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Sce. 2.
Enter Cœlia distractedly, Sr Oliver, Antonio, Sebastia«n and» Shallow.Cœl:
J am resolvd.
Seb:
Nay good Lady.
Cœl:
Witnesse these tears as pure as the weeper is,
But satisfie; for speak what other way
Leads to more safe content & J will chuse it.
Ant:
J know not that, but this J'me sure is dangerous
Medea never run a blacker course
To purchase Jason.
Cœl.
Speak; could you good Sr
After so many years in wooing spent,
Even grown white with Loue, & only lasting
Jn expectation (of what you please to stile
Your second birth) my wedding day;
Could you behold that day, this gentlemans;
(Proviso that my choice did make it his.)
And not convert to your funerall?
You could not: or you Sebastian
Who now can not admit with patience
My hand in the small scruple of a kisse
Should grace another; could you see that hand
(And not your own streight on your Rapiers hilt
Arm'd to divorce it) giuen, for ever giuen
Unto this Gentleman; you could not see it.
Shall:
Why if he could not let him choose, we can see the
way to bed without his eyes.
Cœl:
Nay mild Antonio, whom patience nurst,
(Jf any but his father should prevent him)
Would then learn fury first, and be stark mad;
You cannot and be men reject the salve
That at such distance heals and cures the wound
Before it's made: such are those registers
And darker Volumes of the higher chancery;
Which only learned eyes can read, and hands
Guarded by Magick, turn: in them are writ
And those occurrents which we still impute
To chance and fortune, there haue another stile
And are cald providence and fate, 'gainst which
'Tis vaine to fight, unless with Gyants pride
And like successe we'le war against the Gods.
Shall:
Ile streight to his Majesties Hocus Pocus & get what
J loue best, and thats this Lady.
Sr Oliv.
Now must J wait the Devills leasure for a wife?
Shall:
And in the end haue one and his horns to boot.
Ant:
This is but just
And ought to be layd home unto your sex.
Who by much more your nature weaker is
The stronger err, and doe presume on that
Which should dishearten, your infirmitie.
Makeing it still your fault and your excuse.
And these, on whom you fix your hearts content
What are they? but malignant envious souls,
The cheif repiners at the common good
Whose leanesse is their neighbors harvest time
Which starue to see another fat and plump.
Shall:
This comes home, J do not like it.
Ant:
Who haueing at too dear a rate bought skill
Of the most subtle Marchant, boast their ware
But never count the price they paid for it.
Seb:
These are your Wizards, these they you resort unto
Jf that your foisting hound refuse his plumbs,
Or Parott almonds, or if through violence
The paint should warp, or peruche chance turn round.
'Bout these portents? who would haue thought such black
And horrid crimes (as these you are about)
Had logd in natures fairest tenement,
Worse doe not spot the foulest breasts of Moors?
Ant:
And yet we doat upon this painted dirt,
Court it, and call it Angell, when indeed
Tombs and the rotten mansions of the dead
(Jf we regard only the outward form)
Are full as faire and goodly; Farewell loue?
Loue? giue it the right attribute, 'tis madness.
Cupid get thee hence
J will not harbour thee a minute longer,
Go fill the breast of fools and lunaticks
As long as J haue braine and judgment left
There is no empty place for thee: Father
Your ear J pray.
Shall:
Sebastian let us plot, let us plot, you see they joine
forces; now if you and J could make any friends to the Divells,
we should carry this businesse, think, think man, haue you
no acquaintance that way? methinks a Scrivner would be a
necessary fellow to imploy, or a hors-courser he would ride
poast about it.
Seb:
No, no, tis dangerous trusting others, you had better
goe your self, you are so thin you will passe for a spirit.
Sr Oliv:
Ha! hast thou lou'd her all this while? you plaid
The Orator for me then brauely: J did
Alwayes expect some knavery, yes, yes,
You haue your Mittimus to goe away.
Shall.
What think you of this project? J will provide two
Conjurours, and two Divells, a Divell & a Conjurer for them,
and one Divell and a Conjurer for us, now ours shall fight
theirs.
Seb:
Marry that was well thought of, but how shall you and
J agree.
Shal:
Why she shall make a feast and J will eat with you
for her, and then the quarrell will be ended presently.
Ant:
J dare not trust my ears unto her tongue,
Father your blessing.
Sr Oliv:
My Sonne is going Lady.
Shall:
And you take them going to the Divell, J'le goe to
the Divell with him.
Cœl:
Am J the cause of your departure Sr?
Ant:
No, no, J never knew you J,
J knew a Lady much in face like you
But she was rarely qualified, & had
Beauty within, which outshone that without,
She was giuen to pride nor self conceit
Nor witchcraft, no, you are not she, Farewell
J'me sure you are not.
Exit.
Cœl:
Fetch him again or J am gone for ever.
Seb:
Help, help, the Lady swounds, your hands good Gentlemen,
she doth begin to breath againe, lets carry her in and
get some comfortable things, your Sonne was too too sharp
indeed.
Shall:
They say women are light, sure tis awake then for
they are very heavy asleep.
(exeunt. bearing Cœlia)
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