 | The Wizard |  |
Sce: 4.
Enter Penelope,O Custome what an enemy art thou to us,
Wert not for thee we might a wooing goe,
Cupid befriend me or J fear
Some serving man will snap me—
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—my glass saies
J'me faire; J, but they only now are faire
Are so in others eyes.
Cler:
Js the wind thereabouts.
Pen:
Our paint is lost, and breasts set forth in vaine,
Jn vaine the Poland shoe to mend our growth
Jn vaine close bodies to erect the wast
Or any torture we fond fools inflict
Upon our selves to please you men, unless
That you be pleas'd with't; Oft hath Cœlia
Lookt sower upon her Sutor, when indeed
Jt was her streigh shoe pincht her, and he thought
His talk had been offensiue, and departed.
Cler:
S'life J'le look to my Ladies toes a little better.
Pen:
Well we are justly punisht for disdaine
Disdaine? alas J n'ere had any to disdaine,
No, J bear Cœlia's tortures, she offends
And it is J am struck.
Cler:
Alas poor Gentlewoman! if that the common courtesie
would serve turn J would befreind her; But this wedlock
noose, this matrimoniall splip's to close for me; Ladie!
Pen:
Cupid J hope hath heard me.
Cle:
You saw not Antonio Madam this way?
Pen:
You are the first and fairest object mine eyes haue
seen since these walks pleas'd me.
Cler:
Then adeu Lady and may your thoughts enjoy
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Exit.
Pen:
J haue often markt
Jn this same Clerimont a strange neglect
Of woman, not Cœlia strikes his eye
More Then my self, or any household drudg.
Here were an object fit for Cupids power;
Strike then gread God of loue and let him know
No breast but homage unto thee doth owe.
Exit.
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