopeful Gentleman Should in his prime be lost by that and me; But who was cause? who first traduced me to't? My Mother, and that Lord; the sin be theirs: Offend they, and must escape endue punishment? Then let me lose, what womankind best arms, My use of Tongue; if but this Pipe hold clear, I'll make both curse them taught me first to speak, And wish I from my Cradle had been dumb: My hate to him shall in his charge and cost, Redeem the love that I to this have lost. Exit. You are a Noble Thief. You are a gentle fool. I am as cold as Ice, and you a scold. You are a Trencher friend. And thou a slave and Pander. This I'll prove. Faith mother a mad wench, I thank my stars. Why mother, can you scold? Stand but in row, and as I am a woman I'll make all this good; you here, you there, And every one in order: First, in particular, And next in general I will go over you. A noble Thief, that was your Character, Some by the high way rob; some are Sea Thieves, We commonly Call Pirates; some break houses, And others snap at stals; some cunningly Dive into Pockets, whistlers, others lifts; Some are Poetical Thieves, and steal by wit, One from another plots, and projects, cheats, And decoys; but all these under Thieves, And steal but petty trash: but you more great, Under pretext of your Nobility, And countenance in Court, have from a Husband Stolen a contracted and a married Wife; For Contract upon Earth, in Heaven is marriage; And celebrate by Angels. A gentle fool, such are your patient Husbands, That yield their wives the Breeches. You see, she needs not put me to my proof, Her tongue will do't it self. I pray your name? Tre. Treatwell. Take but the two first letters from your name, I tak't, it's Eate-well. No, but when thou first was't base Baud to the riots Of thy first Master, thou madest thy self such. But now in general let me see; The Prince is not without his flatterer, The Noble man his Secretary, The Lawyer his Attourney, The Justice his Clarke, The Physitoan his Apothecary, The Usurer his Scrivener, The Extortioner his Broker, Nor the Lady cannot be without her Gentleman Usher; Your Citizens Wife her Journeyman, Your Country Wench her Sweetheart, Your Tobacco woman her Pipe-maker, And every Whore her Pander. Farewell Geffry ; God be with you Gentlefolks. Exit. Sir, I am yours. You in all things Have proved your self a Father: I'll henceforth Strive to express a Daughter. Sir, it is; me thinks I am new wakened from a Dream, in which I long have slumbering lost my self. I am, thank Heaven, and my good Father's counsel and advice. Sir, henceforth I shall observe you better. Else not my own. Only this; t'avoyd all imputation fame may cast Upon my honour touching Slightalls fallen, In which the World may think I had chief hand: It's but to find him out, and on his poverty Bestow some small relief. Let him stay, Death's Image cannot show so ghastly to me As would the shape of Doctor, I'll have none. If he come Good faith I'll live no longer. Sick, o sick at heart, and you keep such a buzzing In my ears, that I can take no rest; Would you would leave me. From whom, if't Be his will, the Lord deliver me. Your absence, Mother, and yours, and all of you; I am but dead Unless you give me rest; o sick, sick, sick, Your tongues Like untuned Bells', found in my ears, Nothing but Grave and Churchyard. None but my Father, All tongues are noise and discords saving his; But his Like charming Music, quietly Summons my eyes to rest; and could I sleep once I hope I should be better, o. I shall disclaim all friendship with that tongue That speaks another sillable; this prating It strikes quite through my head, and makes it beat As it would fallen in pieces. Mother, you talk of silence, and yet speak; how can that be? if you were sick at heart as I, you'de Say mum were a word, Mum sounds to me, being sick, Loud as a Cannon; why so? I thank you all, indeed you Do me now a wondrous kindness; I pray, pray for me, I shall be well at midnight, well at heart; And at head too I hope: and Mother, nay reply not, I'm Like the man that could endure no noise In'th silent woman, answer all in signs; Mother I hope ere morning I shall find Some more hearts ease; remember when you see't, I told you of't before hand: I would sleep: Hand in my bed, I'll turn to the wall, and try if I can Sleep, so good night all. The Bed pulled in And, next my Father, I hold it my fit duty, thanks to both. But I told you I should be well by Midnight; So good Mother I feel my self I am well, never better Here's Gentry, and here's Honour, Mrs. or Madam. A single ambling Nag, or a Caroach With four, four great Dutch Mares; a private Gentle woman Or a great Lady, my worship, or my honour; To be a Wife to a Squire of low Degree, Or a Lord Baron: Gentry shall give place, And in a puffed style his Lordship I'll embrace. Thus, Slightall, I thy Title will outstrip, That all may say, there goes my Ladyship.