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ACT. 2.

SCEN. 1.

Miserotos
laughing.

Ha, ha, ha, I have ee'n burst my self yonder with laughing,
and am now forc't to retire for fear of my ribs; The most
prodigious Contention about a Mistresse that e're I beheld: A
Ballad-singer and a vext Constable I should take e'm for; but
that I know the one to be a boysterously valiant Captain, and
t'other a Gentleman abus'd into a Poet by his Mistresse: who,
having for a long time courted her with verses only and Sonnets,
is now injoyn'd by Her to speak nothing but Rime. The Captain
being his Rival hath now provok't the Quarrel, he hath
drawn his Faulchion, and wheeling about, lies at his Guard


14

most fiercely, whiles my Riming Gentleman makes at him with a
pair of Heroick Verses, which he again puts by with a warlike
Oath or two: Such strange Passadoes there are between e'm,
such Hermaphroditical Play; short sword and long verse, as I
ne're saw the like. But here they come.


To him Pisistratus. Lamprias.
Pis.
I say I'le fight what e're comes on't.

Lam.
Why then have at you Sir; nay I'le assure ye,
There is no Poet but he hath his Furie.

Mis.

Nay good Captain be pacified; indeed it is not manly
to challenge or beat another whom you know resolv'd not to
fight agen: why you see he refuses your weapon: Alas he combates
in another way; if you will make Amorous Sonnets with
him, I know he will enter the Lists.


Pis.

No! my Sword shall be my Pen, and I will print a bloodie
Tragick Poem upon his flesh—
—By this good steel I will.


Lam.
By these good Verses thou shalt have thy fill.
Nay, though with sword I fight not, yet will I
Hang thee in strong lines; make thee living die.

Pis.

Strong lines? strong halters: I'le beat this riming spirit
out of you, and make you howl in pitiful prose. If ever I hear
you pelting verses at my Mistresse window any more, I'le beat
that inspired Pate: I will Sirrah, so that the discharg'd Chamber-pot
shall be a work of Charitie, the urine being med'cinal.


Lam.
I do defie thee and thy threats, thou fellow,
That look'st so like a foaming angrie Billow;
Crown'd with my twig of Lawrel I fear not
Thunder of rotten Eggs or Chamberpot.

Pis.

Get you a Sword Changeling, and a good one too, or
I'le crown your Cockscomb with a hollie twig as big as my arm,
Ile make your brains so fluent, they shall be ready to flie out upon
all occasions.


Lam.
My Bodie shall with Poetrie be charm'd,
Thus to be naked is to be best arm'd.


15

Pis.
Ile ee'ne try what Armour of proof you have.

offers to beat him.
Mis.

Hold, hold, shall I now tell you what you
two are?


Pis.

Yes, Mars, and Apollo.


Mis.

A ridiculous pair of Cockscombs you are to quarrel,
and violate all bonds of friendship: thus for a white face, a coy,
disdainful woman, who for ought you know when you have
done your best, will onely laugh at your follie: I would not
have you expect to be so Generously miserable as to deserve
Pitie.


Pis.

Come, come, you onely speak this out of your own
Aversenesse to all Love: she hath most affectionately ingag'd
her self by several promises to one of us two; but finding us
both, so equally deserving, cannot as yet finallie determine the
partie.


Lam.
Nay that's for certain none can husband bee
To fair Ethusa, unlesse I or Hee.

Pis.

Here's nothing to be done with my Sword, and I scorn to
kill him as he is, unarm'd. Prithee Miserotos we should be much
bound to the discoverie of thy Justice, if thou couldst chalk us out
a fair way of Decision.


Mis.

Faith I can imagine none, you are so disproportionably
qualified; unlesse putting it to the hazard of Lots. For you
standing on tearms of Chivalrie, He of Poetrie; you for the
point of your Sword, he of his pen, can never meet in fair
Duel.


Pis.
Why then Ile stand to Lots.

Lam.
And shall I too? No; for I much do fear
To venture such fair hopes as now appear.

Pis.

Nay then let her decide it; I know her judgement must
prefer me, therefore I'le stand to no other Lotterie but her liking.


Lam.

'Tis then agreed.— Exe. Lamp. Pis.


Mis.

Did ever men run thus out of their wits with love? nay
and for one that gives e'm no Encouragement at all, the most
contemptful abusive woman that ere was sued to. She appoints
e'm their daies of visits, and then sits in state like some great
Princess about to decide grave matters concerning the Common-Wealth:


16

They usually walk without ith' Hall, and converse with
the Serving-men, till summon'd by her Gentlewoman, who being
the Clark of the Court, presents their Petitions, their Amorous
Papers of Verses, and takes their several Enditements 'gainst the
next appearing.
Well, give me Libertie of soul, who's will take Beautie.

(Ex. Mis.)

SCEN. 2.

Panareta. Ethusa, at one door. Lysander, at the other.
Lys.
Save you fairest Ladies: I wish health
And your own wishes upon both.

Pan.
But sure
He does not know how much h'has giv'n away
In that one word. If I had my own wish,
He should bestow himself.

Eth.
If that be all,
We thank you Sir.

Lys.
But Ladie I have bus'nesse
Beyond a bare salute, and 'tis of Theocles,
His Service to you Ladie.

Eth.
Well! proceed;

Lys.
Hee's one, if faith can bear the stamp of Merit,
Deserves your love; he spends the day in tears,
And by his Sighes, with which he counts his houres,
He makes void Minutes. Thus he pines away,
And in a Sullen grief hath lost himself
Onely for love of you.

Pan.
How well that tongue
Hath learnt to wooe! He need not fear repulse,
If he could spend a Suite in his own Name,
Smooth'd with such language to my tender eares.

Eth.
Alas I pitie the poor Gentleman;
Bid him rise early, use good Companie,

17

And know no other moisture but of wine,
'Twill cure his Melancholie.

Lys.
If you return
But this slight Answer, know you then will draw
A new disease upon him, and your Cure
Will onely thus grow to a deeper wound,
Whil'st he shall die with Physick.

Pan.
Still he moves
Like one that knew the Conquering Art to plead
For any but himself,

Eth.
Indeed you urge
His suit so full, as if he had bequeath'd
His soul into your bosom; But I pray you
Discourse it coolely; should I give my self
To ev'ry one that this way would deserve me
I should be married to a Troop of Men,
And grow a Lawful Strumpet; For my Face
Is not of that poore Clay, as to be courted
With one Flame onely, there are more desires
Chain'd to my eyes then his.

Lys.
There may be so,
And that Face doth deserve it.

Pan.
Pray heav'n himself
Do not increase the Number.

Lys.
But in all
That heap of Suitors, there are few can boast
A Flame so vigorous, as Theocles's;
All do not testifie their rude Affections
With that best Complement of Gaudie Presents,
Nor wooe ith' costly language of rich guifts:
This is the stile of Theocles firm love
Printed in Gold.

Eth.
I grant indeed he sent.
Full choice of Presents, and the finest toyes
As I could wish: But I return'd my thanks,
And paid him still in a Civilitie:
If he expect more, I recall that too:

18

Else, call it what he will, he sends but wares,
And cheats my Cabinet with Merchandise,
Which I forsooth must think fill'd with his love,
And in Reward, bestow my self: alas
I have no price set on me, nor am sold
At the cheap rate of Jewels: Ile not passe
My self away by bargain.

Lys.
Ladie he scorns
To chaffer for affection: He desires
That you should recompence his Faith with yours,
And not his Guifts: when e're he sends a Jewel
Carv'd out into a heart, 'tis his own heart
Wounded and cut by your Disdain; each present
Carries a part of him that sent it too.
His Love is weav'd through all his Guifts: Did he
Know that base Art how to send any thing
And leave himself out, you might easily then
Slight the poor single offer. Nor is he arm'd
Onely with Guifts, he dare even challenge dangers
And provoke death, if he might thus avoid
The fate which he more fears of your Displeasure.
He dares fight for you and maintain your Beautie,
Whil'st he shall lose his own, and paint your face
Fresh with his blood.

Eth.
I, here's a way indeed,
A fine device thus to defend my beautie
That he might ruine it. That Ladies name
Whose worth must be decided by the Sword,
Suffers though in a Conquest; 'tis a stain
To honour, whil'st it wants another force
Then its own Innocence to guard it.

Lys.
Ladie,
Y'are too severe thus to despise all waies
That render Suitors lovely: if you doubt
His Constancie, invent your self a Trial;
Impose some harder task, whose cruel weight
Might shake a faith which was as firm as Rock,
Though more relenting. If guifts fraught with love

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Cannot prevail, nor th' Judgment of a Duel,
Then find out something heavier then war,
Injoyn his absence, and impose some years
Of tedious Pilgrimage, which onely thus
Shall grow a Sport and Recreation,
'Cause your Command.

Eth.
Sister y'are too heavie,
Come, be more cheerful.

Lys.
This is a Contempt
Worse then the rest, will she not give an Answer?— (aside.)

O the proud Insolence of a coy Ladie!
But if that be the way, I can follow,
And shape my self to any thing to produce
A Comfort for my friend: Panareta
Let me intreat your help.

Pan.
O do not wrong
The power you have in me to intreat any thing,
Bee't a command, and 'tis already done.

Lys.
What sweetnesse dwells in all her Answers? now
(aside.)
I could forget my friend, and almost urge
A suit might blesse my self; But I must through't:
My request is, that you would win your Sister
To glance some favours upon Theocles.
She is all stone yet, but that she will not
Be won upon by tears; No softnesse can
Supple her harder Bosome.

Eth.
A good Character.

Pan.
Ah Lysander! I did hope you would
Have urg'd a glad Suit of Another strain
When I did yeild so far: I did believe
(How Credulous Love is) 'twas me you aim'd at.

Lys.
Did I forsake one shelve to split my hopes
Upon a New? I must still try Ethusa,
Since you are cruel too.

Pan.
How should I plead?
Tell me what words will soonest win her love,
For sure you know the way to conquer hearts.


20

Eth.
How gravely they consult together! onely,
After more Policie to be deny'd still.— (aside.)


Lys.
Tell her how great his Love is: let her know
She sits within his heart next to the Gods.

Pan.
Sure that cannot win her, for even thus I love
You with a faith as great, as he does her.
You sit within my heart next to the Gods,
Pardon the Blasphemy, and are even plac't
Above e'm too, and yet I am neglected.

Eth.
I am glad I am releas'd, since I can now
Gather more Breath, strong for a new repulse.

(aside.)
Lys.
If you love me, then shew it in this grant.

SCEN. 3.

To them, Theocles.
Pan.
See he is come himself: let him now move
His own desires; for sure 'tis an Advantage
To any one, but me, to woo in Person.

The.
Friend and Lady, pardon my hasty rudenesse,
Which scarce permits this short salute:
I see a Beauty that can draw my Soul
Out through my Eyes, by whose exhaling vertue
I am dead every where, but in those parts
Which survive onely that they may view her.

Eth.
Now I must even become a Prodigie
To please his fancie; his strange Expressions
Seem not so much to court as fright a Lady.
And I applaud the strength of my conceit,
That I'm not startled yet: pray Sir tell me
What Shew d'ee please to make Me? Am I turn'd
Into some Blazing Comet? Sure my haires
Do all lie right, and they are still themselves,
They do not hisse nor spit out fire.


21

The.
Ladie,
You have the Beautie and the Majestie
Of any Star, you shine as bright as they,
But not so monstrous; and yet pray heaven that you
Do not portend a Death too. But since
You will not conceive the meaning of a Distance,
I will grow nearer to you, and addresse
My suit in th'approach of a plain language,
My bus'nesse then is humbly to implore
The Influence of your love.

Eth.
Then you have perform'd
Your Bus'nesse, y'ave implor'd it: Fare you well Sir.

Lys.
Nay Ladie bee'nt thus cruel to undo
A man whose onely fault is too much Love:
His wish is not to beg, but to obtain.

Pan.
And yet the whole reward of my Desire
Is but to beg, though I could wish t'obtain.

Eth.
I must confesse he still hath shewn himself
A careful wary Suitor. I've receiv'd
Presents enough to tire my hand ith' taking,
To which I onely can return my thanks.
But he must pardon me if I withhold
My Love: H'hath bin a frequent Visitant,
And oft hath sent his Page to know how well
I took my Rest; nay, even how I dream't:
H'hath been as Scrupulous as a Physitian,
And knowes my sleeps as perfect as my woman:
And yet for all this Care I can bestow
Onely the Charitie of thanks, and wish
That hee'd new place his love upon some Subject
That knew more how to yeeld.

Lys.
See, Sh'hath giv'n
An answer suckt out of my breast; I grant
Y'ave shewn Affection great as are your merits,
For which I can but thank you, and intreat
That you would place your love upon some other,
Soft as your own Desires.


22

The.
Your Answer, Ladie,
Hath onely kill'd with Pity, all the relief
Which I can draw from so misplac'd a kindnesse,
Is but to die.

Eth.
Then I perhaps may shed
One tear upon your Funeral, and wish
That you had been more wise.

Pan.
I was transported
With your unwelcome Answer, that I knew not
How to replie, had not the Charitie
Of your friend helpt, and taught me to confesse
That all your pitie onely bids me die.

The.
Recal your harsher sentence; Let me live
Onely ith' Comfort of one Smile.

Lys.
Do not thus
Betray a man to sadnesse, who can joy
Onely ith' Services he does—for you.

Pan.
You plead well, if your self did not betray
A maid to sadnesse and the wild Company
Of her own tears, for want of the relief
Which you might pour out in one Smile.

Lys.
Alas,
I should but counterfeit.

The.
'Twould appear
Some comfort yet if you would fain a Mirth.

Lys.
Remit some of your hardnesse, and infuse
A soul into him quicker then his own.

Eth.
I cannot blame the weight of his desires,
But wonder Sir at yours: I cannot see
With what hope you might urge his Suit, whil'st thus
A Ladie droops and pines for love of you,
One that deserves a Nobler Mate, if thus
She had not first betraid her own desires:
Expect no other usage to your Theocles
(For Ile not call him mine) then what you cast
Upon Panareta.

Lys.
If't be onely this

23

That keeps your love in, and drives back your smiles,
My friend may yet discern some shew of hope,
And I'm content that you should pattern out
Your entertainment unto Theocles
From mine to your Panareta; (for as yet
I cann't oth' suddain call her mine,)

Eth.
I am content too, what thinks this sadder pair?

The.
I bow to any thing you please to name.

Pan.
And I to what Lysander doth agree.

Eth.
Bee't then concluded; you are firm Lysander?
You'l not flie off?

Lys.
I vow my faith t'observe it.

The.
I see this comfort yet, that if I die,
'Tmust be a friend that kills me.

Pan.
And I am glad
My life's inclos'd within a Sisters Breath.

Eth.
Enough, 'tis all agreed, hereafter we
Shall either know your Faith or Perjurie,— (Exe. Lys. The.)

Nay Sister we expect some other Courtship, I've appointed
My two other servants this day of Visit.

Pan.
Is it a day of hearing then?

Eth.

Yes; in troth this serious Courtship of Theocles had
almost wrought a distemper upon me (for such I count all sadness)
I hold him somewhat too worthy to be listed with that ridiculous
Companie, else I had thought upon some humour for him
too: But Ile lay no other punishment upon him besides a constant
absence, till he hear my pleasure.


Pan.

O Sister, as thou regard'st my Comfort, prithee let nothing
passe from thee that may be at all distastful to him.


Eth.

Well Sister, for your sake Ile studie a Carriage.


To them Eudora.
Eud.

O Madam, yonder's your Brace of humours, as you call
e'm, in the midst of the street quarrelling, but hither I imagine
their course is bent.


Eth.

When they come bring e'm in hither. Sister pray take
your place, and learn by me how to entertain Suitors. It is not


24

fit that these Men should call us Mistresses, and so confidently
proffer their Services for nothing. I would not have e'm so
hypocritical.


SCEN. 4.

To them, Pisis. Lamp. Quarrelling at the door.
Pis.

Slave, Rascal, I'le beat thy Brains out with the hilt of
my Sword.


Lam.
Sir I suppose it is my Mistresse pleasure,
That I should first appear, you stay her Leisure.

Eth.

How now? what Sawcie companions raise this tumult
so nigh me? what you two? I did not think you had stood in
so little awe.


Lam.
Most fairest Ladie, indeed and forsooth
He rudely hath almost beat out my tooth.

Pis.

And Ladie I suppose he did deserve it, in offering to
compare himself with me; nay, and what's more, he did prefer his
Poetry before my valour.


Eth.

Y'are both rude Fellowes, get you to the door agen, let
me see whether you can come in more civilly. Go I say.

They walk to the Door, then return hand in hand:

Why this is well, now let me hear what you can say for your
selves.


Lam.
Fairest of Ladies, hither I am come,
Out of my store of wit to shew you some:
And if you please on this my Present Smile,
(Presents a Paper.)
My self the happiest of Men I'le stile.

Eth.
What have we here, a Paper of Verses? Read e'm.

Lam.
(reads)
Madam, th'Unwritten Paper I had brought
Fair as t'was ith' native hew,
Because it was a thing unfit I thought,
To give ought Blotted unlike you.

25

My weeping Pen with grief began to swell,
Sad that It should nothing send;
Whose Tears by chance to these few verses fell,
Doubtful lest they might offend.
Thus every thing fair Lady I enjoy,
Doth court your Presence, mourns to find you coy.

Eth.

And now, 'faith what Poet has hir'd you to put off his
verses? you bring nothing of your own besides the Tune, you'd
make an incomparable fellow, if you had but a Raw arm, and a
Partner, the structure of whose Body were built upon a woodden
leg, to bellow it out by turnes in a most pitiful unsanctified
Note. Come, I know 'tis some Penny-Rimer or other hath sold
you a stock to set up with, to save the delayes of Printing: Take
you out of this common way, and I know you have no more
Rime in you then a dying Swan, though lesse melody.


Lam.
No, Madam? if for verses you thirst ever,
My Pen shall run, I say, as doth a River.

Pis.

Pox of all his Canting; This foolish thing call'd verse
is a language as bad as Barbarisme to me: I can as soon turn
honest as Rimer.—Divinest Lady; I fear me you'l grow sick
of this bad Poet; give me but leave to silence him, I'le talk him
dead. Speak nothing but Swords and bullets: Or dart a fire
from my Basilisks Eyes shall sindge and stifle all his Poetry: I
will do this or any thing, be it beyond the reach of Man or
Thought, to do you service.


Eth.

Has your Sawcinesse done yet? or do you want breath
to conjure any further? Sure you forgat your Circle, else we
should have seen some darksome Feind rais'd by your Charmes,
or heard a ratling Tempest lowder then the tongue that made it:
know Sir, a Silence would better become those Swelling lips, till
you had known my pleasure. What if I like his Poetry and prefer
it 'bove all the Thunders of your puft up valour? 'Tis no
new thing to wooe in Rime.


Pis.

Lady, since 'tis your will, I'le be as silent as the Grave,
which strait should Swallow up that Bombast Poet, but that you
please to ransom him: My lips shall be seal'd up as close as
Cockles, and never divide Themselves till you uncharm e'm.



26

Eth.

Now as sure as the Death he talk't of, he speaks all by
th' line, his Tongue runs like some mad chain'd dog, thus farre,
and is then checkt for want of room and breath. 'Twere better
He bowes
you had obey'd without the tediousnesse of a reply, and
not have bin thus stubborn out of Duty. Well proceed
Lamprias.


Lam.
I blesse the Tongue that gives me leave, and shall
Thank you hereafter that hee's not my Rivall.

Eth.

And yet 'twere not amisse to thank in present, if your
Rime would bear it. But pray Sir, whence growes this peremptory
noise of yours? who hath inform'd you that Pisistratus is
not the first in my Thoughts?


Lam.
Lady your self hath taught me this, for why
You'd not bid him be silent, unlesse I
Should be the Man, and since you deign this favour,
I shall still be your Creature, still and ever.

Eth.

'Tis true indeed, I bade him be silent, and see, he dares
not so much as whisper; but 'twas only that I might have leisure
to deny you. Do you not see how he is obedient? he dares
not venture so near a disloyalty as but to breathe at's mouth;
he sucks in all the Ayr at his Nostrils onely, and instead of
speaking does but meerly shrug, and faintly nod his head, as if
he fear'd this were a Disobedience too: faith try him, and see
how stubbornly hee'l hold his peace.


Lam.
Pisistratus! why Pisistratus, what hath thy tongue
Forgot his Thunder? Is thy speech all gone?

Eth.

You see he dares not trespasse, and I would you durst
not too.—But did I command you to breathe nothing but
what was clad in verse, and yet forsooth you dare utter your
mind in Prose.


Lam.
Lady 'twas verse I said, I say 'twas verse,
And if you please I will the same rehearse.

Eth.

A very fine, smooth verse indeed, where the Musick ends
in Tongue and Gone: 'twas well chim'd you think: but no matter,
I shall find time to punish these Enormities hereafter; mean
while I'le tempt your Obedience a little further, and command
your Silence, yet 'tis one favour I have done you, that you
practise by Pisistratus, and hold your peace by Rule.



27

Lam.

My Thanks and I could wish—


Eth.

Stop there, and know, when I command a Silence, you
must not promise but perform it: for once I'le pardon you your
Rime, and give you leave to break off ith' middle. Now Pisistratus
I untye your tongue, and expect what you have to say.


Pis.

First let me humbly thank you, that I am still a Souldier,
and may talk.


Eth.

You say right indeed, for most of you are skill'd at no
other weapon.


Pis.

But if you'l give me leave to expresse my Thoughts,
I'm none of those weak counterfeit Warriours; no shadow but
a Souldier; my Part is not to say, but do: I disclaim these
Trifles of Service, this talking way of Courtship: Give me a
danger such as would strike astonishment in the bold Alcides:
Plant me instead of Ordnance against the Walls of a besieged
City, or let me enter on a Grove of Pikes, which I will mow
down like a crop in harvest.


Eth.

Blesse us! what a volley of words is here; you do not
Speak methinks, but Discharge, and make every sentence, a peal.


Pis.

Madam, I bring no puling Elegies, no Poetry I, Bellona
is my Muse, and this bright Sword the onely offering I can present:
but such as when you please shall sacrifice whole Hecatombes
of your Enemies; (if yet among Mortals there be any
so prophane as to injure so Divine a Beauty.)


Eth.

You promise Liberally; but I fear when it should come
to th' Test, your Sword will not be so nimble as the Tongue that
brags on't; it shall be fastned so close in the Scabbard that you
cannot draw it out, or some such pretty toy to delude a danger:
Then instead of fighting you shall swear valiantly against the
Cutler, and give no Death but in your Curses.


Pis.

Lady, your comment wrongs my worth, by your fair
honour, and by those many Victories, which yet sit warm and
fresh upon my cumbred Sword, were he a man, and such whom
often Conquests had made great as my self, and to what height
my vertues have arriv'd, to be thought immortal; if such a man
should speak these words, I would strait confute the wild opinion
of the loose world, and leave this wonder dead before their
Eyes.



28

Eth.

Faith 'twould do well to have some proof of so untam'd
a valour. But yet Sir, methinks you are much mistaken in the
wooing way. Sister, what will you say if I take down this Lyonlike
Champion? this Spirit rampant? I'le undertake with two
words so to humble him, that of a boysterous Roarer, he shall
become as supple a Courtier as you would desire.


Pan.

I should as much admire the miracle, as the power that
effected it.


Eth.

Mark then. Sir, as I told you, methinks you are mistaken
in the way of wooing: I would have a tame Suitor, you
make too much noyse in a Ladies Chamber; pray let me have
your Courtship in a softer Dialect.


Pis.

Madam, the power of your love is so prevalent, that it
can turn me to any shape; I can submit my mounting soul to a
most gentle Carriage and sweet behaviour onely for your sake
Lady.


Eth.

As how Sir? I long for an experiment.


Pis.

Why thus: Divinest Lady, my humble service being
premis'd—


Eth.

What? Do you repeat your Letters? Sure this was the
last you writ to your Country Mistresse. Does it not follow—
Hoping you are as deep in love as I am at the writing hereof—
and so forth?


Pis.

Lady I do esteem't the greatest part of my Duty, still at
the first appearance to present my service to you.


Eth.

What and give the same thing twenty times over? I
thought you had presented that sufficiently already, but now I
begin to suspect it as at anothers command, and none of your
own, you are so free on't.


Pis.

I hope you do not take me for a Serving-man, or Gentleman
Usher, Lady?


Eth.

And yet that lac'd Cloak being so near ally'd to a Livery,
may breed a foul suspition.


Pis.

Fair Madam y'are mistaken.


Eth.

What Sawcebox? tell me I lye. I'le make you more
Obedient.


Pis.

Would it would please you Lady to descend so low, as


29

make me understand your will, you should alwaies find me as
quick in the Execution, as apprehension.


Eth.

Blesse me! my servant all this while, and now to seek in
what pleases me? I'le hear no more at this time, I care not what's
your bus'nesse.


Pan.

Nay Sister, now you are too cruel.


Eth.

My doome's irrevocable; be gone I say; I expect no
reply.


Pis.

Your Creature.


(offers to go out.)
Eth.

Come back agen; my humor's alter'd; and now I
think on't, I'le put a further tryal upon your Loyalty; you begin
to complement pretty well, I'le try the power of love, and
see whether it can file you into a more smooth garb; and to
that purpose I command you (upon pain of my displeasure) to
appear never before me but as your Rival Lamprias is wont, in
Rime. I know you are not such an Enemy to the Muses, but
that upon such an occasion they may smile upon you. And then
for you Lamprias, because I would not have you un-imploy'd,
you shall assume his fighting humour; I love a man compleat in
all wayes. Give him your Sword Pisistratus, he should have
your Buffe Coat, but that your Doublet I fear is Canvas on the
back: I know you'l fight couragiously; and for Pisistratus, I
make no question, but in a short space we shall have him as good
a Poet as most at Court, and make verses on one leg as well as
the best of e'm. Come Sister, let's leave e'm to think on't, when
you are provided let me see you agen.


(Exe. Pan. Eth. Eud.)
Pis.

Make verses on one leg? I warrant they'l halt to the
purpose. Shall I turn Poet and be feasted by the Players? well!
I thank my stars I am not so far to seek yet, but that I can drink,
and take Tobacco, with some other initiating qualities, in which
we Poets and Souldiers are near ally'd.


Lam.

In good faith I have not one quality of a Souldier, but
running away; I think we were best change habits, I could
rime as well in thy Suit, and thou fight as manfully in mine,
couldst not?


Pis.

I but doest think shee's no better sighted, then not to
discern us by our faces?


Lam.

I had forgot that; but what then shall we do?



30

Pis.

Nay that I know not, let's ee'n to our friend Miserotos,
and take his Advice; A Looker on may see better waies in the
game then a Party.


The end of the second Act.