Put. They're coming now to Court, as fair as vertue:
Two brighter Stars ne'er rose here.
Alin. Peace, I have it,
And what my Art can do; the Duke—
Put. I am gone,
Remember. [Exit.
Alin. I am counsell'd to the full, Sir.
Duke. My pretty Mistris, whither lyes your business?
How kindly I should take this, were it to me now?
Alin. I must confess immediately to your Grace,
At this time.
Duke. You have no address, I do believe ye,
I would ye had.
Alin. 'Twere too much boldness, Sir,
Upon so little knowledge, less deserving.
Duke. You'll make a perfect Courtier.
Alin. A very poor one.
Duke. A very fair one, sweet; come hither to me.
What killing eyes this Wench has! in his glory
Not the bright Sun, when the Sirian Star reigns,
Shines half so fiery.
Alin. Why does your Grace so view me?
Nothing but common handsomness dwells here, Sir,
Scarce that: your Grace is pleas'd to mock my meanness.
Duke. Thou shalt not go: I do not lie unto thee,
In my eye thou appear'st—
Alin. Dim not the sight, Sir,
I am too dull an object.
Duke. Canst thou love me?
Canst thou love him will honour thee?
Alin. I can love,
And love as you do too: but 'twill not shew well:
Or if it do shew here where all light lustres,
Tinsel affections make a glorious glistering,
'Twill halt i'th' handsom way.
Duke. Are ye so cunning?
Dost think I love not truly?
Alin. No, ye cannot,
You never travel'd that way yet: pray pardon me,
I prate so boldly to you.
Duke. There's no harm done:
But what's your reason, sweet?
Alin. I would tell your Grace,
But happily—
Duke. It shall be pleasing to me.
Alin. I should love you again, and then you would hate me.
With all my service I should follow ye,
And through all dangers.
Duke. This would more provoke me,
More make me see thy worths,
More make me meet 'em.
Alin. You should do so, if ye did well and truly:
But though ye be a Prince, and have power in ye,
Power of example too, ye have fail'd and falter'd.
Duke. Give me example where?
Alin. You had a Mistris,
Oh Heaven, so bright, so brave a dame, so lovely,
In all her life so true!
Duke. A Mistris?
Alin. That serv'd you with that constancy, that care,
That lov'd your will, and woo'd it too.
Duke. What Mistris?
Alin. That nurs'd your honour up, held fast your vertue,
And when she kist encreas'd, not stole your goodness.
Duke. And I neglected her?
Alin. Lost her, forsook her,
Wantonly flung her off.
Duke. What was her name?
Alin. Her name as lovely as her self, as noble,
And in it all that's excellent.
Duke. What was it?
Alin. Her name was Beau-desert:
Do you know her now, Sir?
Duke. Beau-desert? I do not remember—
Alin. I know you do not;
Yet she has a plainer name; Lord Archas service;
Do you yet remember her? there was a Mistris
Fairer than Woman, far fonder to you, Sir,
Than Mothers to their first-born joyes: Can you love?
Dare you profess that truth to me a stranger,
A thing of no regard, no name, no lustre,
When your most noble love you have neglected,
A beauty all the world would woo and honour?
Would you have me credit this? think you can love me,
And hold ye constant, when I have read this story?
Is't possible you should ever favour me,
To a slight pleasure prove a friend, and fast too,
When, where you were most ty'd, most bound to benefit,
Bound by the chains of honesty and honour,
You have broke and boldly too? I am a weak one,
Arm'd only with my fears: I beseech your Grace
Tempt me no further.
Du. Who taught you this Lesson?
Alin. Woful experience, Sir: if you seek a fair one,
Worthy your love, if yet you have that perfect,
Two Daughters of his ruin'd vertue now
Arrive at Court, excellent fair indeed, Sir,
But this will be the Plague on't, they're excellent honest.
Enter Olympia and Petesca privately.
Du. I love thy face.
Alin. Upon my life ye cannot:
I do not love it my self, Sir, 'tis a lewd one,
So truly ill Art cannot mend it; but if 'twere handsome,
At least if I thought so, you should hear me talk, Sir,
In a new strain; and though ye are a Prince,
Make ye Petition to me too, and wait my answers;
Yet o' my Conscience I should pity ye,
After some ten years siege.
Du. Prethee do now.
Alin. What would ye do?
Du. Why I would lye with ye.
Alin. I do not think ye would.
Du. In troth I would Wench.
Here, take this Jewel.
Alin. Out upon't, that's scurvy.
Nay, if we do, sure we'll do for good fellowship,
For pure love, or nothing: thus you shall be sure, Sir,
You shall not pay too dear for't.
Du. Sure I cannot.
Alin. By'r Lady but ye may: when ye have found me able
To do your work well, ye may pay my wages.
Pet. Why does your Grace start back?
Olym. I ha' seen that shakes me:
Chills all my bloud: O where is faith or goodness?
Alinda thou art false, false, false thou fair one,
Wickedness false; and (wo is me) I see it.
For ever false.
Pet. I am glad 't has taken thus right. [Exeunt.
Alin. I'le go ask my Lady, Sir.
Du. What?
Alin. Whether I shall lye with ye, or no: If I find her willing—
For look ye Sir, I have sworn, while I am in her service—
('Twas a rash Oath I must confess.)
Du. Thou mockst me.
Alin. Why, would ye lye with me, if I were willing?
Would you abuse my weakness?
Du. I would piece it,
And make it stronger.
Alin. I humbly thank your highness,
When you piece me, you must piece me to my Coffin:
When you have got my Maiden-head, I take it,
'Tis not an inch of an Apes tail will restore it,
I love ye, and I honour ye, but this way
I'le neither love nor serve ye.
Heaven change your mind, Sir. [Exit.
Duke. And thine too:
For it must be chang'd, it shall be. [Exit.
SCENE IV.
Enter Boroskie, Burris, Theodore, Viola and Honora.
Bor. They are goodly Gentlewomen.
Bur. They are,
Wondrous sweet Women both.
Theo. Does your Lordship like 'em?
They are my Sisters, Sir; good lusty Lasses,
They'll do their labour well, I warrant ye,
You'll find no Bed-straw here, Sir.
Hon. Thank ye Brother.
The. This is not so strongly built: but she is good mettle,
Of a good stirring strain too: she goes tith, Sir.
Enter two Gentlemen.
Here they be, Gentlemen, must make ye merry,
The toyes you wot of: do you like their complexions?
They be no Moors: what think ye of this hand, Gentlemen?
Here's a white Altar for your sacrifice:
A thousand kisses here. Nay, keep off yet Gentlemen,
Let's start first, and have fair play: what would ye give now
To turn the Globe up, and find the rich Moluccas?
To pass the straights? here (do ye itch) by St Nicholas,
Here's that will make ye scratch and claw,
Claw my fine Gentlemen, move ye in divers sorts:
Pray ye let me request ye, to forget
To say your prayers, whilest these are Courtiers;
Or if ye needs will think of Heaven, let it be no higher
Than their eyes.
Bor. How will ye have 'em bestow'd, Sir?
Theo. Even how your Lordship please,
So you do not bake 'em.
Bor. Bake 'em?
Theo. They are too high a meat that way, they run to gelly.
But if you'll have 'em for your own diet, take my counsel,
Stew 'em between two Feather-beds.
Bur. Please you Colonel
To let 'em wait upon the Princess?
Theo. Yes, Sir,
And thank your honour too: but then happily,
These noble Gentlemen shall have no access to 'em,
And to have 'em buy new Cloaths, study new faces,
And keep a stinking stir with themselves for nothing,
'Twill not be well i'faith: they have kept their bodies,
And been at charge for Bathes: do you see that shirt there?
Weigh but the moral meaning, 'twill be grievous:
Alas, I brought 'em to delight these Gentlemen,
I weigh their wants by mine: I brought 'em wholesome,
Wholesome, and young my Lord, and two such blessings
They will not light upon again in ten years.
Bor. 'Tis fit they wait upon her.
Theo. They are fit for any thing:
They'll wait upon a man, they are not bashful,
Carry his Cloak, or unty his points, or any thing,
Drink drunk, and take Tobacco; the familiar'st fools—
This wench will leap over Stools too, and sound a Trumpet,
Wrastle, and pitch the Bar; they are finely brought up.
Bor. Ladies, ye are bound to your Brother,
And have much cause to thank him:
I'le ease ye of this charge, and to the Princess,
So please you, I'le attend 'em.
Theo. Thank your Lordship:
If there be e're a private corner as ye go, Sir,
A foolish lobbie out o'th' way, make danger,
Try what they are, try—
Bor. Ye are a merry Gentleman.
The. I would fain be your honours kinsman.
Bor. Ye are too curst, Sir.
The. Farewel wenches, keep close your ports, y'are washt else.
Hon. Brother, bestow your fears where they are needful. [Exit Boros. Honor. Viol.
The. Honor thy name is, and I hope thy Nature.
Go after, Gentlemen, go, get a snatch if you can,
Yond' old Erra Pater will never please 'em.
Alas I brought 'em for you, but see the luck on't,
I swear I meant as honestly toward ye—
Nay do not cry good Gentlemen: a little counsel
Will do no harm: they'll walk abroad i'th' Evenings,
Ye may surprize 'em easily, they wear no Pistols.
Set down your minds in Metre, flowing Metre,
And get some good old linnen Woman to deliver it,
That has the trick on't: you cannot fail:
Farewel Gentlemen. [Exeunt Gent.
Bur. You have frighted off these flesh-flies.
The. Flesh-flies indeed my Lord.
Enter a Servant.
And it must be very stinking flesh they will not seize on.
Serv. Your Lordship bid me bring this Casket.
Bur. Yes, Good Colonel
Commend me to your worthy Father, and as a pledge
He ever holds my love, and service to him,
Deliver him this poor, but hearty token,
And where I may be his—
The. Ye are too noble;
A wonder here my Lord, that dare be honest,
When all men hold it vitious: I shall deliver it,
And with it your most noble love. Your servant. [Ex. Bur.
Were there but two more such at Court, 'twere Sainted,
This will buy Brawn this Christmas yet, and Muscadine. [Ex.