SCENE VII.

Enter two Footmen, bearing the frame of a great picture. Curtains drawn.

1st Foot. Set 'em down gently; so.

2d Foot. They make me sweat.
Pictures, quoth you; 'slight, they have weight enough
To be the parties.

1st Foot. My lady, sir, has sent
A present to your wife.

Ware. What lady, pray?

1st Foot. Madam Aurelia, sir.

Ware. O!——

2d Foot. Sir, they are
A brace of pictures, with which my lady prays
She will adorn her chamber.

Ware. Male pictures, pray,
Or female?

1st Foot. Why d'you ask?

Ware. Because, methinks,
It should be Mars and Venus in a net;
Aretine's postures,[261] or a naked nymph
Lying asleep, and some lascivious satyr
Taking her lineaments. These are pictures which
Delight my wife.

2d Foot. These are night-pieces, sir.

Mis. Hol. Lord, how I long to see 'em! I have at home
The finest ravish'd Lucrece.

Mis. Scr. So have I
The finest fall of Babylon! There is
A fat monk spewing churches, save your presence.

Mis. Hol. Pray, will you open 'em?

1st Foot. My lady charged us
None should have sight of 'em, sir, but your wife.

Ware. Because you make so dainty, I will see 'em.

[Draws the curtain; within are discovered Bright and Newcut.

2d Foot. 'Tis out of our commission.

Ware. But not of mine. Hell and damnation!

1st Foot. How do you like 'em, sir?

Mis. Hol. Look, they are pictur'd in their clothes!

Mis. Sea. They stir, too.

2d Foot. Sir, they are drawn to life; a master's hand
Went to 'em, I assure you.

Ware. Out, varlets, bawds!
Panders, avoid my house! O devil! are you
My wife's night-pieces? [They come out.

Bright. Sir, you are rude, uncivil,
And would be beaten.

New. We cannot come in private
On business to your wife, but you must be
Inquisitive. Sir, thank God 'tis in your own house;
The place protects you.

Bright. If such an insolence
'Scape unreveng'd, henceforth no ladies shall
Have secret servants.

New. Here she comes; we'll ask
If she gave you commission to be so bold.

Ware. Why this is far beyond example rare.
Now I conceive what is Platonic love:
'Tis to have men, like pictures, brought disguised,
To cuckold us with virtue. [They whisper.