University of Virginia Library

Scene II.

Polish. Keepe. Placentia. Pleasance. Needle.
Pol.
How now, my dainty charge, and diligent Nurse?
What were you chanting on? ( To her daughter kneeling.
God blesse you Maiden.)

Kee.
Wee were inchanting all; wishing a husband
For my young Mistris here. A man to please her.

Pol.
Shee shall have a man, good Nurse, and must have a man:
A man, and a halfe, if wee can choose him out:
We are all in Counsell within, and sit about it:
The Doctors, and the Schollers, and my Lady;
Who's wiser then all us—. Where's Mr. Needle?
Her Ladiship so lacks him to prick out
The man? How does my sweet young Mistris?
You looke not well, me thinkes! how doe you, deare charge?
You must have a husband, and you shall have a husband;
There's two put out to making for you: A third,
Your Vncle promises: But you must still
Be rul'd by your Aunt: according to the will
Of your dead father, and mother (who are in heaven.)
Your Lady-Aunt has choise i'the house for you:
Wee doe not trust your Vncle, hee would keepe you
A Batchler still, by keeping of your portion:
And keepe you not alone without a husband,
But in a sicknesse: I, and the greene sicknesse,
The Maidens malady; which is a sicknesse:
A kind of a disease, I can assure you,
And like the Fish our Mariners call remora—.

Kee.
A remora Mistris!

Pol.
How now goody Nurse?
Dame Keepe of Katernes? what? have you an oare
I' the Cockboat, 'cause you are a Saylors wife?
And come from Shadwell? I say a remora:
For it will stay a Ship, that's under Saile!
And staies are long, and tedious things to Maids!
And maidens are young ships, that would be sailing,
When they be rigg'd: wherefore is all their trim else?

Nee.
True; and for them to be staid—.

Pol.
The stay is dangerous:
You know it Mrs. Needle.

Nee.
I know somewhat:
And can assure you, from the Doctors mouth,
Shee has a Dropsie; and must change the ayre,
Before she can recover.

Pol.
Say you so, Sir?

Nee.
The Doctor saies so.

Pol.
Sayes his worship so?
I warrant 'hem he sayes true, then; they sometimes
Are Sooth-sayers, and alwayes cunning men.
Which Doctor was it?

Nee.
Eeene my Ladies Doctor:
The neat house-Doctor: But a true stone-Doctor.

Pol.
Why? heare you, Nurse? How comes this geare to passe?
This is your fault in truth: It shall be your fault,
And must be your fault: why is your Mistris sicke?
Shee had her health, the while shee was with me.

Kee.
Alas good Mistris Polish, I am no Saint,
Much lesse, my Lady, to be urg'd give health,
Or sicknesse at my will: but to awaite
The starres good pleasure, and to doe my duty.

Pol.
You must doe more then your dutie, foolish Nurse:
You must doe all you can; and more then you can,
More then is possible: when folkes are sick,
Especially, a Mistris; a young Mistris.

Kee.
Here's Mr. Doctor himselfe, cannot doe that

Pol.
Doctor Doo-all can doe it. Thence he's call'd so.