SCENA VI.
Enter Alinda, Honora, Viola.
Al. You must not be so fearfull, little one,
Nor Lady you so sad, you will ne're make Courtiers
With these dull sullen thoughts; this place is pleasure,
Preserv'd to that use, so inhabited;
And those that live here, live delightfull, joyfull:
These are the Gardens of Adonis, Ladies,
Where all sweets to their free and noble uses,
Grow ever young and courted.
Hon. Bless me Heaven,
Can things of her years arrive at these rudiments?
By your leave fair Gentlewoman, how long have you been here?
Al. Faith much about a week.
Hon. You have studied hard,
And by my faith arriv'd at a great knowledge.
Viol. Were not you bashfull at first?
Al. I, I, for an hour or two:
But when I saw people laugh'd at me for it,
And thought it a dull breeding—
Hon. You are govern'd here then
Much after the mens opinions.
Al. Ever Lady.
Hon. And what they think is honourable.—
Al. Most precisely
We follow with all faith.
Hon. A goodly Catechisme.
Viol. But bashfull for an hour or two?
Al. Faith to say true,
I do not think I was so long: for look ye,
'Tis to no end here, put on what shape ye will,
And soure your self with ne're so much austeritie,
You shall be courted in the same, and won too,
'Tis but some two hours more; and so much time lost,
Which we hold pretious here: In so much time now
As I have told you this, you may lose a Servant,
Your age, nor all your Art can e're recover.
Catch me occasion as she comes, hold fast there,
Till what you do affect is ripn'd to ye.
Has the Duke seen ye yet?
Hon. What if he have not?
Al. You do your beauties too much wrong, appearing
So full of sweetness, newness; set so richly,
As if a Counsel beyond nature fram'd ye.
Hon. If we were thus, say heaven had given these blessings,
Must we turn these to sin-oblations?
Al. How foolishly this Countrey way shews in ye?
How full of flegm? do you come here to pray, Ladies?
You had best cry, stand away, let me alone Gentlemen,
I'le tell my Father else.
Viol. This woman's naught sure,
A very naughtie woman.
Hon. Come, say on friend,
I'le be instructed by ye.
Al. You'l thank me for't.
Hon. Either I or the devil shall: The Duke you were speaking of.
Al. 'Tis well remembred: yes, let him first see you,
Appear not openly till he has view'd ye.
Hon. He's a very noble Prince they say.
Al. O wondrous gracious;
And as you may deliver your self at the first viewing.
For look ye, you must bear your self; yet take heed
It be so season'd with a sweet humilitie,
And grac'd with such a bountie in your beautie—
Hon. But I hope he will offer me no ill?
Al. No, no:
'Tis like he will kiss ye, and play with ye.
Hon. Play with me, how?
Al. Why, good Lord, that you are such a fool now!
No harm assure your self.
Viol. Will he play with me too?
Al. Look babies in your eyes, my prettie sweet one:
There's a fine sport: do you know your lodgings yet?
Hon. I hear of none.
Al. I do then, they are handsom,
Convenient for access.
Viol. Access?
Al. Yes little one,
For visitation of those friends and Servants,
Your beauties shall make choice of: friends and visits:
Do not you know those uses? Alas poor novice;
There's a close Cowch or two, handsomely placed too.
Viol. What are those I pray you?
Al. Who would be troubled with such raw things? they are to lie upon,
And your love by ye; and discourse, and toy in.
Viol. Alas I have no love.
Al. You must by any means:
You'l have a hundred, fear not.
Viol. Honestie keep me:
What shall I doe with all those?
Al. You'l find uses:
Ye are ignorant yet, let time work; you must learn too,
To lie handsomly in your bed a mornings, neatly drest
In a most curious Wastcoat, to set ye off well,
Play with your Bracelets, sing: you must learn to rhime too,
And riddle neatly; studie the hardest language,
And 'tis no matter whether it be sense, or no,
So it go seemlie off. Be sure ye profit
In kissing, kissing sweetly: there lies a main point,
A key that opens to all practick pleasure;
I'le help ye to a friend of mine shall teach ye,
And suddenlie: your Country way is fulsome.
Hon. Have ye schools for all these mysteries?
Al. O yes,
And several hours prefix'd to studie in:
Ye may have Kalenders to know the good hour,
And when to take a jewel: for the ill too,
When to refuse, with observations on 'em;
Under what Sign 'tis best meeting in an Arbor,
And in what Bower, and hour it works; a thousand,
When in a Coach, when in a private lodging,
With all their vertues.
Hon. Have ye studied these?
How beastly they become your youth? how bawdily?
A woman of your tenderness, a teacher,
Teacher of these lewd Arts? of your full beauty?
A man made up in lust would loath this in ye:
The rankest Leacher, hate such impudence.
They say the Devil can assume heavens brightness,
And so appear to tempt us: sure thou art no woman.
Al. I joy to find ye thus.
Hon. Thou hast no tenderness,
No reluctation in thy heart: 'tis mischief.
Al. All's one for that; read these and then be satisfi'd,
A few more private rules I have gather'd for ye,
Read 'em, and well observe 'em: so I leave ye. [Exit.
Viol. A wond[ro]us wicked woman: shame go with thee.
Hon. What new Pandoras box is this? I'le see it,
Though presently I tear it. Read Thine Viola,
'Tis in our own wills to believe and follow.
Worthy Honora, as you have begun
In vertues spotless school, so forward run:
Pursue that nobleness, and chaste desire
You ever had, burn in that holy fire;
And a white Martyr to fair memorie
Give up your name, unsoil'd of infamy.
How's this? Read yours out Sister: this amazes me.
Vio. Fear not thou yet unblasted Violet,
Nor let my wanton words a doubt beget,
Live in that peace and sweetness of thy bud,
Remember whose thou art, and grow still good.
Remember what thou art, and stand a storie
Fit for thy noble Sex, and thine own glorie.
Hon. I know not what to think.
Viol. Sure a good woman,
An excellent woman, Sister.
Hon. It confounds me;
Let 'em use all their arts, if these be their ends,
The Court I say breeds the best foes and friends.
Come, let's be honest wench, and doe our best service.
Viol. A most excellent woman, I will love her. [Exeunt.
Actus Quartus. Scena Prima.
Enter Olympia with a Casket, and Alinda.
Al. Madam, the Duke has sent for the two Ladies.
Olym. I prethee go: I know thy thoughts are with him.
Go, go Alinda, do not mock me more.
I have found thy heart wench, do not wrong thy Mistris,
Thy too much loving Mistris: do not abuse her.
Al. By your own fair hands I understand ye not.
Olym. By thy own fair eyes I understand thee too much,
Too far, and built a faith there thou hast ruin'd.
Goe, and enjoy thy wish, thy youth, thy pleasure,
Enjoy the greatness no doubt he has promised,
Enjoy the service of all eyes that see thee,
The glory thou hast aim'd at, and the triumph:
Only this last love I ask, forget thy Mistris.
Al. Oh, who has wrong'd me? who has ruin'd me?
Poor wretched Girle, what poyson is flung on thee?
Excellent vertue, from whence flows this anger?
Ol. Go, ask my Brother, ask the faith thou gav'st me,
Ask all my favours to thee, ask my love,
Last, thy forgetfulness of good: then flye me,
For we must part Alinda.
Al. You are weary of me;
I must confess, I was never worth your service,
Your bounteous favours less; but that my duty,
My ready will, and all I had to serve ye—
O Heaven thou know'st my honestie.
Olym. No more:
Take heed, heaven has a justice: take this ring with ye,
This doting spell you gave me: too well Alinda,
Thou knew'st the vertue in't; too well I feel it:
Nay keep that too, it may sometimes remember ye,
When you are willing to forget who gave it,
And to what vertuous end.
Al. Must I goe from ye?
Of all the sorrows sorrow has—must I part with ye?
Part with my noble Mistris?
Olym. Or I with thee wench.
Al. And part stain'd with opinion? Farewel Lady,
Happy and blessed Lady, goodness keep ye:
Thus your poor Servant full of grief turns from ye,
For ever full of grief, for ever from ye.
I have no being now, no friends, no Country,
I wander heaven knows whither, heaven knows how.
No life, now you are lost: only mine innocence,
That little left me of my self, goes with me,
That's all my bread and comfort. I confess Madam,
Truely confess, the Duke has often courted me.
Olym. And pour'd his Soul into thee, won thee.
Al. Do you think so?
Well, time that told this tale, will tell my truth too,
And say ye had a faithfull, honest Servant:
The business of my life is now to pray for ye,
Pray for your vertuous loves; Pray for your children,
When Heaven shall make ye happy.
Olym. How she wounds me!
Either I am undone, or she must go: take these with ye,
Some toyes may doe ye service; and this mony;
And when ye want, I love ye not so poorly,
Not yet Alinda, that I would see ye perish.
Prethee be good, and let me hear: look on me,
I love those eyes yet dearly; I have kiss'd thee,
And now I'le doe't again: Farewel Alinda,
I am too full to speak more, and too wretched. [Exit.
Al. You have my faith,
And all the world my fortune. [Exit.