 | The Maid in the Mill |  |
Scæna secunda.
Enter Antonio and Martine.Ant.
Their swords, alas, I weigh'em not (deer Friend)
The indiscretion of the Owners blunts'em;
The fury of the House affrights not me,
It spends it self in words: (Oh me Martine)
There was a two edg'd eye, a Lady carried
A weapon that no valour can avoyd,
Nor Art (the hand of Spirit) put aside.
O Friend, it broke out on me like a bullet
Wrapt in a cloud of fire: that point (Martine)
Dazled my sence, and was too subtle for me,
Shot like a Comet in my face, and wounded
(To my eternal ruine) my hearts valour.
Mar.
Methinks she was no such peece.
Ant.
Blaspheme not Sir,
She is so far beyond weak commendation,
That impudence will blush to think ill of her.
Mar.
I see it not, and yet I have both eies open:
And I could judge, I know there is no beauty
Till our eies give it'em, and make'em hansom;
What's red and white, unles we do allow'em?
A green face else; and me-thinks such an other.
Ant.
Peace thou leud Heretick; Thou judge of beauties?
Thou hast an excellent sense for a signe-post (Friend)
Dost thou not see? Ile swear thou art soon blind else,
As blind as ignorance; when she appear'd first
Aurora breaking in the east, and through her face,
As if the Hours and Graces had strew'd Roses,
A blush of wonder flying; when she was frighted
At our uncivil swords, didst thou not mark
How far beyond the purity of snow
The soft wind drives whitenes of innocence,
Or any thing that bears Celestial palenes,
She appear'd o'th' sodain? Didst thou see her tears
When she intreated? O thou Reprobate!
Didst thou not see those orient tears flow'd from her,
The little Worlds of Love? A sett (Martine)
Of such sanctified Beads, and a holy heart to love
I could live ever a Religious Hermite.
Mar.
I do beleeve a little, and yet me-thinks
She was of the lowest stature.
Ant.
A rich Diamond
Set neat and deep; Natures chief Art (Martine)
Is to reserve her Modells curious,
Not cumbersome and great; and such a one
For fear she should exceed, upon her matter
Has she fram'd this; Oh 'tis a spark of beauty,
And where they appear so excellent in little,
They will but flame in great; Extention spoils'em:
Martine learn this, the narrower that our eies
Keep way unto our object, still the sweeter
That comes unto us: Great bodies are like Countries,
Discovering still, toyle and no pleasure finds'em.
Mar.
A rare Cosmographer for a small Island.
Now I believe she is handsom.
Ant.
Belive heartily,
Let thy belief, though long a coming, save thee.
Mar.
She was (certain) fair.
Ant.
But heark ye (Friend Martine)
Do not believe your self too far before me,
For then you may wrong me, Sir.
Mar.
Who bid ye teach me?
Do you show me meat, and stitch my lips (Antonio?)
Is that fair play?
Ant.
Now if thou shouldst abuse me,
And yet I know thee for an arrant Wencher,
A most immoderate thing; thou canst not love long.
Mar.
A little serves my turn, I fly at all games,
But I believe.
Ant.
How if we never see her more?
Shee is our enemie.
Mar.
Why are you jealous then?
As far as I conceive she hates our whole House.
Ant.
Yet (good Martine)
Mar.
Come, come, I have mercy on ye:
You shall enjoy her in your dream (Antonio)
And I'll not hinder: though now I perswade my self.
Enter Aminta with a Letter.
Ant.
Sit with perswasion down, and you deal honestly:
I will look better on her.
Mar.
Stay, who's this, Friend?
Ant.
Is't not the other Gentlewoman?
Mar.
Yes, a Letter.
3
I hope shee'l be a Second too; I am for her.
Am.
A good houre Gentlemen.
Ant.
You are welcom Lady;
'Tis like our late rude passage has powr'd on us
Some reprehension.
Am.
No, I bring no anger,
Though some deserv'd it.
Ant.
Sure we were all too blame, Lady;
But for my part (in all humility
And with no little shame) I ask your pardons,
Indeed I wear no sword to fright sweet beauties.
Am.
You have it, and this Letter; pray ye Sir view it,
And my Commission's done.
Mar.
Have ye none for me Lady?
Am.
Not at this time.
Mar.
I am sorry for't; I can read too.
Am.
I am glad: but Sir, to keep you in your exercise,
You may chance meet with one ill written.
Mar.
Thank ye,
So it be a womans, I can pick the meaning,
For likely they have but one end.
Am.
You say true Sir.
Exit.
Ant.
Martine, my wishes are come home and loaden,
Loaden with brave return: most happy, happy:
I am a blessed man: where's the Gentlewoman?
Mar.
Gone, the spirit's gone: what news?
Ant.
'Tis from the Lady;
From her we saw: from that same miracle,
I know her Name now: read but these three lines;
Read with devotion, friend, the lines are holy.
Martine
reads.
I dare not chide ye in my Letter (Sir)
'Twill be too gentle: If you please to look me
In the West-street, and find a fair Stone window,
Carved with white Cupids; there Ile entertain ye:
Night and discretion guide ye.
Call me Ismena.
Ant.
Give it me again: Come, come, fly, fly, I am all fire.
Mar.
There may be danger.
Ant.
So there is to drink
When men are thirsty, to eat hastily
When we are hungry: so there is in sleep, Friend,
Obstructions then may rise, and smother us,
We may die laughing, choked, even at devotions:
An Apoplexie, or a sodain Palsey
May strike us down.
Mar.
May be a train to catch ye.
Ant.
Then I am caught: and let Love answer for it.
'Tis not my folly, but his infamy:
And if he be adored, and dare do vild things.
Mar.
Well, I will go.
Ant.
She is a Lady, Sir,
A Maid, I think, and where that holy spell
Is flung about me, I ne're fear a villany,
'Tis almost night: away friend.
Mar.
I am ready,
I think I know the house too.
Ant.
Then we are happy.
Exeunt.
| The Maid in the Mill | |