Pleasant dialogues and dramma's :: :: University of Virginia Library

Pam.
Haile to thee, ô thou Cruel, who canst vant
Of nothing else saue iron and Adamant.

Mar.
Haile to thee too (at length) ô Pamphilus,
How, and as oft as thou shalt please: but thus
Wherfore You should salute me, know I not,
It seemes to me my name you haue forgot.
Maria I am call'd.

Pam.
Hadst thou thy right,
Thou Martia hadst been nam'd.

Mar.
I cannot fight,
For know I what Mars meanes: Pray wherefore then
Ranke you me with that murtherer of men?

Pam.
Because I hold thee more obdurat far,
And thirsting bloud, than is the god of War.
He kills for sport, (but such as he doth hate)
But thou thy Louers, (Cruell and ingrate.)

Mar.
Good words I pray; to make me better skil'd.
Shew me the strage of those whom I haue kil'd?
Or where's the bloud?

Pam.
One Corse liuelesse and cold
Thou look'st vpon when thou dost me behold.

Mar.
What do I heare? Did any euer know
A dead man (like thee) both to speake and go?
Should no more terrible Ghosts to me appeare,
Trust me I neuer should be strooke with feare.

Pa.
Thou jest'st with me, and mean time strik'st me dead,
And by degrees I'm hourely massacred,
Worse than if thou with steele shouldst pierce my brest;
For now with lingring death I am opprest.

Mar.
How many childing women with wet eies
Were present to lament your obsequies?

Pam.
And yet my palenesse argues (to my cost)
I am more bloudlesse than a walking Ghost.

Mar.
And yet that palenesse hath a violets hew:
You so looke pale, as we in Summer view
The ripening Cherry, and your cheeke is dy'de
Like th' Autumne Grape that's purpled on one side.

Pam.
In sooth you do not well to jeere and flam
Me, knowing in what wretched case I am.

Mar.
If thou beleev'st me not, there's a glasse by,
Reach it, and that will speake as much as I.
No glasse I wish, no Mirror can allow,
Saue that in which I do behold me now.

Mar.
What Mirror's that you speake of?

Pam.
Your cleare eies.

Mar.
You'ar the same Sophister, and still so wise
As you were euer: but I pray make't plaine,
How you are liuelesse? and by me how slaine?
Or is't the use of Shadowes to take meat?

Pam.
They do (like me) but taste not what they eat.

Mar.
What is their food?

Pam.
Leekes, Mallowes, Pulse.

Mar.
Indeed?
But sometimes you on Cocke and Partridge feed.

Pam.
But to my pallat are as much default
As should I feed on sallads without salt.

Mar.
O miserable man! yet by this light

To me Y'appeare fat, fresh, and in good plight:
But can the Dead discourse?

Pam.
Yes, they may speake,
But with a voice (like me) low, faint, and weake.

Mar.
And yet (but lately) when reuenge you vow'd
Vpon your Riuall, you spake shrill and lowd.
But tell me further, as the Shadowes talke,
Are they (like you) apparel'd? Can they walke?
Or do they sleepe?

Pam.
They do, such is their fate:
Nay more than that, sometimes subagitate
After their kinde.

Mar.
You trifle finely now:

Pam.
But will you in your judgement yeeld and bow,
If it by Achillean proofes be try'de,
That I am dead, and you the homicide?

Mar.
Far be that Omen from vs: But proceed
With that your Sophisme.

Pam.
First then 'tis agreed,
Death's nothing but the absence of the Soule
From the fraile body: (none can this controule)
And that you'l grant.

Mar.
Well.

Pam.
That which you agree,
You'l not recall hereafter.

Mar.
'T shall not bee.

Pam.
You'l not deny, That such as take a life
From any other, kill?

Mar.
'Tis without strife.

Pam.
You'l likewise yeeld to that approv'd long since
By Authors, such as no man can convince,
Namely, That from the body the soule moues,
And is not where it liues, but where it loues.

Mar.
Therein th'advantage you of me haue got;
Pray make't more plaine, I vnderstand it not.

Pam.
In that I'm most vnhappy, since I see

You are not alike sensible with mee.

Mar.
Then make me so.

Pam.
You might with like pretence
Bid me to teach the Adamant to haue sence.

Mar.
I am a Maid, not stone.

Pam.
And yet most sure,
Than th' hardest Adamant y' are more obdure.

Mar.
Well, recollect your selfe.

Pam.
(Though to be'admir'd)
All that with divine Raptures are inspir'd.
'Tis said, nor heare, nor smell, nor see, nor feele,
Although you wound them with transpiercing steele.

Mar.
So I haue heard.

Pam.
Know you the cause?

Mar.
Not I:
Explaine it you who reade Philosophy.

Pam.
Because the Soule's in heav'n, when't doth affect,
And absent from the flesh in that respect.

Mar.
What then?

Pam.
What then? thou Cruel? why this makes it plain,
Thou art the Murdresse: I the man new slain.

Mar.
Where's then thy soule?

Pam.
Why where it loues?

Mar.
But who
Hath tooke it from thee? Wherefore sigh'sts thou so?
Speake freely, and vncheckt?

Pam.
One cruell, yet
She whom in death I neuer shall forget.

Mar.
Y' are witty: But (my rare Philosopher)
Why likewise take you not a soule from her,
Repaying like with like?

Pam.
Nor thinke it strange;
Nothing could proue more happy than such change,
And make me more essentially blest,
Then myne in hers, if hers in myne would rest.

Mar.
Shall I haue leaue (as thou but late with me)

That I may play the Sophister with thee?

Pam.
The Sophistresse.

Mar.
Can it with probabilitie be sed,
That the same body is alive and dead?

Pam.
But not at the same time.

Mar.
The soule confine,
The bodie's dead, nor canst thou call it thine.

Pam.
I grant.

Mar.
Nor quickens but when 'tis in place.

Pam.
Well, be it so.

Mar.
Speake then, how stands the case?
That being where it liues, in former state,
It keepes the body, whence it shifted late;
Or where it elsewhere liues, if it giue breath,
How can it (whilst it liues) be taxt of death?

Pam.
In Sophistrie I see well skil'd you are,
Yet can I easily euade this snare.
The Soule which doth the liuing body sway,
Vnproperly (me thinks) title you may
A soule, when those that do the men controule,
Are truly some small reliques of the soule,
And nothing else. As when you take a Rose,
And smell to it, howeuer you dispose
Of the floure after: being gon againe,
The sent thereof will on your hand remaine.

Mar.
I see they onely shall lost labor win,
Who seeke to catch an old Fox in a gin:
But there is one thing more that I demand,
And I from you would gladly vnderstand;
Doth not he act, that's staind with murthers gilt?
And suffer not all such whose blouds are spilt?

Pam.
Most true.

Mar.
How comes it then, when as the Wooer
In this case may be said to be the doer,
And she that's woo'd, the Patient (which is plaine,
And stiffely to oppose it were but vaine)
She that's belov'd, no such intent pursuing,

Should not be that? he cause of his owne ruin.

Pam.
Quite contrarie: he (we see daily prov'd)
Suffer, who loues: she acts that is belov'd.

Mar.
The Areopagitæ (Grammar-skil'd)
In this cannot evince me.

Pam.
Y'are selfe-will'd:
Yet shal th' Amphictriones by Logicke doo't.

Mar.
There's one doubt, prethee answer me untoo't;
Whether is this your loue free, or constrain'd?

Pam.
Most willingly I loue, though thus disdain'd.

Mar.
Since not to loue, men likewise haue free-will,
Who euer loues, doth aime himselfe to kill:
And the inditement well against him laid,
'Twere great injustice to accuse the Maid.

Pam.
She is not said the Louer to haue slaine,
Because belov'd, but not to loue againe.
For all such persons may be said to stay,
Who can preserue, and will not when they may.

Mar.
Say a yong man vnlawfully should dote
Vpon a Vestall, from the world remote;
Or cast his eye vpon anothers wife:
Must these lie prostrat, to preserve his life?

Pam.
But where this yong man his affection vowes,
The act both Law and Pietie allowes,
And yet is slaine. But if that murther hee
A sinne that doth appeare so sleight to thee.
I can of Witchcraft challenge thee.

Mar.
O fie!
Witchcraft? Forbid it you blest Pow'rs on hye:
Wouldst thou make me a Circes?

Pam.
I divine,
Thou art worse far, because a Beare or Swine
I' de rather bee, than as thou seest me now,
Sencelesse and without life.

Mar.
Pray tell me how,
Or by what kinde of Witchcraft do I kill?

Pam.
By fascination.

Mar.
Is it then thy will
I turne my noxious eies from thee?

Pam.
Not so,
But rather let them still dwell here.

Mar.
Fie no,
If in myne eies there be effascination,
How comes it there is no such alteration
In others I behold? Now I diuine,
The witchcraft's not in mine eies, but in thine.

Pam.
Is't not enough, thy vow'd friend to transperse,
But thou wilt still insult upon his herse?

Mar.
O pleasant dead man, that can talke so free:
But I pray speake, When shall thy funerall bee?

Pam.
Sooner than thou do'st deeme, (I am afraid)
Vnlesse thou suddenly afford'st me aid.

Mar.
Can I worke such a wonder?

Pam.
Thou mayst doo
A greater act, and with small labour too,
Restore the Dead to life.

Mar.
Had I the weed
Call'd Panaces.

Pam.
Of Simples there's no need:
Onely repay my loue, that's void of lust,
(Than which, what thing more easie, or more iust)
There's nothing else can thee of murther cleere.

Mar.
But at what bar shall I be call'd to appeare?
Before the Areopagitæ?

Pam.
No,
But at the bar of Venus.

Mar.
Those that know
That goddesse, say shee's placable.

Pam.
So ye'haue heard;
But there is none to be more dread and feard.

Mar.
Carrieth she lightning?

Pam.
Not.

Mar.
Or doth she beare
A Trident?

Pam.
Neither.

Mar.
Doth she vse a speare?

Pam.
Not any: but shee's goddesse of the seas.

Mar.
I do not vse to saile.

Pam.
But more than these;
She hath a Boy.

Mar.
His age can none affright.

Pam.
But hee's peruerse, reuengefull, and of might.

Mar.
What can he do to me?

Pam.
What can he? All
The gods forbid, that you should prostrat fall
Beneath his fury: loth would I presage
Ill vnto her, to whom my selfe I'engage.

Mar.
I am not superstitious, speake thy minde.

Pam.
I shall: If thou hereafter prov'st vnkinde,
Or shalt appeare so peevish or so fond
To one whose loue with thine may correspond:
Should such a sute to Venus be commenc'd
By her the Boy would be so much insenc'd,
To aime a shaft in Stiptick poison dipt,
By which thy hard brest on the sudden ript,
It shall besot thee on some sordid Swaine,
Which shall thy loue repay with cold disdaine.

Mar.
An horrid punishment thou talkst of, I
A thousand times had rather wish to die,
Than perditly to'affect one base and vile,
And he his heart towards me not reconcile.

Pam.
Yet of a Virgin subiect to like fate
There hath been knowne a sad example late.

Mar.
What place?

Pam.
Aurelia.

Mar.
Since how many yeares?

Pam.
How many moneths you would say, Still appeares
The lamentable ruine, and the fame

Is loud and frequent.

Mar.
Speake, what was her name?
Why dost thou pause?

Pam.
I know her even as well
As I do thee.

Mar.
Then why dost thou not tell
What her name is?

Pam.
'Tis for the Omens sake.
Which doth not please me: I wish she could take
Some other name vpon her. You may gather
What hers is, by your owne.

Mar.
Who was her father?

Pam.
A man of qualitie, and one that liues
Amongst the Lawyers, vnto whom he giues
No common luster.

Mar.
I am now ambitious
To know what his name is.

Pam.
Hee's cal'd Mauritius:

Mar.
But his syrname?

Pam.
Aglaius.

Mar.
Liues her mother?

Pam.
No, but of late chang'd this life for another.

Mar.
But of what sicknesse dy'de she?

Pam.
Wouldst thou know?
Of sorrow, that her childe was shipwrackt so.
Her father too, of valour prov'd and try'de,
Did little want but of conceit had dy'de.

Mar.
How was her mother styl'd, pray tell me true?

Pam.
I will: Sophronia: one that none but knew.
But what meane all these questions? do you thinke
I speake a thing that's forg'd?

Mar.
It cannot sinke
Into my head: you rather may suspect
Our sex for that, since fables we affect.
But say, what hapned to her then?

Pam.
The Maid

Was borne in honest place, as I then said,
Of happy dower, and amiable feature:
Why should I hold you long? She was a creature
Fit for a Princes bed; and sought by one
Then euery way her equall: there was none
More meriting.

Mar.
How call'd?

Pam.
The Omen doth offend: yet thus
Receiue his name, he was calld Pamphilus:
Who though he prov'd all possible waies to win her,
Yet save disdaine, when he found nothing in her,
Griefe wasted him away: when she soone after
Doated vpon a Groome compos'd for laughter;
Whom you might rather call an Ape than Man.

Mar.
What is't you say?

Pam.
So poorely, that I can
Scarce giue thereof expression.

Mar.
She so faire,
To dote on one deformed?

Pam.
Thin his haire,
Besides, disorderd and vnkembd, his crowne
Picked, made steeple-wise, and ouergrowne
With scurfe and dandruffe; bald he was beside,
Extremely squint-eyd, and his nosthrils wide
And bending vpward, with a mouth most spacious,
His teeth both gagg'd and furr'd, his tongue vngratious,
Stammering at every word; a scabbed chin,
And easily seene, because his beard was thin;
Crookt-backt, gow-bellied, bending at the knee
His legs.

Mar.
Thersites thou describ'st to me.

Pam.
Nay more; They say he hath but one eare left.

Mar.
Perhaps the tother was in war bereft.

Pam.
Most sure 'twas lost in peace.

Mar.
Such an affront
What's he durst giue him?

Pam.
Now I thinke vpon't,
It was the hangman.

Mar.
Notwithstanding this,
Perhaps what in his feature is amisse,
His substance may make good.

Pam.
But hee's no better
Than a meere Bankrupt, one that is a debter
Of his owne soule, and he hath pawnd it oft.
And yet she that's so tender, smooth, and soft,
Doth with this Monster bosome, drinke, and eat;
Nay, at his churlish hands is oft times beat.

Mar.
A wretched tale, if truly understood.

Pam.
And yet so

Venus.

Nemesis hath thought it good.
Most true it is, nor could the goddesse long
Defer due vengeance for the yong mans wrong.

Mar.
Than such a monster of a man to brooke,
I rather wish here to be thunder-strooke.

Pam.
Then let not Nemesis be iustly mov'd,
Provoke her not, love where thou art belo'vd.

Mar.
Would that suffice, with all my soule I'de doo't.

Pam.
Speake not the word, vnlesse thou stand vntoo't.
I wish moreouer, That your love may be
Lasting, and only proper vnto me.
A wife, no mistresse, I haue now in chase.

Mar.
I do not doubt it: yet in such a case,
When as our vowes continue with our fate,
Behooues vs long time to deliberate.

Pam.
I haue long enough consider'd.

Mar.
Lest you erre,
Take heed, for Love's but a bad Counseller,
And as they say, hee's blinde.

Pam.
Blinde love I scorne;
But that love sees, which is of judgement borne.
Thou dost not therefore seeme to me so faire,
Because I loue thee; but I therefore dare
To love thee, since thou art as thou appear'st.

Mar.
And yet beware how you esteeme me dearest:
When you pull on your shoo you best may tel
In what part it doth chiefely pinch you.

Pam.
Well,
Dice must be cast for that, I and the rather,
Because by many Auguries I gather.
Things better may succeed.

Mar.
An Augur too?

Pam.
I am.

Mar.
But what can your sooth-saying doo?
Saw you the night-Crow flie?

Pam.
'T had been in vaine;
Shee onely flies to such as haue no braine.

Mar.
Or did you see two Turtles take their flight
Either vpon the left hand or the right?

Pam.
Tush these are toyes: yet one thing I haue seene,
And long time markt; The goodnesse that hath beene
Deriv'd vnto you, nor doth it foretell
Any bad Omen, to be borne so well;
Nor forreigne vnto me were their conditions,
Or with how many wholsome admonitions
Thy education from the first hath bin,
With faire examples free from sight of sin.
“And better 'tis (the Dowrie to adorne)
“To haue one well instructed, than well borne.
There is another Augurie beside:
My Ancestors (I speake it not in pride)
Are not of meanest ranke, and in times past
With thine made league, which to this day doth last.
And that, not vulgar, from our cradles wee
Haue knowne each other; but to disagree
Were neuer knowne: there is a parity
In our two yeares; in the nobility,
Riches, and honour of our parents. More,
(Which in this match I should haue plac'd before)
Your sweet indowments and behauiour rare

Did in all points with my condition square:
But whether myne with yours haue suted well
In correspondence, that I cannot tell.
These are the Birds which I observ'd to flie,
Predicting only by their Augurie.
And these presage a marriage to ensue,
Happy and blest, nay alwaies seeming new.
Vnlesse from your most delicate warbling throat
Should now proceed some harsh vnpleasing noat
To crosse my hopes.

Mar.
Say, What song do you wish?

Pam.
I will begin, now answer you to this,
'Tis but two words, and they soone learnd; I am thine:
Now echo vnto me, and sing, Thou myne.

Mar.
'Tis a short song, and hath as short a theme,
And yet it beares a long Epiphoneme.

Pam.
What matters it how long, so it be sweet.

Mar.
And yet I should be loth, as we now meet,
That I to any motion should consent,
Of which perhaps in time you may repent.

Pam.
O cease to boad vs ill.

Mar.
I may grow strange,
When age or sicknesse shall my beauty change.

Pam.
Craz'd or in health, thou shalt to me be one,
Equall in both, so deare vnto me none.
I gaze not on this building, rare and neat;
The guest within I loue.

Mar.
What guest I'entreat?

Pa.
Thy mind, whose splendor with thy yeres doth grow.

Mar.
He'had need of more than Lynceus eyes, that so
Can through so many roofes at once espy.

Pam.
Thy minde by myne I see perspicuously.
To adde to these, we in our children may,
As we wax old, grow yonger euery day.

Mar.
I, but Virginitie meane time is lost.

Pam.
Tell me, if you your selfe had layd great cost

Vpon an Orchard, you would thinke it sin,
Should nothing else but bare floures grow therein:
Had you not rather (all the floures bee'ng cropt)
To see the trees full branches vnderpropt,
Laden with ripe fruit?

Mar.
O, you argue fine.

Pam.
Or answer me: To see a drooping Vine
Falne, and there putrifying where 'tis laid?
Or see one by her owne kinde claspings staid;
And round about some faire growne Elme to run,
Whilst her full clusters ripen 'gainst the Sun?
Which is the goodlier sight?

Mar.
Now answer me:
Which of the two sights had you rather see:
A milke white Rose still shining in its thorne:
Or cropt, and in some durty bosome worne,
To lose her faire leaves?

Pam.
As I vnderstand,
That Rose is happier, gatherd by the hand,
And withers, after it doth both delight
The nose with the sweet smell, the eye with sight.
Rather than that which giues no more content,
Than to the Brier forfeit both leaues and sent.
It grew for use, first to be gathered, then
To wither after. So the wine that men
At merry meetings jovially downe poure,
Is happier far, than what (vndrunke) growes soure.
Nor is the Virgin floure maturely growne,
Blasted as soone as cropt. Some I haue knowne,
Before their marriage languish and looke sickly,
Who after congresse haue recover'd quickly,
As if they had but then begun to spring.

Mar.
And yet Virginitie (you know's a thing)
Gracious and plausible to all.

Pam.
'Tis true,
Than a yong Virgin, nothing to the view

More gratefull: but what object can there bee
Worse, than an old and wrinkled maid to see?
Vnlesse thy mother had let fall her floure,
Thy blossome had not flourisht at this houre.
And if our future marriage (as I hope)
Do not proue barren, we shall then haue scope,
Though that Virginitie be lost and gone,
To yeeld the world a many for that one.

Mar.
And yet pure chastitie 's a thing (they say)
To God most gratefull.

Pam.
And I therefore pray,
Hee'l send me a chast Virgin to my wife,
With whom to leade a chast vnquestion'd life:
And by that means shall grow the greater Tye,
Of mindes, then bodies; so shall you and I
Get to the publique weale, to Christ beget.
Then how far distant is this wedlocke set
From true Virginitie: it may so fall,
That we in time may proue as conjugall
As Ioseph liv'd with Mary. Meane time wee
Shall practise 'twixt our selues a chastitie,
To whose sublimitie none can come neare,
Vpon the sudden.

Mar.
What is this I heare?
Must chastitie be violated, and
Then after learnd?

Pam.
What else? (Pray vnderstand)
As when by drinking of a lesser draught,
We, by degrees, abstemiousnesse are taught:
In this affaire with vs so stands the state.
Which of the two hold you more temperate;
He at a full and furnisht table plac't,
And of no tempting delicate will tast;
Than he, remov'd from all that might accite,
Or any way prouoke his appetite?

Mar.
I hold him of a temp'rance far more great,

Who, when beset with dainties, will not eat.

Pam.
In case of Chastitie which stand you for?
Him that hath made himselfe an Eunuch; or
One that is able bodied, strong, and sound,
And yet in whom there's no intemperance found?

Mar.
Vpon the last I dare bestow the Bayes;
On the first, madnesse, and no other praise.

Pam.
All such as by the strictnesse of their Vow,
No matrimoniall Contract will allow,
What do they else but gueld themselues?

Mar.
You say't.

Pam.
It is not vertue, not to copulate.

Mar.
How is it not?

Pam.
Obserue me: If it were
A vertue in it selfe, not to cohere;
It must be then a vice to hauecongresse.
But that to be most lawfull we may guesse,
By mutuall consocietie. Againe,
Marriage is honorable.

Mar.
Make it more plaine,
Why you infer this?

Pam.
Since so oft it falls:
As, to the louing wife the husband calls
For due benevolence; it only beeing
For issues sake.

Mar.
But say there's disagreeing,
When it proceeds from wantonnesse and lust;
Then, to deny him, is't not right and iust?

Pam.
Rather admonish and intreat him faire;
That you may do: howeuer, bound you are
To yeeld to him, beeing instant. In that straine
Scarce heare I husbands of their wives complaine.

Mar.
But libertie is sweet.

Pam.
Yet further heare;
Virginitie 's a weighty load to beare.
But I thy King, and thou my Queen shalt bee;

Wee'l rule and reigne in our owne family:
Can that appeare to thee a servitude?

Mar.
But I haue oft heard marriage, by the rude
And Vulgar, calld an Halter that fast ties.

Pam.
All those that sacred mariage so despise,
Are of an halter worthy. This decide:
Is not thy Minde vnto thy Body ty'de?

Mar.
It seemes to be so.

Pam.
Even iust as you see
A Bird incage'd; whom aske to be set free,
He will deny 't: and wherefore? Can you tell?
Because her bondage doth content her well.

Mar.
Our means are but indifferent.

Pam.
Therefore more
Safe. The best way then to encrease our store,
Is your good houswifery at home, whilst I
Abroad will vse my vtmost industry.

Mar.
But many children still bring many cares.

Pam.
And many pleasures too: I haue knowne heires,
For all the troubles and vncessant feares,
The cost and charge that in their tender yeares
They haue put their parents to; being growne men,
Haue payd them backe with double vse agen.

Mar.
A miserable thing it were, I vow,
To haue had children, then to lose them.

Pam.
Now,
Are you not childelesse? But at no good rate,
Of doubtfull things thus ill you ominate.
Which wish you rather to your lot might fall,
Be borne to die, or not be borne at all?

Mar.
Why of the two, borne (as I am) to die.

Pam.
So much more wretched is that Orbitie
And deprivation, which yet never had,
Or euer shall haue issue; (to make glad)
As they more happy are, borne to the earth,
Than they, nor borne, nor euer to haue birth.

Mar.
But who are they that are not, nor shall be?
Nay heare me yet a little further: He
Who humane frailties shall refuse to beare,
(To which even all men while they sojourne here,
Are equally obnoxious; keepe the State,
Or be they low degreed) must yeeld to Fate.
But as for thee, let come what can betide;
For thou shalt beare but halfe, I will divide
The burthen with thee: nay, the greater share
I'le cast on myne owne shoulders, (in my care)
But so, that in each joyfull accident
Doubled shall be thy pleasure in th'event.
If ought disastrous; my societie may
Take (of the griefe) the greatest part away:
And for your selfe (did but the Fates so please)
I wish on me no greater joy might sease,
Nor would I further happinesse desire,
Than in thy sweet embraces to expire.

M.
That which by Natures common course doth chance,
You men disgest with easiest countenance.
But I see with some parents how it fares,
In whom their childrens manners breed more cares,
Than can their deaths.

Pam.
But please you be content,
It lies in vs that danger to prevent.

Mar.
As how?

Pam.
I'le make it plaine; because we see
Neuer bad Fruit proceed from a good Tree,
As touching the condition, Nor is 't read,
That ravenous Kytes of gentle Doves are bred.
Let vs first study goodnesse; then provide,
That from the milke we may their youth so guide,
By holy precepts and good admonitions,
That we may rectifie their bad conditions:
'Tis of great consequence, what is infus'd
Into a Vessell when it first is vs'd.

Adde to the rest, in our domesticke state,
Examples, such as they may imitate.

Mar.
'Tis hard you speake.

Pam.
No wonder, because faire;
And that's some reason why so hard you are.
But the more difficult it seemes to be,
'Twill aske from vs the greater industry.

Mar.
Me of a pliant mettall you shall finde;
See then you cast and shape me to your minde.

Pam.
Pronounce three words in th' interim.

Mar.
'Twere small paine;
But words once past, fly neuer backe againe.
I'le giue you counsell, and consider of it,
Which may no doubt redownd to both our profit.
Solicite you our parents to this match,
They once agreed, we would make quicke dispatch.

Pam.
You would haue me, the bush to beat about,
When in three words you may resolue this doubt.

Mar.
Whether I can, is yet to me vnknowne,
Because I am my parents, not myne owne:
Neither did Contracts in times past proceed,
Vnlesse by th'Elders they were first agreed.
But howsoever, I presume, 'twixt us
This match will proue the more auspitious,
Lesse casuall too, to both, and much more sweet.
If by our parents free consents we meet.
To move them in't, your office 'tis, you know,
Because in me it comely would not show:
Virginitie loves to be forc't; maids still,
What they giue freely, grant against their will.

Pam.
Before I moue them, shall I thus indent;
May I presume I haue your free consent?

Mar.
Thou hast, my Pamphilus, then be of cheare.

Pam.
Y'are now to me religiously deare.

Mar.
But your owne voice I'de wish you stil suspend,
And e're begin, consider first the end.

Do not Affection vnto Counsell call,
But summon Reason, which should governe all:
For what Affection swayes is apt to vary,
And is (indeed) no more than temporarie:
But that which Reason dictates, be thou sure,
Is permanent, and euer shall endure.

Pam.
How sweetly play you the Philosopher?
And I shall no way from your counsels err.

Mar.
It shall not much repent you. But againe,
There is one doubt that much distracts my braine.

Pam.
Now let all scruples vanish.

Mar.
Is't your will
I marry to a dead man?

Pam.
I live still,
Reviv'd by you.

Mar.
The scruple is remov'd;
And now at length, farewell my best Belov'd.

Pam.
Be that your care.

Mar.
I wish you a glad night.
Whence came that deepe suspire?

Pam.
From no affright.
A glad night did you say? Now as I live,
What you last wisht, would you had will to giue.

Mar.
It is not fit that too much haste be made,
For yet you see your harvest's in the blade.

Pam.
Shall I beare nothing from you?

Mar.
This sweet-Ball,
Take it to cheare your heart.

Pam.
A kisse withall.

Mar.
By no meanes, since to bring thee, I desire,
A chastitie vnblemisht and intire.

Pam.
Can that detract from modestie?

Mar.
Desist:
Or would you I by others should be kist?

Pam.
Reserue them then, as these you solely owe
To me and to my use.

Mar.
I'le keepe them so:
Yet I could tell you of another cause
Wherefore I dare not kisse.

Pam.
Speake't without pause.

Mar.
You say, your whole soule, or the greater part
Is fled into my body; and your heart
Empty'd of vitall heate, (or little there
Remaining still) it therefore is my feare,
Lest by a kisse, the little which is left,
I drawing, you be quite of life bereft.
But take this hand, symbole of that affection
Which mutually confirmes our free election.
So once againe farewell: be for my sake
Carefull (I intreat) in that you undertake.
Mean time I'le pray, what yet remaines vndone,
May in a faire and prosp'rous course be run.

The Annotations upon Procus and Puella.

In this Dialogue (to whose Author I am not able to give a meriting character) I presume there is nothing conteined which doth deviate either from modesty or good manners. It is onely a meere expression, of what is, or ought to be, betwixt a young man and a maide, in the initiating of their affection, the prosecution of their love, and the perfecting of their contract. Here is neither childish discourse, loose language, or any impertinency, which is not agreeable, with wholsome instance, and commendable example. For in all marriages there is to bee observ'd, Parity in birth. For as Dion saith: Disparity in Wedlock is a great enemie to love: then conformity in education, and lastly equality in state. The first begetteth acquaintance, the second confirmeth it, and for the last we read Euripides thus: women without dowry cannot claime the priviledge to speake their owne thoughts: And Menander saith: That man is most unhappy who marrieth being poore, and raiseth his fortunes by a rich maide or widdow. But howsoever marriage in it selfe is honorable: in so much that Homer informeth us, That the Ladyes of Greece, used to count their yeares from the time of their Nuptials, not the day of their Nativity, as forgetting all the time of their virginity, and intimating, they were never to bee said truely to live, till they came to that state, legally to lend life unto others, which was by lawfull wedlock. Imagine then this our Pamphilus prov'd an happy husband, and Maria a fortunate wife: He a provident Father, and shee the fruitfull mother of

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a numerous and thriving issue. They blest in their children, and their children alternatly in them: For so it (for the most part) hapneth in all such contracts. Where vertue over-ruleth vanity, and reason swayeth passion and affection. Of him I may say with Boethius, lib. 2. Metr. 8.

Hic & conjugij sacrum
Castis nectit amoribus.
With the sacred Nuptiall tye,
His chast love did well comply.

And to doe her the best right I can, I make bold to borrow thus much from the Poet Statius, lib. Silvar. 5.

Si Babylonis opes, Lydæ si pondera gazæ
Indorumqued ares, &c.
If thou the Babylonian wealth shouldst proffer,
Or rifle (for her) the rich Lydians coffer;
The potent wealth couldst thou before her lay,
From India brought; or that from Affrica?
Yet rather then transgresse her nuptiall vow,
She would choose death not caring where, nor how.
Et quo non possum corpore, mente feror.