 | The Magnetick Lady :or, Hvmors Reconcil'd |  |
Scene V.
To them.Compasse, Ironside.
[Pol.]
You knew her Mr. Compasse?
Com.
Spare the torture,
I doe confesse without it.
Pol.
And her husband,
What a fine couple they were? and how they liv'd?
Com.
Yes.
Pol.
And lov'd together, like a paire of Turtles?
Com.
Yes.
Pol.
And feasted all the Neighbours?
Com.
Take her off
Some body that hath mercy.
Rut.
O he knowes her,
It seemes!
Com.
Or any measure of compassion:
Doctors, if you be Christians, undertake
One for the soule, the other for the body!
Pol.
She would dispute with the Doctors of Divinity
At her owne table! and the Spitle Preachers!
And find out the Armenians.
Rut.
The Armenians?
15
I say the Armenians.
Com.
Nay, I say so too!
Pol.
So Mr. Polish calld 'hem, the Armenians!
Com.
And Medes, and Persians did he not?
Pol.
Yes, he knew 'hem,
And so did Mistris Steele! she was his Pupill!
The Armenians, he would say, were worse then Papists!
And then the Persians, were our Puritanes,
Had the fine piercing wits!
Com.
And who, the Medes?
Pol.
The midle men, the Luke-warme Protestants?
Rut.
Out, out.
Pol.
Sir she would find them by their branching:
Their branching sleeves, brancht cassocks, and brancht doctrine,
Beside their Texts.
Rut.
Stint Karlin: Ile not heare,
Confute her Parson.
Pol.
I respect no Persons,
Chaplins, or Doctors, I will speake.
Lad.
Yes, so't be reason,
Let her.
Rut.
Death, she cannot speake reason.
Com.
Nor sense, if we be Masters of our senses!
Iro.
What mad woman ha' they got, here, to bate?
Pol.
Sir I am mad, in truth, and to the purpose;
And cannot but be mad; to heare my Ladies
Dead sister sleighted, witty Mrs. Steele!
Iro.
If shee had a wit, Death has gone neere to spoile it,
Assure your selfe.
Pol.
She was both witty, and zealous,
And lighted all the Tinder o' the truth,
(As one said) of Religion, in our Parish:
Shee was too learn'd to live long with us!
She could the Bible in the holy tongue:
And reade it without pricks: had all her Masoreth;
Knew Burton, and his Bull; and scribe Prin-Gent!
Præsto-be-gon: and all the Pharisees.
Lad.
Deare Gossip,
Be you gone, at this time, too, and vouchsafe
To see your charge, my Neice.
Pol.
I shall obey
If your wise Ladiship thinke fit: I know,
To yeild to my Superiors.
Lad.
A good woman!
But when she is impertinent, growes earnest,
A litle troublesome, and out of season:
Her love, and zeale transport her.
Com.
I am glad,
That any thing could port her hence. Wee now
Have hope of dinner, after her long grace.
I have brought your Ladiship a hungry Guest, here,
A Souldier, and my brother Captaine Ironside:
Who being by custome growne a Sanguinarie,
The solemne, and adopted sonne of slaughter:
Is more delighted i' the chase of an enemy,
An execution of three daies, and nights;
Then all the hope of numerous succession,
Or happinesse of Issue could bring to him.
Rut.
Hee is no Suitor then?
Pol.
So't should seeme.
Com.
And, if hee can get pardon at heavens hand,
For all his murthers, is in as good case
As a new christned Infant: (his imployments
Continu'd to him, without Interruption;
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To commit any other sinne, but those)
Please you to make him welcome for a meale, Madam.
Lad.
The noblenesse of his profession makes
His welcome perfect: though your course description
Would seeme to sully it.
Iro.
Never, where a beame
Of so much favour doth illustrate it,
Right knowing Lady.
Pal.
She hath cur'd all well.
Rut.
And hee hath fitted well the Complement.
| The Magnetick Lady :or, Hvmors Reconcil'd | |