Pi. 'Tis private, and we make no invitation.
Lil. My presence, Sir, shall not proclaim it publick.
Pi. May be 'tis not in Town.
Lil. I have a Coach, Sir,
And a most ready will to do you service.
Mir. Strike now or never; make it sure: I tell thee,
She will hang her self, if she have thee not.
Pi. 'Pray ye, Sir,
Entertain my noble Mistris: only a word or two
With this importunate woman, and I'le relieve ye.
Now ye see what your flings are, and your fancies,
Your states, and your wild stubborness, now ye [fi]nd
What 'tis to gird and kick at mens fair services,
To raise your pride to such a pitch, and glory
That goodness shews like gnats, scorn'd under ye,
'Tis ugly, naught, a self will in a woman,
Chain'd to an over-weening thought, is pestilent,
Murthers fair fortune first; then fair opinion:
There stands a Pattern, a true patient Pattern,
Humble, and sweet.
Lil. I can but grieve my ignorance,
Repentance some say too, is the best sacrifice;
For sure, Sir, if my chance had been so happy,
(As I confess I was mine own destroyer)
As to have arrived at you; I will not prophesie,
But certain, as I think, I should have pleas'd ye;
Have made ye as much wonder at my courtesie,
My love, and duty, as I have dishearten'd ye,
Some hours we have of youth, and some of folly;
And being free-born Maids, we take a liberty,
And to maintain that, sometimes we strain highly.
Pi. Now ye talk reason.
Lil. But being yoak'd, and govern'd,
Married, and those light vanities purg'd from us;
How fair we grow, how gentle, and how tender,
We twine about those loves that shoot-up with us!
A sullen woman fear, that talks not to ye;
She has a sad and darkn'd soul, loves dully:
A merry and a free wench, give her liberty;
Believe her in the lightest form she appears to ye,
Believe her excellent, though she despise ye,
Let but these fits and flashes pass, she will shew to ye;
As Jewels rub'd from dust, or Gold new burnish'd:
Such had I been, had you believ'd.
Pi. Is't possible?