 | The Magnetick Lady :or, Hvmors Reconcil'd |  |
Scene II.
To them after.Compasse. Ironside.
Com.
Were you a mad man to doe this at table?
And trouble all the Guests, to affright the Ladies,
And Gentlewomen?
Iro.
Pox up o' your women,
And your halfe man there, Court-Sir Amber-gris:
A perfum'd braggart: He must drinke his wine
With three parts water; and have Amber in that too.
Com.
And you must therefore breake his face with a Glasse,
And wash his nose in wine.
Iro.
Cannot he drinke
In Orthodoxe, but he must have his Gums,
And Panym Drugs?
Com.
You should have us'd the Glasse
Rather as ballance, then the sword of Justice:
But you have cut his face with it, he bleeds.
Come you shall take your Sanctuary with me,
The whole house will be up in armes 'gainst you else,
Within this halfe houre; this way to my lodging.
Rut. Lady. Polish. Keepe, carrying Placentia over the Stage.
Pleasance. Item.
Rut.
A most rude action! carry her to her bed;
And use the Fricace to her, with those oyles.
Keepe your newes Item now, and tend this busines.
Lad.
Good Gossip looke to her.
Pol.
How doe you sweet charge?
Kee.
She's in a sweat.
Pol.
I, and afaint sweat mary.
Rut.
Let her alone to Tim: he has directions,
Ile heare your newes Tim Item, when you ha' done.
Lad.
Was ever such a Guest brought to my table?
Rut.
These boistrous Souldiers ha' no better breeding.
Here Mr. Compasse comes: where's your Captaine,
Rudhudibras de Ironside?
Com.
Gone out of doores.
Lad.
Would he had nere come in them, I may wish.
He has discredited my house, and boord,
With his rude swaggering manners, and endanger'd
My Neices health (by drawing of his weapon)
God knowes how farre; for Mr. Doctor does not.
Com.
The Doctor is an Asse then, if hee say so,
And cannot with his conjuring names, Hippocrates;
Galen or Rasis, Avicen. Averroes,
33
Which a poore Farthing chang'd in Rosa solis,
Or Cynnamon water would.
Lad.
How now? how does she?
Kee.
Shee's somewhat better. Mr. Item has brought her
A little about.
Pol.
But there's Sir Moath your brother
Is falne into a fit o' the happyplexe,
It were a happy place for him, and us,
If he could steale to heaven thus: All the house
Are calling Mr. Doctor, Mr. Doctor.
The Parson he has gi'n him gone, this halfe houre;
Hee's pale in the mouth already, for the feare
O' the fierce Captaine.
Lad.
Helpe me to my Chamber,
Nurse Keepe: Would I could see the day no more,
But night hung over me, like some darke cloud;
That, buried with this losse of my good name,
I, and my house might perish, thus forgotten—
Com.
Her taking it to heart thus, more afflicts me
Then all these accidents, for they'll blow over.
| The Magnetick Lady :or, Hvmors Reconcil'd | |