The CARD OF Courtſhip: OR, The LANGUAGE OF LOVE; Fitted to the Humours of all Degrees, Sexes, and Conditions.
LONDON, Printed by J. C. for Humphrey Moſeley; and are to be ſold at his ſhop, at the ſigne of the Prince's Arms in S. Paul's Church-yard. 1653.
THey ſay, that Bacchus and Cupid, as they were one day going on hunting, took Minerva in a net; giving us to underſtand, that none ſo ſeemingly auſtere, but one time or other hath an itching deſire to ſport himſelf in Adonis Grove. I confeſs it comes neer to a Syllogiſme in theſe times (when Mars and Bellona ſit as Rectors o're all hearts) to ſet Venus and her Son in oppoſition againſt them, as it were to thwart the current of the times: but I hope you (Gentlemen and Ladies, Citizens and Laſſes) are not ſo far in love with the bellowing of the Drum, or the clangor of the Trumpet, that the ſweet and harmonious tunes of Love ſhall prove unacceptable unto you: for if ſo, my ſelf, (who have been forced through whole Foreſts of bryars, by the malice of the times) of all men living, have the leaſt reaſon to whiſper theſe ſoft numbers in your eares. I dare not ſo much injure the enſuing work, as to crave pardon of the ſevereſt Stoick or auſtereſt Cynick for my wantonneſs, ſince not a looſe line is ſcatter'd throughout this Volume, as alſo, becauſe I know (in private) the curſteſt carper of them all, will hug me for their pleaſure (if not for their profit) For thoſe nice Ignoramuſſes who ſlight all Courſhip as laſcivious, al Complements as trivial and enormous, I ſhall onely ſay this unto them, that love (I mean not ſuch as that of Semiramis, or Meſſalina) is the Author of all perfection: The greateſt Doctors are but Dunces, till love hath refined them, and they know what his power is; they after that becoming witty and courtly Inditers: for neceſſity findeth out the art, the lovers ardent affection compelling him to finde out all waies for the attaining his Miſtreſs love; diſcourſing unto her his loyal affections in ſmooth or pleaſing termes, or elſe touching them ſweetly or daintily in writing curiouſly, and with a courtlike phraſe, which art becauſe I here undertake to teach, I have named my work The CARD of COURTSHIP; wherein are included ſuch variety of conceited Courtſhips, that (I dare boldly affirm it) you cannot wiſh for that favour, which you may not there gather. I beſeech you crop them with a courteous hand, which ſhall for ever oblige me to importune for you at Loves footſtool, beſeeching him to uſe you according to your ſeveral conſtitutions, granting you the full fruition of your deſires in all afety and tranquillity, So wiſhes
A Virgin licenſed by her Father to make choice of whom ſhe likes beſt for her husband, Imagine you hear one who dearly affects her, courting her after this manner: their names ſuppoſe to be AMANDUS, and JULIETTA.
NOw, Lady, your Fathers goodneſs hath left you to your owne diſpoſe; and I the admirer of your vertues, have free leave to preſent my beſt affections: Then ſave that creature, whoſe life depends on you; whoſe every power ownes not himſelf, but you: you are that Deity to whom my heart preſents its firſt devotion, and in a holy flame, remaines a Sacrifice, till you pleaſe to accept it.
I ſhould prove to my ſelf unjuſt, in the neglect of one that nobly loves me; therefore what affection I may beſtow, and yet retain my freedome (I mean that freedom, by which I may on juſt occaſion withdraw my heart) I were ingrateful ſhould I not preſent it.
May I become the ſcorne of time, and all mens hate purſue me, when I prove ſo foul, to give occaſion you call back your love.
Ceaſe theſe haſty proteſtations; I aſſure my ſelf, the pureneſs of your ſoul is without ſpot or blemiſh; and while you ſo continue, I ſhall boaſt me happy, i'th' glory of ſuch a choice.
O let me fly into your boſome! on your lip confirm my happineſs; there ſtudy ſome new way of number, to multiply my bliſs. The treaſuries of grace and nature were quite exhauſted, to accompliſh your perfections.
Fie, fie; leave for ſhame.
What, deareſt?
This ſuperfluous Language. I am none of thoſe Ladies that are enamoured on Poetick raptures, hugging the Verſe, but ſpitting at the Author: none of thoſe that are taken with flattering Acroſticks; and to have their names ſo disjoynted in an Anagram, that 'twould puzzle ten Magicians to put them together againe. I eſteem not Golden Language, and I'll tell you why; becauſe 'twas ſeldome beſtowed on man, but to gild over a Copper Soul within him.
Can you be ſo cruel, to deem my Language feign'd?
Nor am I. I grant you, Love and Poeſie are divine, commonly infus'd together: yet ordinarily, 'tis ty'd to rules of flattery.
Far be it from me, to ſpeak a Language ſhould diſpleaſe your ear.
Well; more Oratory would but bring the reſt into ſuſpicion whether it be real: let it ſuffice I love you; and if all occurrents ſute my expectation, it ſha'n't be long ere Hymen ſeal the contract. Farewell.
Farewell, excellent Miſtreſs.
FLavia, I kiſs your hands.
Eugenia, I pray you pardon me; I ſaw you not.
I ſaith you have fixt thoughts, draw your•ys inward, that you ſee not your friends before you.
True; and I think, the ſame that trouble you.
Then 'tis the love of a young Gentleman,•nd bitter hatred of an old dotard.
'Tis ſo, witneſs your brother Franciſco, and••e rotten carcaſs of old Rodorigo: had I a hundred•earts, I ſhould want room to entertain his love,•nd the others hate.
I could ſay as much, were't not ſin to ſlan•er the dead. Miſerable wenches! how have we•ffended our fathers, that they ſhould make us the•rice of their dotage, the medicines of their griefs,•hat have more need of Phyſick our ſelves? I thank••y dead mother that left me a womans will, in her•aſt Teſtament; that's all the weapons we poor Gyrles can uſe; and with that will I fight, againſt•ather, friends, and kindred, and either injoy Fo•o•oſco, or die in the field in's quarrel.
You are happy, that can withſtand your•ortune with ſo merry a reſolution.
Why? ſhould I twine my armes to cables,••t up all night like a watching Candle, and diſtill••y brains, through my eye-lids. Your brother loves me and I love your brother; and where theſe two conſent, I would fain ſee a third could hinder us.
Alas, our ſex is moſt wretched; no ſooner born,•ut nurs'd up from our Infancy in continual ſlave••y; no ſooner able to pray for our ſelves, but they5 braile and hud us ſo with ſowre awe of parents, that we dare not offer to bate our deſires: and whereas it becomes men to vent their amorous paſſions at their pleaſure, we (poor ſouls) muſt rake up our affections in the aſhes of a burnt heart, not daring to ſigh without excuſe of the ſpleen, or fit of the mother
I will plainly profeſs my love; 'tis honeſt, chaſte, and ſtaines not modeſty Shall I be married (by my fathers compulſion) to an old mandrake, who is able to beget nothing but groanes; a hunting-golding, a faln pack-horſe? No, no; I'll ſee him freeze to cryſtal firſt. In other things, good Father, I am your moſt obedient daughter; but in this, a pure woman. And in troth, the temper of my blood tells me, I was never born to ſo cold a misfortune: my Genius whiſpers me in the car, and ſweares, We ſhall injoy our Loves; fear it not, wench: and ſo farewell, good Elavia, farewel, farewel.
Farewel, merry-hearted Eugenia.
HE that ſaies I am not in love, he lies de cap a pe: for I am Idle, choicely neat in my cloathes, valiant, and exream witty; my meditations are loaded with Metaphors; Songs and Sonnets flow from me as fluently, as Heigh, gee; not one ſhakes his tail, but I•igh out a paſſion: thus do I to my miſtreſs; but•las, I kiſs the dog, and ſhe kicks me. I never ſee a wanton Filly, but I ſay, There goes Beancha; nor a luſty ſtrong Als, but I remember my ſelf, and ſit down to conſider what a goodly race of Mules would inherit, if ſhe were willing: onely I want atterance, and that's a main mark of love too.
Corvino, What price bear Wheat and Saffron, that your Band's ſo ſtiff and yellow? why Corvino, not a word! Prethee what buſineſs in Town? how do all at Totnam? Grown mute! what do you bring from the Country?
There 'tis; now are my floud-gates drawn, and I'll ſurround her. What have I brought, ſweet bit of beauty? a hundred thouſand ſalutations o'the elder houſe, to your moſt Illuſtrious honour and worſhip.
To me theſe Titles? is your basket full of nothing elſe?
Full of the fruits of love, moſt reſplendent Lady; a preſent to your worthineſs, from your worſhips poor vaſſal Corvino.
My life on't he ſcrap'd theſe Complements from his Cart, the laſt load he carried to the City. But what have you read, Corvino, that makes you grow thus eloquent? why, you talk nothing but warbling Rhapſodies!
Sweet Madam, I read nothing, but the lines of your Ladiſhips countenance; and deſire onely to kiſs the skirts of your Garments, if you vouchſafe me not the happineſs of your white hands.
Come, give me your basket, and take it.
O ſweet! now will I never waſh my mouth after, nor breath, but at my Noſtrils, leſt I loſe the taſte of her fingers. Beancha, I muſt tell you a ſecret, if you'l make much on't.
As it deſerves: what is't?
I love you, dear morſel of modeſty, I love, and ſo truly, that I'll make you miſtreſs of my thoughts, Lady of my revenues, and commit all my moveables into your hands; that is, I give you an arneſt kiſs, in the high way of Matrimony.
This the end of all the buſineſs?
Is this the end of all this buſineſs, moſt beautiful, and moſt worthy to be moſt beautiful Lady?
Hence fool, hence; farewel Co•idon.
Why now ſhe knowes my buſineſs, ſhe put up the fruit in her lap, and threw away the basket; 'tis a plain ſigne ſhe abhors the words, and embraces the meaning. O lips! no lips, but leaves beſmear'd with Mildew. O dew! no dew, but drops of Honey-combs. 'Tis a rare morſel of dripping: O how happy ſhall I be to recreate my chine with her! I'll follow her, were I ſure to be baſted with Salt and Vinegar.
FAin would I meet the Gentleman.
Piſh, Faine would you meet him? why do you not take the courſe?
The means is eaſily reſolv'd, what thinkſt thou?
Thus: meet him at Mr. Strouds houſe, the Phenix; there's a Goſſips feaſt to morrow-night.
O but my husbands Jealous Eyes!
Here, Lady, convey my heart unto him in this Jewel: againſt you ſee me next, you ſhall perceive I have profited: in the mean ſeaſon, tell him I am a Priſoner yet on the Maſters ſide, my husbands Jealouſie, that maſters him as he doth maſter me; and as a Keeper that locks Priſoners up, is himſelf priſon'd under in his owne key, Even ſo my husband, in reſtraining me, With the ſame ward bais his own liberty.
I'll tell him how you wiſht it; and I'll weare My wits to nothing, but theſe clouds ſhall cleare.
GOod morrow, ſweet Beatrice; in exchange of this kiſs, ſee what I have brought thee from thee from the Exchange.
What mean you, Sir, by this?
Gheſs that by the circumſtance: here's a Ring, wear't for my ſake; twenty Angels, pocket them, you fool. Come, come, I know thou art a Maid: ſay nay, and take them.
Sir, I beſeech you, faſten no more upon mee, then I may at eaſe ſhake off. Your gift I reverence,9 yet refuſe: and I pray tell me, Why do do you make ſo many errands hither, ſend me ſo many Letters, faſten on me ſo many Favours? what's your meaning in't?
Hark in thy car, I'll tell thee: Is't poſſible ſo ſoft a body ſhould have ſo hard a ſoul? Nay now I know my penance; you will be angry and ſchool me for tempting your modeſty. A fig for this modeſty; it hinders many a good man from many a good turne, and that's all the good it doth: but if thou but kneweſt, Beatrice, how I love thee, thou wouldſt be far more tractable. Nay, I bar chiding when thou ſpeakſt: I'll ſtop thy lips if thou doſt but offer an angry word: by this hand I'll do't, and with this hand too.
Sir, if you love me, as you ſay you do, ſhow me the fruits thereof.
The ſtock I can; thou mayſt ſee the fruits heare after.
Can I believe you love me, when you ſeek the ſhipwrack of my honour?
Honour! there's another word to flap in a mans mouth. Honour! why ſhouldeſt thou and I ſtand upon our honour, that were neither of us yet right worſhipful?
I am ſorry, Sir, I have lent ſo large an ear to ſuch a bad diſcourſe; and I proteſt, after this hour, never to do the like. I muſt confeſs, of all the Gentlemen that ever courted me, you have poſſeſs'd the beſt part in my thoughts: but this courſe language exiles you quite from thence. Sir, had you come, inſtead of changing this my honeſt name into a Strumpet's, to have honour'd me with the chaſte title of an honeſt wife, I had reſerv'd an ear for all your ſuits; but ſince I ſee your rudeneſs finds no limit, I'll leave you to your luſt.
You ſhall not, Beatrice.
Then keep your tongue within more moderate bounds.
I will; as I am vertous, I will. I told you the ſecond word would be a mariage: it makes a man forfeit his freedome, and walk up and down ever after, with a chaine at his heels. Marriage is like Daedalus his Labyrinth; and being once in, there's no finding the way out. Well, I love this little property moſt intolerably; and I muſt ſet her on the laſt, though it coſt me all the ſhooes in my ſhop. Well, Beatrice, thou ſeeſt my Stomach is come down: thou haſt my heart already, there's my hand.
But in what way?
Nay I know not the way yet; but I hope to finde it hereafter, by your good direction.
I mean, in what manner? in what way?
In the way of Marriage, in the way of honeſty. I hope thou art a maid, Beatrice.
Yes Sir, and I accept it; in exchange of this, you ſhall receive my heart.
A bargain, and there's earneſt on thy lips.
WElcome, fair one; I hope my pardon's ſeal'd, for this preſum'ng on what you might call rudeneſs
You have ſhap'd an Apology altogether needleſs, to excuſe a guilt, when none appeares: I11 owe much to your vertue; it doth command my thoughts.
Which are ſo glorious, I muſt admire the actions that expreſs them. I hope your judgement doth not call it ill, that my intemperate anger, being grounded on vertuous ſuſpicion (laſt time I ſaw you) did tranſport me beyond a moderate paſſion: I am ſatisfied; your innocence hath clear'd my jealouſie.
Sir, 'tis a noble reſolution: pure love's a vertue Nature onely teacheth, and born with generous ſpirits that diſtinguiſh the object truely; ſlighting thoſe reſpects, that work on groſter minds.
Faireſt, I ſhall uſe no other circumſtance, or paint a paſſion my reaſons eye allowes, though my firſt ſenſe convey'd the knowledge of your outward form and full perfections, which muſt needs contain a richer inſide: Vertue ſeldome dwells, but in a glorious frame. I love your goodneſs, which outvies your beauty: in my new-born wiſhes, I have determin'd you the partner of all that's mine: my eſtate's not very mean; if it were, Zeal ſhould ſupply: I'd ſtrive to merit the free gift of your ſelf; and in exchange, returne my ſelf.
Sir, I could anſwer you in your own words: for I preſume your thoughts are noble, like your ſelf, unmixt with flattery courtſhips inſection, and the poiſonous breath that makes pure love ſuſpected, whether it be ſound, or plaiſter'd, to deceive our credulous weakneſs, till it hath poſſeſt us with ſome foul leproſie. Your handmaid yeelds to what agrees with honour; if the meanneſs of her condition may preſume to call her honeſt credit ſo.
How do you bleſs me, as ſuddenly as my12 deſires could ſhape a means to work it! inſtantly the Church ſhall ſeal the bargain.
Would you not deliberate? Thoſe acts are laſting, and concern the being of all your after-life.
'Tis heavens providence that hath diſpos'd it: thus I ſeal my vowes.
I Sent you a Letter, Madam.
I received it (Sir) to my great happineſs.
How did you relliſh it, Lady?
Excellent well (Sir) you write moſt elegantly. Oh that I had your Genius!
I have twenty as good as theſe lying by me; they ſhall be all at your ſervice.
You are too much a Courtier: I muſt chide you: I did never deſerve thoſe Epithets your Paper throwes upon me.
Epithets! I beſeech you, Lady, to impute that to the fretfulneſs of my brain. If any thing rare ſlipt my pen, whereby I may incur your Ladiſhips indignation, I'll recant it publikely.
I will enjoyne you no ſuch penance, for 'tis an injury eaſily remitted: 'tis the glory, they ſay, of Lovers, to Hyperbolize.
Hyperbolize! What's that? I have not the word yet in my Alphabet. I hope, Lady, you harbour a better opinion of me, then to imagine I would Hyperbolize with you; that were immodeſt.
Not at all (Sir) I think.
By my faith (Lady) but it is: do you think I know not what Hyperbolizing is? that were ſimplicity. If any thing within my letters may be drawn within conſtruction of Hyperbolizing, condemn not me for it: by my ſervice, Lady, I had no intention to ſtretch ſo far to your diſhonour; it ſhall•each me wit to write my Letters hereafter.
Sir, you do me too much ſatisfaction, your error being a ſmal one.
'Tis your favour, when I commit a Peccadille againſt your brightneſs: I confeſs I deſerve to be extinguiſhed your preſence for it. I did love you, Lady, (as I remember) when I was an Infant.
How (Sir!) I hardly underſtand you.
We are infants, you will grant, when we cannot ſpeak; and I lov'd you full five months and a halfe ere I had power to tell you of it, I am certain.
I was not worth ſo much (Sir.)
Nay, for that (Lady) I'll ſhew my ſelf deſerving: were you worthy, it were leſs art of mine to love you; that were a poor thing: I do not ſtand on worth, Lady; I would not have you think ſo ignobly of me, that I affect you for your worth; I had rather (upon my honour) have you in your ſmock, then all the Ladies in the world ſtarke naked.
Now your language is coarſe.
My love is ſure, and like the Sun tranſparent.
Now you complement; I know you are excellent at it.
Troth not I, Lady; I cannot complement; I do but refulgent your beauty, whoſe mellifluous voice peirces the Air: 'faith, Lady, credit me, I ne'r could complement in my life. Let me ſee;
There are Poetical furies in the City; but I converſe not with them.
Lady, I do but piddle, a pretender, I know nor how to complement.
You now (Sir) complement unto the height.
Alas, not I, I cannot make verſes neither.
You are an excellent Poet, I perceive (Sir.)
I'll tell you, Lady, a ſtrange thing; you ſee theſe trifles: before I was in love, I could not have made an Acroſtick in a day, ſometimes two.
Now you can make Chronograms.
I think I can; and Anagrams, for a need.
Sir, you are wondrouſly improv'd; Love has inſpir'd you richly; I perceive Cupid is a mute too.
I cannot ſleep anights, for the multitude of Verſes that are capering in my skull.
I wonder you are not mad.
You may, but I have a gift to help it; I allow my ſelf ſet times to vent them, they would blow me up elſe.
As how, I pray (Sir?) I long to hear this.
Why thus: in the morning, when I have ſaid my prayers in verſe (which fall from me, and I ne'r think on 'em) next my heart I ſcribble out an Ode: after my breakfaſt, I fall upon a Satyr: when I have rail'd my ſelf into a freſh ſtomach (you underſtand me) a matter of two hours I dream, as it comports with our Britiſh Bards to ſleep; then, I ſay, I dream familiarly an Heroick Poem.
Dream! how mean you (Sir?)
Lady, while you live, your dreaming Poe•s are the beſt, and have diſtilled raptures; I mean, ſpirits that converſe with them, and reach them what to write. This I ſet down before I eat againe; after, I walk upon the ſtrength of ſupper into the Park, and ruminate an Elegie: at return, I do diſcourſe of Epigrams, and Epitaphs, upon ſome one or other of my kinred.
'Tis now your courſe for your Heroick Poem; 'twere beſt you ſlept (Sir:) I'll take my leave.
SIr, I cannot ſinde how I am guilty of any cauſe may prompt you to ſuſpect either my love on duty.
I believe thee (dear Roſana:) but this injunction is ſo ſevere and ſtrange, it cannot chuſe but puzzle thy conſent at firſt.
Sir, make it known; I cannot be ſo flow in the performance of your will, as you are to reveal it.
Thy breath is far more ſweeter then the ſmoak aſcending from the Phenix funeral-pile; I could kiſs thee, even engender on thy lips.
You were not wont to be thus pleas'd: ſhew me, good Sir, which way I may require your paſſion; ſpeak the ſuit you talk on.
Dear Roſana, I do love thee, love thee, and would enjoy thee.
How (Sir) dare you divulge to me ſuch brutiſhneſs? indeed the beaſts promiſcuouſly do mix, but man made in the likeneſs of the Gods, orders his actions to a ſafer end. Fare you well (Sir) I dare not hear you further.
DEareſt Miſtreſs, when ſhall my ardent love be made compleatly happy by the enjoying that, which it makes the object of deſire? ſhall this fair morning be conſecrated to Hymen?
Worthy Sir, ſo great is the Antipathy betwixt your birth and fortune and my condition, whoſe inferiour aime dares not be levell'd higher then its equality, makes (cowards policy) fear to be ſole and true excuſe of my delay; for (Sir) were you once ſatiated with the thing you call pleaſure, your edge taken off, I know not what there is in me can whet new appetite, or revive a dying love.
Why? I'll keep thee like my wife; be conſtant to my pleaſure, be ſure I'll ſerve thy will with full content: my credit 's ſafe: to keep a Miſtreſs youths excuſe may ſerve, but an inferiour match brands my poſterity.
Sir, I do hate your baſe deſires; may your ſoul luſts ſtill keep you companie, until abuſe and ſhame teach you amendment; what a brave Orator is ſin! how it can paint it ſelf with golden words of pleaſure and delight!
I never could brook theſe women-preachers: Fare you well, Lady.
Would you could (Sir) ſo ſoon take leave of Luſt.
NOw, Lady, are you in haſt? or do you ſlight a preſence may challenge your obſervance? I am come confident of my merit, to inform you, you ought to yeild me the moſt ſtrict regard your love can offer.
Sir, I am not (though I affect not ſelf-conceited boaſt) ſo ignorant of my worth, but I deſerve from him who will enjoy me, a reſpect more fair and court like.
The blunt phraſe of war is my accuſtom'd language; yet I can tell you y'are very handſome, and direct your looks with a becoming poſture; I muſt ſpeak in the Heroick Dialect, as I uſe to court Bellona, when my deſires aime at a glorious victory.
You'll ſcarce conquer a Lady with this ſtern diſcourſe; Mars did not woo the Queen of love in armes, but wrapt his batter'd limbs in Perſian ſilkes, or coſtly Tyrian purples, ſpoke in ſmiles to win her tempting beauty.
I'll bring well-manag'd troops of Souldiers to the fight, draw big battalia's like a moving field of ſtanding corn blown one way by the winde, againſt the frighted enemy; the Van ſhall ſave the Rere a labour, and by me marſhal'd ſhall fold bright conqueſt in the curles. Peneian Daphne, who did fly the Sun, ſhall give her boughes to me for raviſhment, to inveſt my awful front; and this ſhall proſtrate (ſpight of all oppoſition) your nice ſoul to my commanding merit.
Theſe high tearms were apt to fright an enemy, or beget terrour in flinty boſomes. Can you think a timerous Lady can affect her feare, yield the ſecurity of her peace and life to the protection of her horrour? you muſt not perſwade my thoughts, that you who vary to the ſcene of love, can act it preſently.
Slighted (Lady!) 'tis a contempt inhumane, and deſerves my utmoſt ſcorne: I muſt finde one more pliant.
YOu have no fear (Gentilla) to truſt your ſelf with me.
I can (Sir) forget my ſelf ſo much, as to forget you are my Lord, &c. and in a wilderneſs could have no thought, with the leaſt prejudice upon your vertue.
You have the greater innocence at home; my intents are fair enough, and you may ſtand the danger of a queſtion: pray how old are you?
Although it be not held a welcome complement to our ſex, my duty bids me not diſpute. I am Fifteen, my mother ſays, (my Lord.)
And are you not in love?
I muſt not charge my ſelf with ſo much Ignorance, to anſwer that I underſtand not what it meanes. I know the word, but never could apply the ſence, or finde in it a paſſion more then ordinary.
Cupid hath loſt his quiver then; he could not be arm'd, and let you ſcape, whoſe ſole captivity would be more glory then the conqueſt made, (as Poets feigne) upon the Gods.
'Tis language with which you are pleas'd to mock your humble hand-maid.
But this aſſures him blind.
He would deſerve to loſe his eyes indeed, if he ſhould aime a ſhaft at me.
Lady, you have a heart.
To which no other flame can approach, then that which ſhall light it to obedience of your will, and my good mothers.
Obedience to my will? what if it were my will that you ſhould love?
Sir, I do love.
Love with the warm affection of a Miſtreſs?
Him whom I affect (Sir) muſt not preſume to fold me in his arms, till Hymens torches ſhall burn bright. Him whom I love, muſt be my huſband (Sir.)
What if ſome great man court you for his friend? This age affords few women, but they will now and then hold up their laps, and let love enter in a golden ſhowre: But I ſhall take a fitter time for this — Your ſervitor.
Your Hand-maid.
HOw, and how ſtands the buſineſs?
Nay, you know beſt.
Perceive you not an alteration, or tranſmutation in my outward perſon?
Methinks your words fall off your tongue with a more becoming grace.
Think ye ſo? be wiſe and catch 'em as they fall; they may inſpire you.
you are ſtrangely Metamorphos'd ſince I ſaw you.
O Lady, If your heart be ſtone, I would it were broken.
I have heard men wiſh their Miſtreſs heart wounded, never broke.
P'ſhew, my love is not like other mens, that will whine, and cry, look pale, and wear night-caps; no, my love is a bouncing love, and makes no more of cracking a Ladies heart, then a Squirrel of a nut: but hark you a word in you ear (for I would not have any body know it) I am inſpir'd.
Now by Diana, is it true?
I have ſaid it; be wiſe, and have me.
O you men have ſuch ſtrange waies to play upon poor women!
Nay there's but one way I'd play upon you.
And will diſſemble moſt egregiouſly.
Who, I diſſemble? why I'll be judg'd by all the world; yet all my acts are not ſimple.
Nay, I almoſt believe you have not a thought but what is meerly innocent.
If you'll but marry me, there is not that deſire or inclination, which you ſhall have, but I will ſtrive with my beſt part to ſatisfie; what would you more?
I muſt confeſs you promiſe fair:
And will perform as well.
Alas! my Virgin-feares bid me I ſhould not yeild. I know not what to do.
Come, I know what to do, and you'll but ſay I once.
Why then I wholly yeild me yours.
That's well ſaid, this kiſs in earneſt; come we'll not ſtand long upon the buſineſs, but be marryed preſently: I muſt provide Ribbond for the Courtiers; but that coſt may be ſpar'd, now I think on't, for their Hats are ſo ſtuff'd with Favours already, they'll finde no room to wear 'em: come then march forwards.
YOu ſee how tender I am of the quiet and peace of your affection, and what great ones I put off in your favour.
You do wiſely, exceeding wiſely! and when I have ſaid, I thank you for't, be happy.
And good reaſon, in having ſuch a bleſſing.
When you have it; but the Bait is not, yet ready; ſtay the time, while I triumph by my ſelf. Rivals, by your leaves; I have wip'd all your noſes, without a Napkin; you may cry Willow, Willow; I'll onely ſay, Go by, go gaze now where you pleaſe: your lips may water, like a Puppies, over a Firmety-pot, while Sylli out of his two-leav'd Cherryſtone-diſh drinks Nectar. I cannot hold out any longer; Heaven forgive me, 'tis not the firſt Oath I have broke; Lady, I muſt take a kiſs or two, onely for a preparative.
By no means; if you forſwear your ſelf, we ſhall not proſper: I had rather loſe my longing.
Pretty ſoul, how careful it is of me! Let me buſs yet thy little dainty foot for't: that I am ſure is out of my Oath.
Why? if thou canſt diſpence with it ſo far, I'll not be ſcrupulous; ſuch a favour my amorous Shoomaker ſometimes ſteales.
O moſt rare Leather! I do begin at the loweſt, but in time I may grow higher.
Fie, you dwell too long there: riſe, prethee riſe.
O I am up already.
Madam, THat without warrant I preſume to trench upon your privacies, may argue rudeneſs of manners. But the free acceſs your princely courteſie vouchſafes to all that come to pay their ſervices, gives me hope to finde a gracious pardon.
If you pleaſe not to make that an Office in your conſtruction, which I receive as a large favour from you, there needs not this Apology.
You continue as you were ever, the greateſt myſtery of fair entertainment.
You are, Sir, the Maſter, and in the Country have learnt to out-do all that in Court is practis'd; but why ſhould we talke at ſuch diſtance? Sir, give me leave to ſay you are too punctual: You are welcome, Sir; therefore ſit and diſcourſe as we here uſed, for we have been more familiar.
Your Excellence knows ſo well how to command, that I can never erre when I obey you.
LEt me not be thought rude (beautious Miſtreſs) that being altogether a ſtranger to you, I dare aſſume ſuch conſidence, as to proclaim my ſelf your Votary, and without a bluſh ſay I love you. If you beheld your ſelf with my eyes, or ſympathized of my paſſion (which though young of growth, hath a firm fixed root) you would not (I preſume) tax me of giddie raſhneſs, that I ſuffer my ſelf ſo ſoon to be bound in loves fetters.
Sir, you are an over-haſty lover, to imagine I can at firſt ſight of your perſon be ſurprized, and yield: they muſt be ſtrong allurements, muſt rempt a baſhful Virgin, ſtill inur'd to no companion but her feares and bluſhes, to give her heart away, and live in thraldome to a ſtranger.
Love (bright Miſtreſs) has Eagles eyes; it can beget aquaintance, even in a moment, ſuddenly as time, the time that does ſucceed it.
Sir, it ſeems you have ſtudied Complement.
Sweereſt beauty, to make the addreſſes of my love-ſick heart plain and apparent to you, that you may ſearch through my ſoul, and find it all your creature, give me your patient hearing.
'Tis a requeſt might tax my manners, ſhould I deny it to one that 's noble (as your peron promiſes.) Uſe your pleaſure.
Which conſiſts in viewing your bright beauty, the Idea of all perfections which the Jealous heavens durſt ever lend to earths divineſt Lady. Mine (Lady) is a holy intellectual zeal, paſt imitation, ſhould thoſe who trace me take the conſtanty of Swans, or never-changing Turtles.
Sir, he's a fooliſh lover, who, to gain his miſtreſs, dares not promiſe what you have utter'd: but I muſt have more then verbal aſſurance of your love.
By your faire ſelf, I am real; do intend what I have told you, with as much true zeal as Anchorites, do their prayers; and do implore you, as you have mercy in you, to take pity upon my loves ſtern ſufferings, and redreſs them, by your conſent to take me for your husband.
I dare not, Sir, to give away my ſelf upon ſo ſlender arguments, as your owne bare report of true love: time and experience may produce, what yet I muſt not hope to hear on.
Honor me then ſo much, as to permit me wait you home: and when that task is done, and I muſt part from you, as exiles from their native ſoile, pray think on me, as one that has plac'd his full extent of bliſs in your injoying: think you are the Landwrack, by which the brittle Veſſel of my hopes muſt through loves ſwelling ocean be directed, to a ſafe harbour.
You are too powerfull in your ſpeech: you'l put your ſelf unto a tedious trouble to gain a thing; which when you are poſſeſt of, you will repent your travel.
YOu muſt not acoaſt her with••ſhing, as you were ſo wzie, with your Lady, Sweet Lady, or moſt ſuper-excellent Lady; nor in the Spaniſh garb, with a ſtate-face, as you had been eating15 of a Radiſh, and meant to ſwallow her for Mutton to't: nor let your words come rumbling forth, other'd with a good full-mouth'd Oath, I love you: but ſpeak the language of overcomming Lovers; I do not mean that ſtrange pedantick phraſe us'd by ſome gallants who do aime at wit, and make themſelves ſtarke aſſes by't; praiſe their Miſtreſſes by the Sun and Stars, while the poor Gyrles imagine they mean the ſignes their Mercers or Perfumers inhabit at: But you muſt in gentle, free, and genuine phraſe, deliver your true affections; praiſe your Miſtreſſes Eye, her Lip, her Noſe, her Check, her Chin, her Neck, her Breſt, her Hand, her Foot, her Leg, her every thing; and leave your Roſes and your Lilies for your Country-Froes to make Noſegaies of.
ARe you ſtill reſolute (my deareſt Miſtreſs) to perſiſt in your ſtrange tyranny, and ſcorne my conſtant love?
Do not, Sir, abuſe that ſacred title which the powers celeſtial glory in, by aſcribing it to your not deſires; pray rather clothe them in their own attributes; term them your luſt, Sir, you wild irregular luſt.
This is coyneſs, a cunning coyneſs, to make me eſteem at a high rate, that Jewel which you•eem to part from ſo unwillingly: (Merchants uſe•t, to put bad ware away:) think how much gold and ſilver thou ſhalt gain, in the exchange of one16 poor trivial commodity: that thing call'd Honour, which you ſo much ſtand upon, is meerly an imaginary voice, an unſubſtantial eſſence; and yet for that thou ſhalt have real pleaſures, ſuch as Queens, prone to delicious Luxury, would cover, to ſate their appetites.
Away, Sir, you have a canker'd ſoul; and know, Sir, not your eſtate (were you rich Croeſus heire) ſhall buy my honour.
Pray, ſweet, forgive me; ſeal it with one chaſte kiſs, and henceforth let me adore you as the ſaver of my honour (had I meant as I ſaid.) My truth and ſames preſerver, by heaven, I did but try you (I muſt confeſs) having a great amb't'on to prove them lyers, who extol'd your worth. Had you yelded to my deſires (my looſer heart by your conſent extinquiſht) I ſhould have eſteem'd (yea, divulg'd it to the world) that you were but a piece of counterfeit gold, a fair houſe haunted with Goblins, which none but a mad-man would enter to poſſeſs: but I have found your worth, and beg your pardon.
You have it, Sir, although 'twas not well done to tempt a womans weaknes. Fare you wel, Sir.
Farewell, the beſt of women.
SWeet Beancha, thou art entirely loved of her whom I love more then my own life; thou art preſent at all her critical minutes; rub'ſt her toes, and helpſt to pull her ſmock ore her ears: prethee, when opportunity ſhall conſpire with time, and thou hear'ſt thy Miſtreſs praiſing or pitying her wooers (mentioning me amongſt the reſt) let me have thy applauſive vote: I know thou art prevalent with her, 'bove all her other menials.
Sir, you have amply oblig'd my gratitude, and (indeed) have bought my ſuffrage. Sir, expect my utmoſt oratory on your behalf.
Sweeteſt Beancha, I am ſpaciouſly bound to thee, and ſhall ever continue thy beneficial friend: prethee wear this Diamond for luck-ſake: there's twenty good Angels immur'd in that one ſtone; I give them as thy guard: take heed, Beancha, that thou prove true unto me, the ſtone wil loſe its vertue elſe.
Fear not my fidelity: Sir, did you but know how I ſollicite for you —
Nay, my Beancha, do not think I have leaſt doubt of thy paſt paines, or future perſeverence. If I obtain this Gentlewoman, thou ſhalt have cauſe to thank that fate that deſtin'd thee for this employment. But prethee deal candidly with me; how ſtands the affections of thy miſtreſs towards her fiery ſuitor Mr. E. N? I fear, the vaſtneſs of his wealth will excuſe the ſhallowneſs of his wit, and make him gratious in her eyes.
Never doubt him, Sir: my Miſtreſs, though ſhe hold it not convenient quite to eject him from her preſence, harbours not one good thought of him: ſhe hath profeſt to me in private, that in her eſteem he's a meer ſtick of ſugar-candy; and indeed, ſhe ſees quite thorow him. But, if my deſires do not delude my hopes, you are the Jaſon, Sir, that win this Medea, and the Golden Fleece to boot: nor do I doubt it.
Thou ſing'ſt ſweetly in my ears: touch but this ſtring, and I could ſtand a froſty winters night, ſhrowded but with my ſhirt, to hear thy melody. If our united ſtrength can but take in this fort, we'll mutually triumph, and ſhare one happineſs. Some two hours hence, I mean to view my goddeſs. Farewell, my beſt Beansha.
Your beſt wiſhes wait on you, worthy Sir.
YOur pardon (lovely widow) for my bold intruſion. The blind boy hathwings, to ſigniſie expedition; is ever arm'd, to ſhow that he can make way (if need be) through the ſtricteſt oppoſition. The fame of your feature, & not the report of your wealthy poſſeſſions, hath put me upon this practice (I mean, this unexpected viſiting you) which ſo many mortals (either funiſhed with too much temerity, or elſe not qualified with ſufficient audacity) have (hitherto) feared to attempt, weakened (it ſeems) with a double wound; the auſterity of your deportment, and the radiant refulgencie of your Star-like eyes: the firſt more painfull then the latter; and the latter more inſupportable then the firſt.
Indeed, Sir, you have amply diſcovered your ſelf to be more raſh then wiſe, more giddy then grave, and more perverſe then politick. What have you heard of me, that might incourage you to this ſupercilious ſawcineſs? I muſt tell you, Sir, that you have proclaimed your owne unworthineſs, with your owne tongue, by this wayward way of wooing. Do you think, Sir, to ingratiate your ſelf into my favour by your daring Impudence? He that preſcribes himſelf the way to gain a good opinion from me, muſt win it by his obſequious care, not by his abrupt arrogancie.
Fair Widow, let me implore remiſſion for this firſt fault; my future carriage towards you, ſhall be but one contiuned ſeries, commixt of love19 and ſervice. When I firſt hearkned to the breath of Fame (too thrifty in divulging your rare feature) I felt the flames of true affection hovering about my heart: but this inch of time that my eyes have been ſo bleſt to gaze on your bright beauty, Cupid hath caſt all Aeina in my boſome; and without you be pleas'd to afford me love, I ſhall expire in flames, and be converted to an heap of Cinders.
You have the art for to paint out a paſſion: but were it granted Cupid thus hath caught you, count you me, Sir, ſo levious, as to returne a grant of what (perhaps) is not in me to give, unto a man meerly a ſtranger unto me (before this interview) an acquaintance of half an hours growth? Sir, I muſt know your breeding, and your worth; your ſubſtance, and the temper of your mind, ere I aſſent unto a ſecond marriage: but if heaven keep me ſixt to my reſolves, were there no better feeders of Pedigrees, then I am like to prove, Nature will have no cauſe for to complain of her too numerous breed.
Dear Widow, you ſhall have a full teſtimony of me: my birth's not mean, my education hath been vertuous; nor is my eſtate yet ſunk beneath the degree of fear. But do not ſay, (nor for both the Indies think) you'l end your daies in ſolitude, and like the melancholy Phenix, ingender with your ſelf; twill-give the babling vulgar cauſe to think, that your dead husband was no compleat man; or that your ſelf, by ſome default in nature, takes no felicity in amorous acts. O ſlie this ſingle life! Venus hath two Doves to draw her Chariot: Daphne was metamorphos'd to a tree; curel Anaxeret, to a marble ſtatue: but flexible Ariadne, converted to a glorious Star, her browes ingirt with a bright wreathe of Saphires. Nor was there any20 kind and gentle ſemale, propitious to her lover, or her wedded mate, but the all-powerful Ports have divulg'd them for eminent conſtellations, pleaſant flowers, and mates for Goddeſſes.
This is vain Poetry. But Sir, becauſe I will not ſeem too rigid, or chriſten my ſelf cruel; hereafter, when I know you better, have learnt what you have been, and what you are, you may expect as much as may be thought, from her who hugs her not proudly obſtinate; muſt think him truly man, whom ſhe can honour; hates not the poor, yet loves not beggery; and would in all things be a compleat woman.
May I then have the promiſe of ſuch happineſs, as in the mean time, til your doubts are ſolv'd, to have acceſs unto you. By all things vertuous, no unbeſeeming errand, unbecoming geſture, or diſtaſteful act, ſhall give you cauſe to hate, or me to fear: onely debar me not ſometimes to ſee you.
You have your wiſh, Sir: as you are a Gentleman, I dare not to deny you ſuch a favour; yet let not your viſits be too frequent, too early in the morning, or too late at night. Sir, this large diſpenſation had not been, were I not confident of your noble thoughts, and what you (ſeemingly) ſincerely promiſe.
You bleſs me above meaſure.
MR. E.D. Bacchus hath much befriended me, to guide my feet to ſuch an happineſs as to imbrace you here, whoſe company I have21 ever called, my chiefe ſolace.
Sir, you are pleaſed to take notice of him, who is altogether unworthy your acquaintance, and whoſe utmoſt ambition is to be liſted amongſt the number of your humbleſt ſervants.
O friend! you ſtrive to be acute in your reſponſions, and would fain oblige me your creature, by your voluntary ſubmiſſiveneſs. With leave of your ſelf, and this your worthy friend, let this room hold all three. But why, dear friend, have you ſo long abſented your ſelf from my dwelling?
Sir, I hope you have not been in priſon, or have commenc'd a ſuit in Law, or been viſited with ſickneſs, that ſwiſt time (in your opinion) ſeems to flag his wings, or to have ſprain'd his feet. It is but ſix daies ſince (accompani'd with our loving mate Mr. I.R.) I ſupt with you and your fair wife, at your own manſion.
You have reſolv'd my querie. Six daies (ſaid you?) why to me (who love you) by computation it appeares ſix months. Pilades and Oreſtes ſlept beneath one roof; Damon and Pithius never took two waies: our friendſhip hath been long, let it be laſting. Do you not know my ſelf? all my Demeſticks, whatever I call mine (my wife excepted) are at your command.
Sir, I have ever been beholding to you, and do confeſs your many bountious favours are far beyond the hope of my requital: I love not, Sir, to heap upon the tally.
Now you wrong your judgement, and deſert, your firſt faire principles: this language doth imply, you dare not truſt my goodneſs: this (dear friend) deſerves ſevere amercement: I will preſcribe your penance; you ſhall for one whole fortnight reſt beneath my roof; nor22 eat nor drink but in my company; this to begin from the firſt minute that we leave this place: and as a tye unto this ſtipulation, pledge me this bowl of ſack.
You may command your creature; I'll pledge you, with a hearty zeal; although I fear you by this ſolemn contract have but found out a way to charge your ſelf. —
No more of that (dear friend.)
SWeeteſt, I hope your late refuſal of my love, is alter'd now, by your more gentle pity. My conſtancy carries more ſtrength about it, then to be blaſted with your firſt repulſe. Forc'd forward by the cauſe of my affection, I muſt again be advocate, and hope my ſuit will be effected.
Sir, I beſeech you, make me not thus the ſubject of your mirth or complement: your ſoul is too ſecure (however you are pleas'd to talk) in its owne manly vertues, from ſurprize of weak affection.
Your bright eyes, like heavens bleſt light, when from a miſt of clouds he peeps, and gilds the earth with brightneſs, can quicken and fire even marble hearts, with love; thaw ſouls of Ice. A malefactor's fears are more upon him ere he do come to his tryal, then when he hears the Judge pronounce the ſentence of his death; 'tis ſo with me; and I ſhould be more bleſt, to hear that voice of yours, with a ſevere refuſal ſtrike me dead, then live tormented in a ſad ſuſpence, ignorant of my deſtinies
Sir, could I frame my Virgine-thoughts to love, they ſhould be fix'd on you: but I am ſo well content and ſetled in a Virgin life, I cannot wiſh to change it.
Alas, fair maid, Virg'nity is but a ſingle good, a happineſs which, like a Miſers wealth, is as from others, ſo from your owne uſe, lockt up and cloſely cabin'd, ſince it admits no communication of its good. When you ſhall in the ſtate of marriage freely taſte Natures choice pleaſures, you will repent you much you ere affected a ſingle life.
You have prevail'd: receive me freely. I am yours for ever.
Let this kiſs ſeal the contract.
SIr, I am infinitely ſorry, that my emergent buſineſs will not permit me yet longer to enjoy your company.
Sir, you beſt know your owne occaſions; I ſhall not deſire to detain you a minute longer then you may ſafely ſwear 'twill prove no detriment unto your ſtate.
You are noble in all your deportments; and ſhall ingage me firmly, if you'll but pleaſe, about to morrow this time, to honour me with your perſon at my houſe.
Sir, I ſhall wait on you the hour you wiſh; but with aſſured hope to find you no nonreſident.
Elſe let me forfeit your fair friendſhip. Farewell, my worthy friend; I ſhall expect you.
Except great Jove once more contract two nights in one, to ſport with his Alemena, and Morpheus drive Sol's chariot, I will not fail. Much happineſs wait on you, Sir.
Save thee, ſweet parcel of paint; you come from the Oyl ſhop now.
How, Sirhah! from whence!
Why, from your ſcurvy face-phyſick. I have met thee often in this angle of the City. To behold thee not painted, inclines ſomewhat near a miracle. Theſe in thy face, were deep ruts, and foul ſloughs, the laſt progreſs thou mad'ſt to thy ſuburb-bawd. There was a Lady in France, that having had the Small Pox, flea'd the skin off her face, to make it more level; and where before ſhe look'd like a Nutmeg-grater, ever after ſhe reſembled an abortive hedge-hog.
You are a ſooliſh knave; do you call this painting?
No, no; but you call it carreening of an old morphew'd Lady, to make her diſimbogue again. There's rough-caſt phraſe, to your plaſtique. Farewell, old crone of Cappadocia.
Now the curſe of Cuckolds light upon thee.
Sir, I have too much intrencht upon your patience, to bring you thus far, for ſo poor a welcome.
You have oblig'd my gratitude above thought: your heart I ſee's as fairly ſpacious, as this your well-built, richly ſurniſht fabrick. I am too poor in Courtſhip, to expreſs how I accept this favour.
You abound in all perfections. Pleaſe you ſit, and taſte thoſe homely cates my houſe affords, which I preſent unto you with as awful love, as mortals offer incenſe to the Deities.
You prompt me what to ſay, Sir: thoſe words tranſvers'd, would better fit my utterance.
Pray, Sir, let this be but a formal entrance unto our future friendſhip: I am oblig'd to you for many favours; in the performance of which courteſies, you have ſhown your ſelf the legitimate ſon of your moſt worthy father, aſwell heire to his Vertues, as his Lands
Sir, Challenge all my ſervices, as your owne; command whatere is mine: all my faculties ſhall be imployed, to practiſe retribution.
Sir, I thank you, and ſhall be ever preſt to gratifie your goodneſs. Pray, Sir, eat; how relliſh you this Greekiſh wine?
'Tis pretious as the milk of Queens; I have not dranke the like: great Ottoman himſelf quaffs not a purer liquor. Sir, to our future amity.
I moſt cordially thank you. My houſe was never furniſht untill now, your preſence makes me happy.
Sir, You too much grace your ſervant.
Sir, you want what I wiſh, ſome choice diſhes, which would perſwade you feed more freely.
Lucullus, were he here himſelf, could not repine at this repaſt: I am no Gurmundizer, nor26 yet am guilty of their ridiculous geſtures, who muſt have every bit ſawc'd with this word, Sir, I beſeech you eate; and riſe as hungry, but more fooles by far, then when they ſat down.
You are in all reſpects your ſelf, Sir. But 'faith, ſince we're ſo opportunely met, let us not part ſo coolly. Though my owne wine be good, the miſchiefe is, I have no buſh hangs at my door, no linen aprons to ſqueak Anon, Sir: the name of Tavern, adds to our deſires. Me thinks abſurdities dance round about me, when I drink healths at home.
Sir, Bacchus will reward you for your courteſie entail'd unto his Prieſt. My ſervice waits upon you.
MY dear friend Valaſce, now in the name of good fellowſhip, what hath been the impediment that hath hindered you from viſiting me theſe many weeks? I hope you are not turn'd Stoick, nor in love with Cato's beard, or Diogenes his Tub. Are the Table-books, Bowling-allies, and Taverns, now grown uſeleſs? Thou wert a Courtier, when there was a Court. I hope theſe dog-daies are not ſo dangerous, but we may ſport and quaff with Imitation, and deal for wholeſome fleſh, without being at the charges to disburſe to Panders and Porters, for a cloudy conveyance to our owne lodgings.
Sir, You are mightily miſtaken, if you conceit I am one of Chryſippus Scholars (Ariſtippus I will allow to be my Maſter.) Theſe froward times cannot tranſmigrate an Anchorites ſoul into27 my breſt; no, I retaine my merry temper ſtill. I throw Size-ace, till I loſe to my ſhirt; bowle away Crownes as Counters; not give ore till my pockets look like the picture of famine, leane and empty; and I walk after the bowles with my hands behind me, to denounce who plaies faireſt, not daring to bet: there's a rub, you'll ſay. I am ſtill the ſame I was when you ſaw me laſt, in feature, geſture demeanour, and all other appurtenances; onely my will is not to you as formerly. I muſt tell you, Pedro, that you have forfeited the name of a friend: and by all my hopes, were it not that the thought of our former amity ſuppreſt thoſe flames of fury in my breſt, I now ſhould kill thee.
Valaſco, I know you think I am ſo much a man, as not to fear your worſt of anger, were you Alcides ſecond, and graſp'd Joves thunder bolt; much leſs with ſupple hams, and ſuppliant hands, to creep to you, and beg your abſolution. Had I been guilty of that breach of friendſhip, which you unkindly do ſuggeſt, I would maintaine and juſtifie my error, maugre your ſword or buckler. But how, Sir, have I wrong'd you?
The Blade Don Bombo, two hours ſince I met, who told me, eight daies ago you and he ſupt together at your Miſtreſs Scorpiona's lodging; where, in diſcourſe what truely-noble ſparks the Inns of Court now yeilded, he rankt me 'mongſt the reſt; but you with ſcornes and taunts, before your Miſtreſs, proclaim'd me nothing worth; a man of a dull ſenſe, onely a valiant voice; with many other moſt unfriendly terms, ſo baſe, I hate to name them.
Now by the Gods, Valaſco, that Rogue Don Bombo hath abus'd us both: thee, by a falſe & ſlanderous information; me — But I'll not ſtand to talk;28 I'll make cutworks in the villaines skin, and ſlice his throat ſo wide, next time he drinks his mornings draught, he ſhall go near to ſpil his liquor; he ſhall confeſs before you, or elſe under his hand recant this lye, and eke record himſelf a branded Raſcal. Will that atone you, and renew our loves?
I have ever harboured noble thoughts of you, and ſhall eſteem your friendſhip ever pretious, worthy the acceptance of a Deity. Chaſtiſe this Raſcal till he cries peccavi; and, like to broken bones, which, diſtocated by ſome unhappy accident, ſet by a skilful hand, unite more firm then ever, our friendſhip ſhall take birth anew; we'll be another Pilades and Oreſtes.
No more of this: my deeds ſhall ſpeak my real thoughts: let's to the Tavern, Bully, and there, o're full-crown'd cups, joyn our right hands. Ho, Coach-man! hurry us, in thy four-wheel'd pouch, to that Argolian Bachanalian Clifton, who keeps the golden Fleece ſecurely ſafe; yet hangs it as a ſigne, even at his door. His marble vault (alone) includes Nepenthe: the Co•ſick-grape is onely his. Away, away.
MR. Topſaile, your beſt wiſhes•nviron you; you ſee I keep my word.
Good faith I ſaw you not. All happineſs wait on you, ſweet Mr. Main Maſt; you are a ſtrict obſerver of your time.
I ever was ſo, Sir. Time's an old croſs-penny father, and muſt be waited on obſequiouſly,29 he fl es ye elſe. But what's the news from Neptune's Sea? how goes things in the great and watry world? are your ſhips rib'd with riches? is Aeolus propitious to your Vowes; his bag-cheek'd Boys not too robuſtious? Ha? I'm ſure I find a great decay of Trade. Tritons, attended by a crew of Sword-fiſhes, are turn'd moſt deſperate Pirates: no traffick, no commerce with forraigne Nations. Alas that ere I liv'd to ſee this day.
Had I had the ſage Vlyſſes power, for to ſeclude all windes from Seas ſave Zephyrus, my forraigne trade could not have been more proſperous, then till within theſe few years: but now, 'tis true (with ſtorms on land) perpetual guſts at Sea ſhake all commerce to nothing; yet I bear up ſtill, and as my name, Top and Top-gallant like, I plow on Neptune, and returne ſafely home, with all my purchaſes. Ceſars motto's mine, man: next him, I ſure ſhall be recorded t' have been dame Fortunes onely favourite. Veni: with Engliſh wares I did arrive in Spaine. Vidi; I had a rich return. Vici: I came home with a merry wind. Tityre tu patule quae nunc non eſt narrandi locus.
Learned Mr. Topſaile, the Gods o'the ſeas befriend you marvellouſly.
I'm much bound indeed to the old blue-beard, Neptunus; to his Sons the Trytons, his Daughters the Mermaids, and his couzens the Whales. But no more of this: many words will not fill a mans belly: ſhould we talk this two hours, there would be little uſe of a pick-tooth. My much-honour'd friend, Mr. Mainmaſt, ſhall I be ſo happifi'd this night, as to injoy your company at the carving out of a Shoulder of Mutton, cutting up of a paire of Coneys, and carbonadoing of a cold Capon?
Sir, you ſhall command the exerciſe30 of my teeth, and the ſilence of my tongue. I'll wait on you, Sir.
O Sir, you teach me what to ſay: I am your humble ereature, and very happy in the ſociety of ſo worthy a friend. Nay, Sir, let me alone for complements, if I ſet upon't. Come, good Mr. Mainmast.
YOu are a Lady in whom conſiſts all that heaven hath rais'd to perfection. I am too poor to enjoy ſo great a Treaſure; and ſhall be ever, till I grow immortal; which alone reſts in your power to make me. 'Tis not your birth or fortune that I court, heavens witneſs with me: for had you been an humble ſhepherdeſs, and I a Monarch, this love had been, 'cauſe 'twas decreed by Fate. When I firſt ſaw you, methought my ſoul was forc'd to obey a Trance; and as a Viſion, my amazed ſight heheld you. The revolution of thoſe Star-like eies deſerves a new Aſtronomy, to contemplate it. I know I catch at a Star, and attempt to fathome Clouds; but it is not that thing call'd danger, that can affright me: Were you inclos'd with rocks of marble, whoſe lofty tops knew no diſtance betwixt the Skies and them, I would, with winged ſpeed, ſeale thoſe aſpiring Walls; and, in deſpite of all that durſt detaine you, bear you in my arms, beyond the reach of danger. You have been pleaſed, bright Anaxerete, to ſmile upon your poor Iphis; the radiant luſtre of your eyes hath exhal'd thoſe dull and foggy vapours, that clogg'd my ſoul with the contemplation of my great unworthineſs: O continue thoſe ſoul-reviving beams, ſince without their comfortable influence, I muſt freeze to Cryſtal, and periſh more miſerably then the wrath of Gods or33 Men (united) can poſſibly ſhowre upon the caytiffhead of any deſolate mortal.
YOu have given me command not to love; which I confeſs I have ill obeyed: but you know, Miſtreſs, that forbidden things are ever moſt coveted by mortals; which is the reaſon that I have not had the power, ſince your forbidding me•to think of any other thought, but of loving you, Miſtreſs, there is no kind of duty that I owe you not; there is no cruelty of chance or Fate, to which I ſhall not willingly expoſe my ſelf, to obey you〈◊〉but either ceaſe you to forbid me love, or otherwiſe forbid your Image to purſue me; ſince that follows me everywhere, and leaves me not I berty or thought, but what it doth inſpire. You ma•as well forbid the water for to deſcend, and fire to mount on high, as command me to forbear to love you; which I muſt do, though in doing ſo, the fire of love parch me to cinders.
CAn law or torture fright his ſoul, who is every houre extended on the wrack? No: ſince you deſpiſe me, 'twill add unto my future happineſs, when love ſhall know I'm one that di'd your martyr. And for my body, when intomb'd in earth, a Cypreſs-tree ſhall ſpring up from my grave, under whoſe ſhade ſuch mournful lovers as are puniſht with diſdaine, ſhall come and pay ſad tribute of their teares; which by that charitable ayr which doth convert the falling dew into a froſt, ſhall be congeal'd, and raiſe to my ſad memory a laſting monument of tranſparent chryſtal.
SO leave the winter'd people of the North, the minutes of their ſummer, when the Sun departing leaves them in cold walls of Ice, as I leave thee (my onely happineſs on earth) commanded from thy preſence by an irreſiſtible Fate. But though we are ſever'd for a time, a ſpan o•35time, 'twill increaſe our joyes, when next wee meet; when we ſhall joyne againe in a confirmed unity for ever: ſuch will our next imbraces be (my deareſt) when the remembrance of former dangers (our parents angry frowns upon our loves) will faſten love in perpetuity, will force our ſleeps to ſteal upon our ſtories. Theſe daies muſt come, and ſhall, without a cloud or night of fear, or envy: till when, keep warm my ſoul within thy boſome.
I Attended in much fear, and with more patience, the ſpace of three hours, this morning, in my chamber, expecting every minute ſome ominous embaſſy from you, to ſcourge me into a juſt penance, for neglect (as you may ſuppoſe) offered unto you yeſterday, in not waiting on you according to my promiſe: but anxieties (to my great content) proving abortive, I have aſſumed the confidence to apologize thus for my contempt. My hearts joy, I know you think that your ſelf is the Loadſtone that attracts my ſoul (though I confeſs I have hitherto found your heart like a peble, (mooth, but ſtony) and that when I am reſtrained from your ſight, like a melancholy vegetive, in the abſence of the Sun, I hang down my drooping head. Think not that I deſire to withdraw from ſo worthy a ſervi•…36as I eſteem yours; under whom I chuſe rather to ſuffer extream tyranny, then elſewhere to live beneath the perfecteſt Empire. But ſo it hapned, that at the very hour when I was preparing to come and wait on you, a Meſſenger bathed in ſweat, came to certifie me, that my Unkle (of whom I have received a large Legacy) lay even at the point of death, earneſtly wiſhing to behold me ere his departure to the inviſible land: the performance of whoſe deſire, was the onely occaſion that impedited my attendence on you. I humbly intreat you (Miſtreſs) to accept of this true narration, as a ſufficient excuſe: which ſhall continue you in my opinion,
SInce I muſt write to one that hath ſcorned to anſwer my Epiſtles any time this month, take it not in favour of you; it is not to you, but to this paper that I tell my thoughts; ſo to disburden my ſelf of them, as that I may never more have them in minde, except to deteſt their cauſer. You have not deceived me: for I long ſince foreſaw the inſtability of your minde. If yet you did tell me the cauſe of this your infidelity, if not able to finde a juſt occaſion, you took the pa•ne but to ſearch a pretence that were coloured with ſalfe appearance, I would herein excuſe you againſt my37 ſelf. This then is my comfort, that you have no other reaſon for your change, then your owne inconſtancy: and though I have not ties enough to ſtay you, yet have I reſolution enough to let you go; and have as much patience in your loſs, as I•ad contentment in your poſſeſſion. Adien for ever. And becauſe you ſhall be certainly aſſured, that I now as perfectly hate you, as heretofore I dotingly affected you (to perpetuate your memory) I will fix this Epitaph upon your Tombe.
THere is no longer means of living abſent from my life: ſince you are not with me, I am no more my ſelf. I may be forbidden the ſeeing of you, but never the loving of you: or if they will for bid, yet they can never hinder me. Such as owe me moſt good will, do teſtifie the leaſt unto me, and that by reaſon of my affection: but I chuſe rather to be little obedient to them, to be the more faithful to you. Live you then in this aſſurance, if you will not that I die; and become aſſured likewiſe, that my life ſhall ſooner be extinct, then that fair flame that dayly does conſume it.
IF there be no greater Cor'ſive unto the mind of one, then that which forceth us (deſpight of our ſelves) to ſeek to thoſe whom we have before (and39 that without juſt cauſe) notoriouſly offended, then certainly am I the moſt wretched creature living: for (as now) there is no means left for me to eſcape from ruine, but onely by thy help (ſweet friend) alone, who haſt more reaſon to wiſh my overthrow, then my good fortune or health any way at all, in that thou haſt found ſuch extream and barbarous diſcourtefie in me. Nevertheleſs, if thygenerous and gentle mind, cannot feel this injury (done unto thee by a ſilly Maid) then I beſeech thee, think no more upon my offence; but burying it deep, under thy feet, do that for my ſake, which the bearer hereof ſhall make thee privy to: and then ſhalt thou quickly perceive, what great ſatisfaction I will make thee, for my fault committed; granting unto thee that which thou ſhalt moſt deſire. Give credit unto this Meſſenger; aſſuring thy ſelf that I am
IF it be an irrevocable doom, that men, be they never ſo valiant or couragious, ſhall be ſubject unto a braver and more livelier force then their owne; I hope you will not marvel overmuch, that I humbly yeild to your divine graces; and, as a captive your to beauty, proſtrate my ſelf a priſoner at your feet. But as40 mortal men deſerve no countenance from the heavens, until they have by many proofs teſtified their faithful and dutious ſervice towards them; ſo, I will not preſume to importune you to affect me at all, much leſs to yeild me any guerdon for my paines, until that by my dutious ſervice I ſhow my ſelf (in ſome part) worthy your gratious ſmiles. Mine onely requeſt to you is, that it would pleaſe you to have me in your lively remembrance; and not to entertaine another, as your loyal Servant, before you ſhall have juſt occaſion to diſcard and give me over: for as (no doubt) it will be little pleaſing unto you (hereafter) to repent you, that you have made a worſe choice then of my ſelf; ſo it will be far more bitter unto me, then a moſt deſperate death, to be diſcharged from ſerving her, whom I love more then my owne heart, and cheriſh more then my owne life, yea then my owne ſoul, which is (now) wholly yours, ſeeing that he that is the owner of the ſame, is the inviolable ſlave to your incomparable ſelf.