University of Virginia Library

Enter Tamira and Teresia.
Tam.
Oh, preach no more of Patience, good Teresia!
This reverent Counsel and religious Argument
I know with Reason would inspire a Heart,
That had less knowledge of the Pangs of Love:
But I (alass!) have no Religion left,
My stupid Soul now wants that Influence,
That lately with true Joy inspir'd my Bosome,
Where gloomy Sorrows only take possession.

Ter.
Well, well, still I say, you must have Patience,
Let the Snail creep, if it cannot fly; leave off
This whining and follow my Instructions, and
I tell you once more, you shall have Comfort.

Tam.
Get me my Freedom then,
Unty that knot, that fatal Marriage Band,
That Parents Cruelty impos'd upon me,
Forcing me from the Arms of dear D' Ambois,
To be an Offering to Mountsurry's Wealth:
Free me from this, and I'le be all Obedience;
I'le hear, I'le vow, I'le pray with more Devotion,
Than ever Penitent did to purchase Heaven.

Ter.
Why there 'tis now, I must get you your Freedom,
I must unty the knot, ods precious d' ye make a
Death of me already? 'tis true indeed you
Have worn me to mere skin and bones; I
Have pray'd and pray'd, till I have pray'd my
Self into a Consumption about you, and yet
I am not quite dead, and nothing but Death
Can unty Marriages that I know.

Tam.
Nor nought but Hell contrive to tye so fast.
All other Beings may find some Relief:
The wretched Slave, that tugs the painful Oar,
Lives still in hopes, he once may get his Freedom.
Th'unhappy Merchant toss'd in stormy Winds,
I'th'midst of Clouds and all tempestuous Dangers,
Shrugs himself up in hopes to find a Calm,
When safe he may behold the cheerful Sun.
Even Vegetives all feel this Influence:
The wrinkled Face of our dear Mother Earth,
That Winter furrows with its nipping Frosts,
Smiles at th'approach of the Springs youthful God,
And decks her wither'd Brow with Buds, and Flowers.
All things may have redress, but those that marry:
Even Death relieves not us, till 'tis too late.
Were I to torture one I wisht were dead,
To load her with a Curse, I'de bid her Wed.

Ter.
'Gad forgive me, why did you doe it then? I'me sure
'Twas without my Advice: I have told you many and
Many a fair time, a Womans Conscience may be
Satisfied like a good Christian, without going to a
Priest. for a Conjugal Hoop to bind her to her
Good Behaviour: besides, was it not done with your
Consent? Did you not give your Heart?

Tam.
I give my Heart!
No, all the Saints can witness not one grain,
Or atome on't; or less, if less can be:
I give my Heart! alass, I had no Heart,
No Will, no Sence; was fatally distracted,
Tortur'd, and teiz'd by Misers, call'd Relations;
Stark mad, they bid me Sign my Death, I did it;
And the unhappy Church-man that stood by
To joyn our Hands was sure as mad as I.

Ter.
If he had stript you both, and clapt Breast to Breast,
That your Hearts might have joyned, he had cone
Wiser; for my part I never liked that old
Custom of joyning Hands, there's no luck in't;
I made my Daughter Cons joyn Feet with her
Husband.

Tam.
Wou'd I had joyned my self to Death, then sure
I had been happy.

Ter.
Nay, nay, not a word more of Death, if thou
Lovest me; thou hast yet a great deal to do
With the things of this World, Child: Come, come,
I know you have been much distrest by Fortune;
I know too you loved, and were betroth'd to D' Ambois,
One that, to say truth, was a Man every Inch
Of him: nay, to do him Justice, the Gentleman
Wanted no parts to recommend him, but that he was poor.

Tam.
Poorer perhaps for me.
Too well I know his riotous Expences:
To court me in the dawning of our Love,
What Masques, what Rovels, what triumphant Shews,
Were still address'd! nor will I be ungrateful.
Here, take this purse, prythee seek him out;
I hear he shuns Converse and Company,
Hates the bright Sun, that smiles upon his Sorrows,
And wishes he and that might set for ever.
Oh! seek him out, and with thy kindest phrase
Assure him of my Friendship,

Ter.
Well, I hear you, but what says my Prayer book
To this? Sure these grateful Actions come all under
The notion of Charity! 'tis all Charity; come, set
Your heart at rest, the Gentleman shall know the
Good Will you bear him.

Tam.
It may be he'll desire to speak with me,
For all wrong'd Lovers still have much to say:
If so, then take this Secret; there's a Trap-door
To a dark Vault that opens in my Apartment,
Which to my Husband never yet was known;
To clear his Doubts for once I'le there admit him,
Without offence to Conjugal Obligements.

Ter.
Poor Heart, how fearful she is of offending!
Well, I'le go to the Church, and pray for a Blessing
Upon my Endeavours, and then I'le try what I
Can do to bring you together: It shall go hard
But your Scruple shall be satisfied; I think
I am bound in Conscience to take care of your
Scruple. Come, come, cheer up, at night expect an
Answer, I'le about it instantly.

[Exit.
Tam.
That he was Poor, there lies the fatal Plague,
That murders Peace, and breaks poor Lovers Hearts.
Oh, she is damn'd into the inmost Hell,
That breaks a solemn Vow or holy Contract,
For Int'rest, or her Lovers being poor.
That there's a Nobleness i'th'midst of Want
Appears by some Mens Actions; for as we see
Mean Habits gracefully adorning some,
Whilst others look like Asses in Embroidery:
So a brave Man shines out in spight of Poverty.
His Mind is great, though scanty be his Store,
'Tis he, that wants the Soul to give, is Poor.

[Exit.