_Enter_ Angelli[n]a, Sylvia, _with a Taper_.
_Ang_. I'm worse than e'er I was; for now I fear, that that I love, that
that I only dote on; he follows me through every room I pass, and with a
strong set eye he gazes on me, as if his spark of innocence were blown
into a flame of lust. Virtue defend me. His Uncle too is absent, and 'tis
night; and what these opportunities may teach him--What fear and endless
care 'tis to be honest! to be a Maid what misery, what mischief! Would I
were rid of it, so it were fairly.
_Syl_. You need not fear that, will you be a child still? He follows you,
but still to look upon you; or if he did desire to lie with ye, 'tis but
your own desire, you love for that end; I'le lay my life, if he were now a
bed w'ye, he is so modest, he would fall asleep straight.
_Ang_. Dare you venture that?
_Syl_. Let him consent, and have at ye; I fear him not, he knows not what
a woman is, nor how to find the mystery men aim at. Are you afraid of your
own shadow, Madam?
_Ang_. He follows still, yet with a sober face; would I might know the
worst, and then I were satisfied.
_Syl_. Ye may both, and let him but go with ye.
_Char_. Why do you flie me? what have I so ill about me, or within me, to
deserve it?
_Ang_. I am going to bed, Sir.
_Char_. And I am come to light ye; I am a Maid, and 'tis a Maidens office.
_Ang_. You may have me to bed, Sir, without a scruple, and yet I am chary
too who comes about me. Two Innocents should not fear one another.
_Syl_. The Gentleman says true. Pluck up your heart, Madam.
_Char_. The glorious Sun both rising and declining we boldly look upon;
even then, sweet Lady, when, like a modest Bride, he draws nights
curtains, even then he blushes, that men should behold him.
_Ang_. I fear he will perswade me to mistake him.
_Syl_. 'Tis easily done, if you will give your mind to't.
_Ang_. Pray ye to your bed.
_Char_. Why not to yours, dear Mistris? one heart and one bed.
_Ang_. True, Sir, when 'tis lawful: but yet you know--
_Char_. I would not know, forget it; those are but sickly loves that hang
on Ceremonies, nurs'd up with doubts and fears; ours high and healthful,
full of belief, and fit to teach the Priest: Love shall seal first, then
hands confirm the bargain.
_Ang_. I shall be a Heretick if this continue. What would you do a bed?
you make me blush, Sir.
_Char_. I'd see you sleep, for sure your sleeps are excellent, you that
are waking such a noted wonder, must in your slumber prove an admiration.
I would behold your dreams too, if't were possible; those were rich
showes.
_Ang_. I am becoming Traitor.
_Char_. Then like blew _Neptune_ courting of an Island, where all the
perfumes and the precious things that wait upon great Nature are laid up,
I'd clip it in my arms, and chastly kiss it, dwell in your bosome like
your dearest thoughts, and sigh and weep.
_Ang_. I've too much woman in me.
_Char_. And those true tears falling on your pure Crystals, should turn to
armelets for great Queens t'adore.
_Ang_. I must be gone.
_Char_. Do not, I will not hurt ye; this is to let you know, my worthiest
Lady, y'have clear'd my mind, and I can speak of love too: Fear not my
manners, though I never knew, before these few hours, what a Beauty was,
and such a one that fires all hearts that feel it; yet I have read of
virtuous Temperance, and study'd it among my other Secrets; and sooner
would I force a separation betwixt this spirit and the case of flesh, than
but conceive one rudeness against Chastity.
_Ang_. Then we may walk.
_Char_. And talk of any thing, any fit for your ears, and my language;
though I was bred up dull, I was ever civil; 'tis true, I have found it
hard to look on you, and not desire, 'twill prove a wise mans task; yet
those desires I have so mingled still, and tempered with the quality of
honour, that if you should yield, I should hate you for't. I am no
Courtier of a light condition, apt to take fire at every beauteous face;
that only serves his will and wantonness, and lets the serious part run by
as thin neglected sand. Whiteness of name, you must be mine; why should I
rob my self of that that lawfully must make me happy? why should I seek to
cuckold my delights, and widow all those sweets I aim at in you? We'll
lose our selves in _Venus_ Groves of Myrtle, where every little Bird shall
be a _Cupid_, and sing of love and youth, each wind that blows, and curls
the velvet-leaves, shall breed delights, the wanton Springs shall call us
to their banks, and on the perfum'd flowers we'll feast our senses; yet
we'll walk by untainted of their pleasures, and as they were pure Temples
we'll talk in them.
_Ang_. To bed, and pray then, we may have a fair end of our fair loves;
would I were worthy of you, or of such parents that might give you thanks:
But I am poor in all but in your love. Once more, good night.
_Char_. A good night t'ye, and may the dew of sleep fall gently on you,
sweet one, and lock up those fair lights in pleasing slumbers; no dreams
but chaste and clear attempt your fancy, and break betimes sweet morn,
I've lost my light else.
_Ang_. Let it be ever night when I lose you.
_Syl_. This Scholar never went to a Free-School, he's so simple.
_Enter a_ Servant.
_Serv_. Your Brother, with two Gallants, is at door, Sir, and they're so
violent, they'll take no denial.
_Ang_. This is no fit time of night.
_Char_. Let 'em in, Mistris.
_Serv_. They stay no leave; shall I raise the house on 'em?
_Char_. Not a man, nor make no murmur oft I charge ye.
_Enter_ Eustace, Egremont, Cowsy.
_Eust_. They're here, my Uncle absent, stand close to me. How do you,
Brother, with your curious story? have you not read her yet sufficiently?
_Char_. No, Brother, no; I stay yet in the Preface: the style's too hard
for you.
_Eust_. I must entreat her; she's parcel of my goods.
_Char_. She's all when you have her.
_Ang_. Hold off your hands, unmannerly, rude Sir; nor I, nor what I have
depend on you.
_Char_. Do, let her alone, she gives good counsel; do not trouble your
self with Ladies, they are too light: Let out your Land, and get a
provident Steward.
_Ang_. I cannot love ye, let that satisfie you; such vanities as you, are
to be laugh'd at.
_Eust_. Nay, then you must go; I must claim mine own.
_Both_. Away, away with her.
_Char. Let her alone, pray let her alone, [_She strikes off_
and take your Coxcomb up: Let me talk [Eustace's _hat_.
civilly a while with you, Brother. It may be on some terms I may part with
her.
_Eust_. O, is your heart come down? what are your terms, Sir? Put up, put
up.
_Char_. This is the first and chiefest; [_Snatches away his sword_]
let's walk a turn. Now stand off, fools, I advise ye, stand as far off as
you would hope for mercy: this is the first sword yet I ever handled, and
a sword's a beauteous thing to look upon; and if it hold, I shall so hunt
your insolence: 'tis sharp, I'm sure, and if I put it home, 'tis ten to
one I shall new pink your Sattins; I find I have spirit enough to dispose
of it, and will enough to make ye all examples; let me toss it round, I
have the full command on't. Fetch me a native Fencer, I defie him; I feel
the fire of ten strong spirits in me. Do you watch me when my Uncle is
absent? this is my grief, I shall be flesh'd on Cowards; teach me to
fight, I willing am to learn. Are ye all gilded flies, nothing but shew in
ye? why stand ye gaping? who now touches her? who calls her his, or who
dares name her to me? but name her as his own; who dares look on her? that
shall be mortal too; but think, 'tis dangerous. Art thou a fit man to
inherit Land, and hast no wit nor spirit to maintain it? Stand still, thou
sign of a man, and pray for thy friends, pray heartily, good prayers may
restore ye.
_Ang_. But do not kill 'em, Sir.
_Char_. You speak too late, Dear; it is my first fight, and I must do
bravely, I must not look with partial eyes on any; I cannot spare a button
of these Gentlemen; did life lie in their heel, Achilles like, I'd shoot
my anger at those parts, and kill 'em. Who waits within?
_Ser_. Sir.
_Char_. View all these, view 'em well, go round about 'em, and still view
their faces; round about yet, see how death waits upon 'em, for thou shalt
never view 'em more.
_Eust_. Pray hold, Sir.
_Char_. I cannot hold, you stand so fair before me; I must not hold;
'twill darken all my glories. Go to my Uncle, bid him post to the King,
and get my pardon instantly, I have need on't.
_Eust_. Are you so unnatural?
_Char_. You shall die last, Sir, I'll take thee dead, thou art no man to
fight with. Come, will ye come? Me-thinks I've fought whole Battels.
_Cow_. We have no quarrel to you that we know on, Sir.
_Egre_. We'll quit the house, and ask ye mercy too. Good Lady, let no
murther be done here; we came but to parly.
_Char_. How my sword thirsts after them! Stand away, Sweet.
_Eust_. Pray, Sir, take my submission, and I disclaim for ever.
_Char_. Away, ye poor things, ye despicable creatures! do you come poste
to fetch a Lady from me? from a poor School-boy that ye scorn'd of late,
and grow lame in your hearts when you should execute? Pray take her, take
her, I am weary of her: What did you bring to carry her?
_Egre_. A Coach and four Horses.
_Char_. But are they good?
_Egre_. As good as France can shew Sir.
_Char_. Are you willing to leave those, and take your safeties? Speak
quickly.
_Eust_. Yes with all our hearts.
_Char_. 'Tis done then. Many have got one Horse, I've got four by th'
bargain.
_Enter_ Miramont.
_Mir_. How now, who's here?
_Ser_. Nay, now y'are gone without bail.
_Mir_. What, drawn, my Friends? Fetch me my two-hand Sword; I will not
leave a head on your shoulders, Wretches.
_Eust_. In troth, Sir, I came but to do my duty.
_Both_. And we to renew our loves.
_Mir_. Bring me a Blanket. What came they for?
_Ang_. To borrow me a while, Sir; but one that never fought yet, has so
curri'd, so bastinado'd them with manly carriage, they stand like things
_Gorgon_ had turn'd to stone: they watch'd your being absent, and then
thought they might do wonders here, and they have done so; for by my troth
I wonder at their coldness, the nipping North or Frost never came near
them; St _George_ upon a sign would grow more sensible. If the name of
Honour were for ever to be lost, these were the most sufficient men to do
it in all the world; and yet they are but young, what will they rise to?
They're as full of fire as' a frozen Glow-worms rattle, and shine as
goodly: Nobility and patience are match'd rarely in these three Gentlemen,
they have right use on't; they'll stand still for an hour and be beaten.
These are the Anagrams of three great Worthies.
_Mir_. They will infect my house with cowardize, if they breath longer in
it; my roof covers no baffl'd Monsieurs, walk and air your selves; as I
live they stay not here. White-liver'd wretches, without one word to ask a
reason why. Vanish, 'tis the last warning, and with speed; for if I take
ye in hand, I shall dissect you, and read upon your flegmatick dull
Carcases. My Horse again there: I have other business, which you shall
hear hereafter, and laugh at it. Good-night _Charles_, fair goodness to
your dear Lady; 'tis late, 'tis late.
_Ang_. Pray, Sir, be careful of us.
_Mir_. It is enough, my best care shall attend ye. [_Exeunt_.