University of Virginia Library

Scena Prima.

Enter Mirabell, Pinac, Bellure.
Mir.
Ne'r tel me of this happiness, 'tis nothing;
The state they bring with being sought to scurvey,
I had rather make mine own play, and I will do.
My happiness is in mine own content,
And the despising of such glorious trifles,
As I have done a thousand more. For my humour
Give me a good free fellow, that sticks to me,
A joviall fair companion; there's a Beauty:
For women, I can have too many of them;
Good women too, as the Age reckons 'em,
More than I have employment for.

Pi.
You are happy.

Mir.
My only fear is, that I must be forced
Against my nature, to conceal my self.
Health, and an able body are two jewels.

Pi.
If either of these two women were offer'd to me now,
I would think otherwise, and do accordingly:
Yes, and recant my heresies, I would Sir;
And be more tender of opinion,
And put a little off my travail'd Libertie
Out of the way, and look upon 'em seriously.
Me-thinks this grave-carried wench.

Bel.
Me-thinks the other,
The home-spoken Gentle-woman, that desires to be fruitfull,
That treats of the full mannage of the matter,
For there lies all my aim; that wench, me-thinks
If I were but well set-on; for she is a fable,
If I were but hounded right, and one to teach me;
She speaks to th' matter, and comes home to th' point:
Now do I know I have such a body to please her,
As all the kingdom cannot fit her with, I am sure on't,
If I could but talk my self into her favour.

Mir.
That's easily done.

Bel.
That's easily said, would 'twere done;
You should see then how I would lay about me;
If I were vertuous, it would never grieve me,
Or any thing that might justifie my modesty,
But when my nature is prone to do a charitie,
And my calfs-tongue will not help me.

Mir.
Will ye go to 'em?
They cannot but take it curteously.

Pi.
I'll do my part,
Though I am sure 'twil be the hardest I e'r plaid yet,
A way I never try'd too, which will stagger me,
And if it do not shame me, I am happy.

Mir.
Win 'em, and wear 'em, I give up my interest.

Pi.
What say ye, Mousieur Bellure?

Bel.
Would I could say,
Or sing, or any thing that were but handsom,
I would be with her presently.

Pi.
Yours is no venture;
A merry ready wench.

Bel.
A vengeance squibber;
She'll fleer me out of faith too.

Mir.
I'll be near thee;
Pluck up thy heart, I'll second thee at all brunts;
Be angry if she abuse thee, and beat her a little,
Some women are won that way.

Bel.
Pray be quiet,
And let me think: I am resolv'd to go on;
But how I shall get off again—

Mir.
I am perswaded
Thou wilt so please her, she will go neer to ravish thee.

Bel.
I would 'twere come to that once: Let me pray a little.

Mir.
Now for thine honor Pinac; board me this modesty,
Warm but this frozen snow-ball, 'twill be a conquest
(Although I know thou art a fortunate Wencher,
And hast done rarely in thy daies) above all thy ventures.

Bel.
You will be ever neer?

Mir.
At all necessities,
And take thee off, and set thee on again, Boy;
And cherish thee, and stroak thee.

Bel.
Help me out too?
For I know I shall stick 'ith' mire: if ye see us close once,
Be gone, and leave me to my fortune, suddainly,
For I am then determin'd to do wonders.
Farewell, and fling an old shooe: how my heart throbs?
Would I were drunk: Farewell Pinac; heaven send us
A joyfull and a merry meeting, man.

Pi.
Farewell,
And chear thy heart up; and remember Bellure
They are but women.

Bel.
I had rather they were Lyons.

Mir.
About it; Ill be with you instantly.
Exeunt.
Shall I ne'r be at rest? no peace of conscience?
Enter Oriana.
No quiet for these creatures? Am I ordain'd
To be devour'd quick by these she-Canibals?
Here's another they call handsom, I care not for her,
I ne'r look after her: When I am half tipled
It may be I should turn her, and peruse her,
Or in my want of women, I might call for her;
But to be haunted when I have no fancie,
No maw to th' matter—Now, why do you follow me?

Or.
I hope, Sir, 'tis no blemish to my vertue,
Nor need you (but of scruple) ask that question,
If you remember ye, before your Travell
The contract you ty'd to me: 'tis my love, Sir,
That makes me seek ye, to confirm your memory,
And that being fair and good, I cannot suffer:
I come to give ye thanks too.

Mir.
For what 'prethee?

Or.
For that fair peece of honesty ye shew'd, Sir,
That constant nobleness.

Mir.
How? for I am short headed.

Or.
I'll tell ye then; for refusing that free offer
Of Monsieur Nantolets; those handsom Beauties,
Those two prime Ladies, that might well have prest ye,
If not to have broken, yet to have bow'd your promise.
I know it was for my sake, for your faith sake,
You slipt 'em off: your honesty compell'd ye.
And let me tell ye, Sir, it shew'd most handsomly.

Mir.
And let me tell thee, there was no such matter:
Nothing intended that way of that nature;
I have more to do with my honesty than to fool it,
Or venture it in such leak-barks as women;
I put 'em off, because I lov'd 'em not,
Because they are too queazie for my temper,
And not for thy sake, nor the Contract sake,
Nor vows, nor oathes; I have made a thousand of 'em,
They are things indifferent, whether kept or broken;
Meer veniall slips, that grow not near the Conscience;
Nothing concerns those tender parts; they are trifles;
For, as I think, there was never man yet hop'd for
Either constancie, or secrecie, from a woman,
Unless it were an Ass ordain'd for sufferance;
Nor to contract with such can be a Tiall;
So let them know again; for 'tis a Justice.
And a main point of civill policie,
Whate're we say or swear, they being Reprobates,
Out of the state of faith, we are clear of all sides,
And 'tis a curious blindness to beleeve us.

Or.
You do not mean this sure?

Mir.
Yes sure, and certain,
And hold it positively, as a Principle,
As ye are strange things, and made of strange fires and fluxes,
So we are allow'd as strange wayes to obtain ye,
But not to hold; we are all created Errant.

Or.
You told me other tales.

Mir.
I not deny it;
I have tales of all sorts for all sorts of women,
And protestations likewise of all sizes,
As they have vanities to make us coxcombs;
If I obtain a good turn, so it is,
I am thankfull for it: if I be made an Ass,
The mends are in mine own hands, or the Surgeons,
And there's an end on't.

Or.
Do not you love me then?

Mir.
As I love others, heartily I love thee,
When I am high and lusty, I love thee cruelly
After I have made a plenteous meal, and satisfi'd
My senses with all delicates, come to me,
And thou shalt see how I love thee.

Or.
Will not you mary me?

Mir.
No, certain, no, for any thing I know yet;
I must not lose my liberty, dear Lady,
And like a wanton slave cry for more shackles.
What should I mary for? Do I want any thing?
Am I an inch the farther from my pleasure?
Why should I be at charge to keep a wife of mine own,
When other honest maryed men will ease me?
And thank me too, and be beholding to me:
Thou thinkst I am mad for a Maiden head, thou art cozen'd;
Or if I were addicted to that diet
Can you tell me where I should have one? thou art eighteen now,
And if thou hast thy Maiden-head yet extant,
Sure 'tis as big as Cods-head: and those grave dishes
I never love to deal withall: Do'st thou see this book here?
Look over all these ranks; all these are Women,
Mayds, and pretenders to Maiden-heads; these are my conquests,
All these I swore to mary, as I swore to thee,
With the same reservation, and most righteously,
Which I need not have don neither; for alas they made no scruple,
And I enjoy'd 'em at my will, and left 'em:
Some of 'em are maried since, and were as pure mayds again,
Nay o'my conscience better than they were bred for;
The rest fine sober women.

Or.
Are ye not asham'd, Sir?

Mir.
No by my troth, Sir; there's no shame belongs to it;
I hold it as commendable to be wealthy in pleasure,
As others do in rotten sheep, and pasture.

Enter de Gard.
Or.
Are all my hopes come to this? is their no faith?
No troth? nor modesty in men?

de Ga.
How now Sister,
Why weeping thus? did I not prophesie?
Come tell me why—

Or.
I am not well; 'pray ye pardon me.

Exit.
de Ga.
Now Monsieur Mirabell, what ails my Sister?
You have been playing the wag with her.

Mir.
As I take it,
She is crying for a cod-peece; is she gone?
Lord, what an Age is this? I was calling for ye,
For as I live I thought she would have ravish'd me.

de Ga.
Ye are merry Sir.

Mir.
Thou know'st this book, de Gard, this Inventory.

de Ga.
The Debt-book of your Mistrisses, I remember it.

Mir.
Why this was it that anger'd her; she was stark man
She found not her name here, and cry'd down-right,
Because I would not pitty her immediately,
And put her in my list.

de G.
Sure she had more modesty.

Mir.
Their modesty is anger to be over-done;
They'll quarrell sooner for precedence here,
And take it in more dudgen to be slighted,
Than they will in publique meetings; 'tis their natures:
And alass I have so many to dispatch yet,
And to provide my self for my affairs too,
That in good faith—

de G.
Be not too glorious foolish;
Summe not your Travails up with vanities,
It ill becomes your expectation:
Temper your speech, Sir; whether your loose story
Be true, or false (for you are so free, I fear it)
Name not my Sister in't; I must not hear it;
Upon your danger name her not: I hold her
A Gentlewoman of those happy parts and carriage,
A good mans tongue may be right proud to speak her.

Mir.
Your Sister, Sir? d'ye blench at that? d'ye cavill?
Do you hold her such a peece, she may not be play'd withall?
I have had an hundred handsomer and nobler,
Has su'd to me too for such a curtesie:
Your Sister comes i'th' rear: since ye are so angry,
And hold your Sister such a strong Recusant,
I tell ye I may do it, and it may be will too,
It may be have too; there's my free confession;
Work upon that now.

de G.
If I thought ye had, I would work,
And work such stubborn work, should make your heart ake;
But I beleeve ye, as I ever knew ye,
A glorious talker, and a Legend maker
Of idle tales, and trifles; a depraver
Of your own truth; their honours fly about ye;
And so I take my leave, but with this caution,
Your sword be surer than your tongue, you'll smart else.

Mir.
I laugh at thee, so little I respect thee;
And I'll talk louder, and despise thy Sister;
Set up a Chamber-maid that shall out-shine her,
And carry her in my Coach too, and that will kill her.
Go get thy Rents up, go.

de Ga.
Ye are a fine Gentleman.

Exit.
Mir.
Now have at my two youths, I'll see how they do,
How they behave themselves, and then I'll study
What wench shall love me next, and when I'll loose her.

Exit.