Mar. Take time then. [Exeunt.
Enter Gentille and Casta.
Gent. This solitary life at home undoes thee,
Obscures thy beauty first, which should prefer thee;
Next fills thee full of sad thoughts, which thy years
Must not arrive at yet, they choak thy sweetness;
Follow the time, my Girl, and it will bring thee
Even to the fellowship of the noblest women,
Hellen her self, to whom I would prefer thee,
And under whom this poor and private carriage,
Which I am only able yet to reach at,
Being cast off, and all thy sweets at lustre,
Will take thee as a fair friend, and prefer thee.
Casta. Good Sir, be not so cruel as to seek
To kill that sweet content y'have bred me to:
Have I not here enough to thank Heaven for?
The free air uncorrupted with new flattery.
The water that I touch, unbrib'd with odours
To make me sweet to others: the pure fire
Not smothered up, and choak'd with lustful incense
To make my bloud sweat; but burning clear and high,
Tells me my mind must flame up so to Heaven.
What should I do at Court, wear rich apparel?
Methinks these are as warm: And for your state, Sir,
Wealthy enough; Is it you would have me proud,
And like a Pageant, stuck up for amazements?
Teach not your child to tread that path, for fear (Sir)
Your dry bones after death, groan in your grave
The miseries that follow.
Gent. Excellent Casta.
Casta. When shall I pray again? (a Courtier)
Or when I do, to what God? what new body
And new face must I make me, with new manners?
For I must be no more my self. Whose Mistriss
Must I be first? with whose sin-offering season'd?
And when I am grown so great and glorious
With prostitution of my burning beauties,
That great Lords kneel, and Princes beg for favours,
Do you think I'll be your Daughter, a poor Gentlemans,
Or know you for my father?
Enter Lavall.
Gent. My best Casta.
Oh my most virtuous child! Heaven reigns within thee;
Take thine own choice, sweet child, and live a Saint still.
The Lord Lavall, stand by wench.
Lav. Gabriella,
She cannot, nor she dares not make it known,
My greatness crushes her, when e'er she offers:
Why should I fear her then?
Gent. Come, let's pass on wench.