The citye match A comoedye |
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Scena VII.
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 | The citye match |  |
59
Scena VII.
Enter to them two Footmen bearing the Frame of a great Picture. Curtains drawne.1 Foot.
Set'em down gently, so.
2 Foo.
They make me sweat.
Pictures quoth you? slight they have weight enough
To be the Parties.
1 Foot.
My Lady, Sir, has sent
A Present to your wife.
War.
What Ladie pray?
1 Foot.
Madam Aurelia, Sir.
War.
Oh—
2 Foot.
Sir, they are
A brace of Pictures with which my Ladie praies
She will adorne her Chamber.
Ware.
Male Pictures pray,
Or Female?
1 Foot.
Why d'you aske?
Ware-h.
Because me thinks
It should be Mars and Uenus in a Net,
Aretines postures, or a naked Nymph,
Lying asleep, and some lascivious Satyr
Taking her lineaments. These are pictures which
Delight my wife.
2 Foot.
These are Night-peeces, Sir,
Ms Holl.
Lord how I long to see'em? I have at home
The finest ravisht Lucrece!
Ms Scru.
So have I
The finest fall of Babylon! There is
A fat Monk spewing Churches, save your presence.
Ms Holl.
Pray will you open 'em.
1 Foot.
My Lady charged us
None should have sight of 'em, Sir, but your wife.
War.
Because you make so dainty, I will see'em.
2 Foot.
Tis out of our Commission.
War.
But not of mine.
Draws the Curtaine within are discovered Bright. & Newcut.
Hell and damnation!
1 Foot.
How d'you like'em, Sir?
Ms Holl.
Look they are picturd in their clothes.
Ms Sea.
They stir too.
2 Foot.
Sir, they are drawn to life; a Masters Hand
Went to 'em, I assure you.
War.
Out Varlets, Bawds
Panders, avoid my house. O Divell! are you
They come out.
My wives Night-peeces?
Br.
Sir, you are rude, uncivill,
And would be beaten.
New.
We cannot come in private
On businesse to your wife, but you must be
Inquisitive, Sir? Thank God tis in your own house,
The place protects you.
Br.
If such an Insolence
Scape unreveng'd, henceforth no Ladies shall
Enter Dor.
Have secret servants.
New.
Here she comes, we'l ask
60
War.
Why this is far beyond example rare.
Now I conceive what is Platonick Love,
Tis to have men like Pictures brought disguised,
To Cuckold us with vertue.
They whisper.
| The citye match | |