University of Virginia Library

SCEN. 4.

To them, Philonax. Hyp.

—Noble Philonax, your quick arrival
Honours your Servants, and I hope shall meet
Their thanks in an Enjoyment of their wishes.

Phi.
Thanks Melesippus, if I should adde Father,
'Twere but a while to antedate that Name,
I know she cann't stand out long against me.
Worthy Diarchus your Servant.

Dia.
I embrace
Your love, and wish that we were nearer yet
By an Allyance.

Phi.
You wrong your judgment, Sir,
To wish it, shee's mine already.

Mel.
Or else no child of mine,
We have onely chaff'd the virgin wax,
To make her fit for your Impression.

Dia.
I hope his Confidence will prevail,
Wee'l leave you to your starres, and courtship now.

Mel.
Be pliant Girle.

(Exe. Mele. Diar.)
Phi.
Fair Lady, I am not like those that aym
Instead of a fair wife to steal a Portion,
But bring a Dowry with me; nor do I wooe
With a set form of weary Complements,
But with a strong Inchanting Title: tell me,
Art thou the Senators Bride?

Art.
Sir, the Confidence
Which your Deserts put on, would misbecome
My native modestie: 'twere Arrogance
T'accept proffers so beyond my state,
And I should thereby seem to grant some worth
Which caus'd your liking.

Phi.
Strange, that we should be
Deny'd because we are too great; a Title
That other Ladies are ambitious of,
Whose queazy Conscience stands not on such points
To refuse honour. I have heard of some
Have bin with child meerly with a deep thought
Of a great Title; I must needs confesse
It was my Fate to be born high and noble,
Of proud Command; but yet I can vouchsafe
And deign t' accept your love.

Art.
Worthy Sir,
Do not thus stoop below your self, alas!
When I shall sit circled within your Armes,
How shall I cast a blemish on your honour,
And appear onely like some falser stone
Plac'd in a ring of gold, which growes a Jewel
But from the seat which holds it.

Phi.
How I love
One that so well can read my swelling worth
At the first sight. Know then Artemone,
My Judgment chooses Thee; for so it will
Be stil'd what e're I do: our great Revenues
Would prove half fruitlesse if that we could erre:
It is a main prerogative of honour
To be discreet whether we will or no;
We are infallible whil'st we have thus much gold;
To be call'd Prudent and Judicious,
We challenge now as we would do our Rents:
Th'art fair, and worthy, when th'art my Bride.

Art.
But I could wish I'de somwhat of my own,
That my timerous consent might not wrong your merits.

Phi.
Ne're talk oth' disproportion; I'de not wed
One whose estate already were as great,
But I would marry that we might be equal:
And even as far as love can make us so
We are already.

Art.
Sir, if you understand a virgins Face
Painted with red whil'st a true Lover's by,
You have my meaning.

Phi.
I've a divining guesse,
And do conceive so well, that I could wish
You would pronounce my thoughts, and blesse your self
With that rich word of being call'd my Bride.

Art.
Then I assume the honour of your Bride.

Phi.
And thus we seal the Contract. I knew alwaies
(kisses her.
'Twas but the weaknesse of thy modestie
That kept thee off: though some to try my Faith,
Would often buzze in my incredulous Eares,
That 'twas the love of one Lysander.

Art.
He
Once begg'd indeed that he might be my servant.

Phi.
Thy Servant? 'faith handsomely urg'd, he sure
Observes the learned Roman Apothegmes,
And thinks it the best way to gain a Kingdome
By his obedience: Thus hee'l be your slave,
That he may rule and fetter you; thus he wooes
With language pickt up from the Senate house:
The vanity of these Affected Lovers
Which hide their Suit in that submissive strain,
Were well rewarded not to be understood.

Art.
With pardon Sir, 'tis but the common garb
And fashion of most Suitors.—

Phi.
I, the common garbe,
Give me a man that scorns that beaten way,
And owes his Passage to himself; 'Tis base,
And argues a low spirit, to be taught
By Custome, and to let the vulgar grow
To our example: 'Tis to betray a Virgin,
And urge the merit of a Treachery
To win Affection: I do not love
This ridling Dialect, and how ever grown
Above the pitch of any thing that's vulgar,
Am plain in my Demands: Tell me, art 'mine,
I adde not Mistresse, be that the fein'd voyce
Of them who stretch their wits but to delude
And cheat thy love.

Art.
Sir, I am so far yours
As you shall please to stile me, and embrace
The Name of any Thing your will puts on me.

Phi.
'Tis the discretion of thy modesty
Thus to rely on me; but prithee tell me,
Is there no rival-Name left in thy bosome?
Does no part of Lysander still rest there?
Is He quite vanisht? for I would be loath
To mingle Faith, and to divide Affection;
Thou should'st be mine intire.

Art.
I would not wrong
A Suitor of that bounteous worth which dwells
Within your prudent breast, with an half Marriage
I should be then but partly blest, since all
My happinesse is onely thus confirm'd
In being wholly yours. But I can bring
A stronger proof then my bare Testimony,
Thus to clear all suspition of a love
Ty'd to some other; here I humbly offer,
And (though against the priviledge of my Sexe)
Beg your acceptance that we may be joyn'd
As firm together as each of us are
Chain'd to our selv's; Let the Marriage knot
Combine our hands in witnesse of the league
Made by our twinn'd Soules.

Phi.
Thus thou hast remov'd
All scruple from my Thougths, 'Tis not the voyce
Of Hymen, nor his Priest can more confirm
My faith in Thee: But for that other knot
Which links our hands together, that a while
Must be defer'd, to be attended on
By the magnificence of Ceremony.
It were a scandal to the height in which
My Dignity is sphear'd to have a wedding
With no more Celebration then the Priests:
I must not wound my Fame, nor let my state
Thus long held up now droop, and grow obscure,
They must be both kept whole, and my repute
Must flourish still unblemisht.

Art.
My desires
Shall wait on yours, amd I'le no more pursue
The haste of Marriage, since 'tis your command
That we expect it still.

Phi.
How I applaud
The obedience of thy love! A while farewel:
But stay; we must yet e're I leave thee, thus
Salute, else we have parted all this while:
I am not yet skill'd in the Complements
Which love requires: no matter, I shall learn e'm.
Once more farewel: I'le hasten the dispatch
Of all fit Entertainments.
(Exe. Philo.)

Art.
Sir, farewel:
So; to my wish; Now whom Lysander hates
Shall reap the comfort of my Bridal bed:
I am not taken with this Philonax
For all his stiles of honour: but no matter,
It is resolv'd, I'le love him; and perhaps
Wean him from those false pleasures, which his Pride
Hath fastned on him; I see his vanity,
He courts, as if against all Cupids rules,
He would command upon the Marriage day,
And yet I sooth him in it, lest my Coynesse
Should drive him back, and my revenge be lost:
Hereafter I'le reform him, and so gain
A praise to vengeance, which though 'tis a vice,
(If all hit right) yet shall produce a vertue.

(Exe. Omnes.)