SCENE II.
Plotwell, Aurelia.
Plot. Sister, 'tis so projected, therefore make
No more demurs: the life of both our fortunes
Lies in your carriage of things well. Think therefore
Whether you will restore me, and advance
Your own affairs; or else within this week
Fly this your lodging, like uncustom'd sinners,
And have your coach-horses transform'd to rent;
Have your apparel sold for properties,[244]
And you return to cut-work. By this hand,
If you refuse, all this must happen.
Aur. Well, sir,
Necessity, which hath no law, for once
Shall make me o' th' conspiracy; and since
We are left wholly to our wits, let's show
The power and virtue of 'em. If your Bannswright
Can but persuade my uncle, I will fit
Him with a bride.
Plot. The scene is laid already:
I have transform'd an English poet into
A fine French teacher, who shall join your hands
With a most learned legend out of Rab'lais.
Aur. But for my true groom who, you say, comes hither
For a disguis'd knight, I shall think I wed
His father's counting-house, and go to bed
To so much bullion of a man. Faith, I've
No mind to him: brother, he hath not wit enough
To make't a lawful marriage.
Plot. Y' are deceiv'd:
I'll undertake, by one week's tutoring,
And carrying him to plays and ordinaries,
Engaging him in a quarrel or two, and making
Some captain beat him, to render him a most
Accomplish'd gallant. Or say he be born, sister,
Under the city-planet, pray, what wise lady
Desires to match a wise knight? You'd marry some
Philosopher now, that should every night
Lie with you out of Aristotle, and loose
Your maidenhead by demonstration.
Or some great statesman, before whom you must sit
As silent and reserv'd, as if your looks
Had plots on foreign princes; and must visit
And dress yourself by Tacitus. What he wants
In naturals, his fortunes will make up
In honours, Pen. When he's once made a lord,
Who'll be so saucy as to think he can
Be impotent in wisdom? She that marries
A fool is an Hermaphrodite; the man
And wife too, sister. Besides, 'tis now too late;
He'll be here presently, and comes prepar'd
For Hymen. I took up a footman for him,
And left him under three tiremen's hands, besides
Two barbers.
Aur. Well, sir, I must then accept him
With all his imperfections. I have
Procured a Sir John yonder.
Plot. Who is't?
Aur. One that preaches the next parish once a week
Asleep for thirty pounds a year.