Pha.
Do Ladies of this Country use to give no more re-
spect to men of my
full being?
Gal.
Full being! I understand you not, unless your Grace
means growing to
fatness; and then your only remedy (up
on my knowledge,
Prince) is in a morning a Cup of neat
White-wine brew'd
with Carduus, then fast till supper, a-
bout eight you may
eat; use exercise, and keep a Sparrow-
hawk, you can shoot
in a Tiller, but of all, your Grace must
flie Phlebotomie,
fresh Pork, Conger, and clarified Whay;
They are all dullers
of the vital spirits.
Pha.
Lady, you talk of nothing all this while.
Gal.
'Tis very true Sir, I talk of you.
Pha.
This is a crafty wench, I like her wit well, 'twill
be
rare to stir up a
leaden appetite, she's a Danae, and must be
courted in a showr
of gold. Madam, look here, all these,
and more, than
Gal.
What have you there, my Lord? Gold? Now, as I
live 'tis fair gold;
you would have silver for it to play with
the Pages, you could
not have taken me in a worse time;
But if you have present
use my Lord, I'le send my man with
silver and keep your
gold for you.
Pha.
Lady, Lady.
Gal.
She's coming Sir behind, will take white mony. Yet
for all this I'le
match ye. [Exit
Gal. behind the hangings
Pha.
If there be but two such more in this Kingdom, and
near the Court, we
may even hang up our Harps. ten such
Camphire
constitutions as this, would call the golden age
again in question,
and teach the old way for every ill fac't
Husband to get his
own Children, and what a mischief that
will breed, let all
consider.
Enter
Megra.
Here's another; if
she be of the same last, the Devil shall
pluck her on. Many
fair mornings, Lady.
Meg.
As many mornings bring as many dayes,
Fair, sweet, and
hopeful to your Grace.
Pha.
She gives good words yet; Sure this wench is free.
If your more serious
business do not call you,
Let me hold quarter
with you, we'll take an hour
Out quickly.
Meg. What would your Grace
talk of?
Pha.
Of some such pretty subject as your self.
I'le go no further
than your eye, or lip,
There's theme enough
for one man for an age.
Meg.
Sir, they stand right, and my lips are yet even,
Smooth, young enough,
ripe enough, red enough,
Or my glass wrongs
me.
Pha.
O they are two twin'd Cherries died in blushes,
Which those fair
suns above, with their bright beams
Reflect upon, and
ripen: sweetest beauty,
Bow down those branches,
that the longing taste,
Of the faint looker
on, may meet those blessings,
And taste and live.
Meg.
O delicate sweet Prince;
She that hath snow
enough about her heart,
To take the wanton
spring of ten such lines off,
May be a Nun without
probation.
Sir, you have in
such neat poetry, gathered a kiss,
That if I had but
five lines of that number,
Such pretty begging
blanks, I should commend
Your fore head, or
your cheeks, and kiss you too.
Pha.
Do it in prose; you cannot miss it Madam.
Meg.
I shall, I shall.
Pha. By my life you shall
not.
I'le prompt you first:
Can you do it now?
Meg.
Methinks 'tis easie, now I ha' don't before,
But yet I should
stick at it. Pha.
Stick till to morrow.
I'le ne'r part
you sweetest. But we lose time,
Can you love me?
(you?
Meg.
Love you my Lord? How would you have me love
Pha.
I'le teach you in a short sentence, cause I will
not load
your memory, this
is all: love me, and lie with me.
Meg.
Was it lie with you that you said? 'Tis impossible.
Pha.
Not to a willing mind, that will endeavour; if I
do not teach you
to do it as easily in one night, as you'l go to
bed, I'le lose
my Royal blood for't.
Meg.
Why Prince, you have a Lady of your own, that
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yet wants teaching.
Pha.
I'le sooner teach a Mare the old measures, than teach
her any thing belonging
to the function; she's afraid to lie
with her self, if
she have but any masculine imaginations a
bout her; I know
when we are married, I must ravish her.
Meg.
By my honour, that's a foul fault indeed, but time
and your good help
will wear it our Sir.
Pha.
And for any other I see, excepting your dear self,
dearest Lady, I had
rather be Sir Tim the Schoolmaster, and
leap a Dairy-maid.
Meg.
Has your Grace seen the Court-star Galatea?
Pha.
Out upon her; she's as cold of her favour as an
apoplex? she sail'd
by but now.
Meg.
And how do you hold her wit Sir?
Pha.
I hold her wit? The strength of all the Guard can
not hold it, if they
were tied to it, she would blow 'em out
of the Kingdom, they
talk of Jupiter, he's but a squib crack
er to her: Look well
about you, and you may find a tongue-
bolt. But speak sweet
Lady, shall I be freely welcome?
Meg.
Whither?
Pha.
To your bed; if you mistrust my faith, you do me
the unnoblest wrong.
Meg.
I dare not Prince, I dare not
Pha.
Make your own conditions, my purse shall seal 'em,
and what you dare
imagine you can want, I'le furnish you
withal: give two
hours to your thoughts every morning a
bout it. Come, I
know you are bashful, speak in my ear,
will you be mine?
keep this, and with it me: soon I will
visit you.
Meg.
My Lord, my Chamber's most unsafe, but when
'tis night I'le find
some means to slip into your lodging: till
when-----
Pha.
Till when, this, and my heart go with thee.
[Ex.
several ways.
Enter
Galatea from behind the hangings.
Gal.
Oh thou pernicious Petticoat Prince, are these your
vertues? Well, if
I do not lay a train to blow your sport up,
I am no woman; and
Lady Towsabel I'le sit you for't.
[Exit
Gal
Enter
Arethusa and a Lady. [2.3]
Are.
Where's the boy? La.
Within Madam.
Are.
Gave you him gold to buy him cloaths?
La.
I did. Are.
And has he don't?
La.
Yes Madam.
Are.
'Tis a pretty sad talking boy, is it not?
Askt you his name?
La.
No Madam.
Enter
Galatea.
Are.
O you are welcome, what good news?
Gal.
As good as any one can tell your Grace,
That saies she hath
done that you would have wish'd.
Are.
Hast thou discovered?
Gal.
I have strained a point of modesty for you.
Are.
I prethee how?
Gal.
In listning after bawdery; I see, let a Lady live
ne
ver so modestly,
she shall be sure to find a lawful time, to
harken after bawdery;
your Prince, brave Pharamond, was
so hot on't.
Are. With whom? (place.
Gal.
Why, with the Lady I suspect: I can tell the time
and
Are.
O when, and where?
Gal.
To night, his Lodging.
Are.
Run thy self into the presence, mingle there again
With other Ladies,
leave the rest to me:
If destiny (to
whom we dare not say,
Why thou didst
this) have not decreed it so
In lasting leaves
(whose smallest Characters
Were never altered:)
yet, this match shall break.
Where's the boy?
La.
Here Madam.
Enter
Bellario.
Are.
Sir, you are sad to change your service, is't not
so?
Bell.
Madam, I have not chang'd; I wait on you,
To do him service.
Are.
Thou disclaim'st in me;
Tell
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