 | Adrasta : or, the Womans Spleene, And Loves Conqvest |  |
Actus 3.
Scena 1.
Enter Antonio, Lucilio following, and by him Damasippus at going to the Rocke, the executioner, Frailware and others with Holbeards.Damasippus.
And as I told you sweet Lady, make your reconcilement with
the world, that you bee not hindred from your death: if you
owe any thing, you must forgive and forget it, that you may dye
according to moralitie.
Lucil.
I thanke your labour Master Damasippus,
I hope my peace with heaven and earth's confirm'd,
And you shall need trouble your selfe no farther.
But you Antonio, whose deserving trust
Must be a witnesse of the latest gaspe
Our fainting soule shall draw, tell to the world
How undivided was the tender love
Betwixt Althea and Lucilio's life:
And let me vow't into thy full beliefe,
That the soft Ayre faun'd with the cooling breath
Of a milde Sommers Evening from the West
Was not lesse murderous than Althea's wish—
Nay weepe not man, we cannot weepe our selves,
We doe intreat this death to end our woes,
Not to encrease them. Farewell Antonio;
And if in after times you heare our friends
Sigh for our haplesse death, bid them desist;
We did but quench the thirst envy had chas'd us into.
—Come honest friend
Discharge your Office, for sorrow 'gins to sit
Heavy upon our heart that faine would rest.
The Executioner with one more leads him up to the Rocke, where he begins to binde his hands, first asking him forgivenesse.
Execut.
Madam, forgive me your death.
Lucil.
Which here I doe
May finde a fearelesse passage through the strange
And uncouth shades that leades our soules to Rest
Enter the Lady Iulia running with her haire dishevell'd.
Iulia.
Where shall I runne to meet, that, which beheld
Kils with a deadlyer wound then doe the eyes
Of coldest poyson of a Basiliske.
She sees them on the Rock.
Althea stay—and let thy wretched Parent
Take the last farewell of her dying childe.
Shee runnes up to them.
Ah why did Nature make my unhappy wombe
Fruitfull by thee, and yet reserve mine age
To out-live the extremities of griefe, and see
Thy dismall end by an untimely death?
Was I reserv'd for this? Or were the crimes
Of our black guilt so horrid in the eyes
Of Heaven, that nothing but the fatall scourge
Of severe justice in the woefull'st forme
Could expiate our sinne? How were I blest
If the first instant that imparted life
To thy scarce featur'd selfe (joy to my wombe)
Had beene the last in which we both had breath'd!
Lucil.
Madam! doe not afflict your selfe, nor let your cares
Live from our death; Althea cannot dye,
But with her innocence does buy a life
That shall extend her worth beyond the reach
Of Time and Envy. Therefore as you respect
Your daughters peacefull happinesse, take truce
With sorrow but till we be dead, and Heaven
That still protects the innocent, will show
How just it is in plaguing those that strive
By treacherous plots to oppresse innocent lives.
Iulia.
Canst thou perswade the Ocean in a storme
To leave her swelling? Or a Bullet shot
To stop its passage? No Althea! no!
The lightest Arrow is not more powerfull sent
Therefore farewell, Ile haste to meet thee there,
Where no injustice nor oppressing tyrannie
Shall sever our embraces; and let this kisse
Seale up that vow upon thy dying lips—
She offers to kisse Lucilio, and putting by his Scarfe he is knowne.
What's here? has sorrow so transform'd thy shape?
Or dull'd the wonted vigour of my sight,
That it sees nothing right proportioned?
Lucil.
Madam conceale me for Althea's love,
Who lives, but banish'd onely for a while;
And let me die that she may freely live;
Iulia.
My Lord Lucilio, doe you mocke my woes?
O where's Althea? have you murder'd her?
And come to upbraid the miseries we feele?
Is't not enough that I must lose that stay
On which my aged widdowhood rely'd;
But you must jest at anguish? Is not our blood
Enough to satisfie the thirst of Treason,
But you must swallow more? Ile not conceale
Your murdering plotts, but lay these Actions ope
To the wide worlds eyes; and leave the rest,
In hope that Heaven, who doth your treacheries view,
As you have dealt, so they may deale with you.
Shee throwes off his Scarfe.
Exit Iulia.
Lucilio offers to throw himselfe off the Rocke.
Serv.
What meanes my Lord?
Lucil.
To dye as I am doom'd,
Therefore let me goe.
Serv.
Antonio, lend your help
To save the Prince, whom you have brought to death.
Anto.
My heart! force him to live, or by the Seat
Of Iustice, you shall die as many deaths
As you have Arteries.
Lucil.
Then we must live to see those griefes alive
Which death would end, and life will but revive.
Anto.
Poste to the Duke before, and let him know
Exit Servant, Frailware and Page.
Lucil.
Antonio: know that I ever held thy faith till now
True to thy friend, and thought thou wouldst assist
His miserie, which thou hadst richly done
If I had dyed.
Anto.
O honour'd Lord, be these
Your harmelesse attempts that you conceal'd
With such a nice reserv'dnesse from your friend?
Come good my Lord, let us repaire to Court
That now stands wondring at this strange report.
Exeunt.
Enter Page and Frailware.
Page.
My Head's in labour with a jest Master Constable, and I
have a warrant to your authoritie to see me well deliver'd on't.
Frail.
I can drinke Sack, and talke bawdy for a need, if it come
within the compasse of my Office.
Page.
Why there be two ingredients then to the composition
of a Midwife, and if you'll be rul'd in the Action, wee shall laugh
and lie downe, and have an excellent banquet at the delivery.
Frail.
Gi'me thy warrant then, and Ile serve it as greedily as a
beggarly Vndersherife does an Action of slander: But what is't?
what is't boy?
Page.
Faith sir, the common danger that haunts men of your
place, fils Theaters, and gives many of your Landlesse Gallants
their gilt Spurres, and their feathers.
Frail.
Vnshale it, unshale it,
Page.
Why Sir, in sober City Italian, that man of little wit,
lesse learning, and no honesty M. Damasippus the Stoick meanes
this Evening with pure moralitie to—
Frail.
What sir?
Page.
Cuckold you sir.
Frail.
Body o'mee! that embleme of hypocrisie; hee lookes as
cold and mortifi'd as a Capon of a weekes killing.
Page.
Hang him Lobster, hee's as hot as a Cocksparrow, and
as irreligious as as a Low-Countrey Lombard: Hee's good for nothing
but that which men keepe old Stallions for: he would have
done rarely well after Deucalions flood, or five hundred of 'hem
on him.
Frail.
Reveng'd? I'll give up my shop to be reveng'd on him,
turne Sumner to plague him with Citations—
Page.
And then out-bribe him, that hee shall finde no mercy
i'th Bumme-Court.
Frail.
Or else I will be sterne in my authoritie, set him in the
Stocks, and set the Stocks at mine owne doore—
Page.
Or else I would hire some Iew to make him factious,
And then get him banish'd to Amsterdam to saw Brazill.
Frail.
Or hire a Witch to take away his Instrument of lust,
and then he'll hang himselfe in his owne girdle.
Page.
Or get some body to promise him some Bookes and a
new Gowne to deny the plurality of the gods, then informe against
him, and goe drunke to see him burnt.
Frail.
Else Ile get him Carted, and lye with his wife the
while.
Page.
I, and send him word of it when he is i'th Cart.
Frail.
Some dreadfull vengeance or other my offended Authority
shall take on him. I protest I never mistrusted it.
Page.
Alas no; I knew you were a true Cuckold innocent.
Frail.
A Cuckold innocent: what's that?
Page.
One of the eight Tribes into which your liverie is divided—Nay,
nay, nay sober Master Constable, be not dejected; let
not your head sinke before it has ful lading: for look you, I'll shew
you the dignitie of your estate: your Cuckoldhood sir is more
worshipfull than the best of all the foure and twenty Companies;
Because in some ages you have had some of the best of all those
Companies Fellowes of the Liverie. Secondly, you have had all
states and rankes belonging to it. Sylla, Domitian and Claudius,
great Emperours of the world, never car'd to be free of the Goldsmiths
or Merchant-Taylors Hall, yet they were huge Cuckolds.
Thirdly, you have your wit in chusing approv'd, which must of
necessitie show you to have beene wise men, and therefore most
commonly you are in Offices. Fourthly you have sometimes better
men to be your followers than your selfe, for they be glad to
follow and come after, where you have beene before. Fiftly, you
have others to worke for the propagation of your name, while
you be idle, and reape the fruits of their labours. And lastly, it
die quickly, you die an innocent—But let me be your Pilot, and if I
doe not learne you a course to pay this Puffin, this all Priapus, this
Goate rampant in's owne kinde, let my wit bee for ever crack't.
Frail.
If thou couldst doe it in some bitter manner.
Page.
Trust me not else—for looke you Sir, if it were a Courtier
of a good perfume, and rich Garter; or a Gallant of the new
fashion, with fresh insides; nay, an 'twere a barren Alderman that
would visit his Wench secretly, and were in the way to authority,
why, 'twere something tolerable. But to be horn'd by a Sir, that's
no Knight, one that will lie as fast as an Alminack-maker, a thredbare-grogran-worsted-lack-Latin!
'tis insufferable.
Frail.
O 'tis, I know 'tis.
Page.
Your onely revenging remedie, then, is prevention in
the same kinde, which you shall most dexterously atchieve me duce,
id est, si ego dux fuero, little Master Constable.
Frai.
How sweet boy, how?
Page.
Doe you but invite Mistris Abigail to Supper this evening,
who knowes nothing of her husbands being there, and leave
the rest to my providence.
Frail.
Ile doe it Boy i'faith, I will, I will indeed Boy.
Page.
About it then, Ile meet you at your comming backe and
give directions for the rest.
Exeunt
Enter the Duchesse disguised, and Mycale a Witch.
Mical.
Your Grace hath beene exceeding patient
To undergoe these paines, and come to us.
Duch.
Good Micale I was unfortunate
I had not knowne thy skill and us'd it sooner;
For since Heavens power denies me just revenge
And meanes, to worke my will, Ile search the depth
Of hels dark'st Angels, but I will dissolve
That firme link'd band of love: and to that end
Shrowded in this disguise I came to thee
That thou maist let some nimble spirit slip
From out the powerfull Circle after her;
And with thy spels pursue her unto death.
Mical.
Madam, It shall be speedily perform'd
And waite the ceremonious houre, while wee
Prepare us for the sacrifice, and provide
Those powerfull ingredients which we use
In the confection of our charmes,
Duch.
I will.
Exit Duchesse.
Song.
Mic.
Sar.
Mic.
While the Moone affords thee light,
While the Dog-Starre shines downright
On the powerfull Aconite,
And the Hearbes appeare in sight.
Sar.
In the spring, and clense you quite,
For Ile soone the Shepheard fright,
And bring home to mend the right
A female Lamb as black as night.
Mic.
Doe not tho forget the stone
In the Toade, nor Serpents bone,
Nor the Mandrake though he groane,
Pull him up, he is our owne.
Sar.
The great blacke Cat from jumping Jone,
And make the Nurse and Mother moane
When their fatlings throat is showne:
Mic.
Lucil.
Where be we now Antonio! is not this life
On the farre side of death, and sinkes beyond
A non existens? Hadst thou not made thy friend
Blest in thy faith, if thou hadst yeelded way
To my desires, and I had cleerly leapt
From the maine top of mischiefe, and falne short
Of these calamities? Oh the grosse oversight
Of our mistaking nature, that is so base
To buy a draught of ayre with seas of ills!
Or thinke we benefit a friend, when wee
Doe turne his houre-glasse to make life runne;
Though every minute hailes downe mis-fortune thick
As it doth Sand into the empty receptacle.
Anto.
Nay, give me leave to tell your Grace my Lord,
This strong desire of death, that hath possest
Your will thus farre, does not expresse the signes
Of that true valour your spirit seemes to beare;
For 'tis not courage, when the darts of chance
Are throwne against our State, to turne our backs,
And basely runne to death; as if the hand
Of Heaven and Nature had lent nothing else
To oppose against mishap, but losse of life,
Which is to flie and not to conquer it.
For know it were true valours part, my Lord,
That when the hand of chance had crush'd our States,
Ruin'd all that our fairest hopes had built,
And thrown't in heaps of desolation;
Then by those ruines for our thoughts to climbe
Vp, till they dar'd blinde fortune to the face,
And urg'd her anger to increase those heaps,
That we might rise with them, and make her know
Wee were above, and all her power below.
Why this my Lord would prove us men indeed.
But when affliction thunder o'r our Roofe,
To hide our heads, and runne into our graves
Shewes us no men, but makes us fortunes slaves.
Antonio, thou wouldst turne Philosopher
To doe thy friend a kindnesse; but 'tis not wordes
Our businesse askes, we must have action now.
Thou seest my fathers anger for this freeing
Althea from her death, swels like a tide
Halfe flowne, that labours 'gainst an adverse winde,
And does command us leave the Court awhile,
And passe for Greece (as if our travaile could
Be Bawd unto the chastity of faith
That's vow'd to vertue) when my long weary'd minde,
Already's toyling in a pilgrimage
Vp to the shrine of Natures rich perfections:
Therefore Antonio thou must take the shape
Of all (save misery) that I containe:
And for I know my fathers jealousie
Will entertaine all rumours that are left
Where ere my name passe; thou must bee Lucilio:
And so my name travaile alone with thee
It will suffice; for fame doth sometimes gull
The best intelligence. Then shape thy course
Farthest from Athens, to those parts of Greece
Where I am least knowne.
Anton.
Pardon me my Lord
If I consent not: for should your safety call
To leap the Tyrrhene Cliffs into the maine,
Stand in the face of a fir'd Canon,
Or hale a sleeping Lyon from the way
Where you must passe, my love would force me runne
Against the edge of danger for your life.
But this is onely a pretended shew
To win our absence, that none may interrupt
Your torrent of impatience, that posts
Like melted Snow from off the Apenine
Downe to destruction.
Luci.
Thou art curious still
With our intentions, and mistak'st me much.
Beleev't Antonio if I might have dyed
When the vast flood of spleene was at the full,
And thought to overflow whole worlds of love:
And pull downe innocence to trample on't,
And sweet Revenge was at her qu to speake
From my bruis'd bones; then death had been a heaven:
But now my head's turn'd brasse, & speakes times past,
And harden'd is against the worst of ils,
Though every frowne my angry mother gives
Should come like hammers 'gainst my forehead,
Anton.
May I beleev't my Lord,
Lucil.
By Heaven I will,
And so resolve: yet for thy farther trust,
I will bee open to thee; my meaning is
To put off name and habit for a while,
Till I have found Althea, and knit that knot
Which hell it selfe shall never violate;
And therefore carry rumour still with thee,
That it may have no leasure to descry
What I embrace. Farewell Antonio!
And prethee let this evening bee the last
Of thy delay: Heaven will be my friend,
And send content, or give my woes an end.
Exit Lucilio.
Anton.
Soft, Ile not leave you to goe seek that end: your name
shall travaile, but Ile not carry it. Though you have vow'd not to
procure your death; you are in love—
Enter Alastor and Assassino quarrelling.
Alast.
D'sfoote Sir, your speeches be peremptory.
Assas.
Why Sir, I said it, and I say it agen, that the Dukes
Sonne was a foole, and a mad-man, to venture his life for ere a
womans love in Italy.
Alast.
I yeeld Sir, 'twas a madpart to venture a painful death
for a woman, when a woman will venture nothing but she'll have
pleasure at one end of it, for the life of a man; yet the Dukes Sonne
was not a madman for it.
Assas.
I say he was.
Alast.
I say you lie.
—Assassino gives him a blow;
D'foote Sir, you will not strike me?
Yes, and whip thee with Birch i' the Nose.
Exit stalking.
Anton.
Bravely perform'd Alastor, 'tis politiquely done, bee
noble and doe not strike.
Alast.
Why sir, this is not mine owne sword.
Anton.
And therefore thou hadst no authority to use it. Come
I have other businesse for thee, that shall gaine thee gold.
Alast.
I thanke you sir, for indeed I had a suit to you before.
Anton.
It is the better trade of the two by halfe: I know thou
canst begg valiantly: but to the businesse. Thou knowst my Lord
Lucilio goes away in disgrace 'twixt banishment and travaile: he
is not well, and therefore would stay behinde a while unknowne:
onely thou must goe before and put on his name, that
the world may take notice of his passage, and hold rumour busie,
till hee comes privately and overtakes thee—But come to my
lodging, where Ile dispose of farther particulars, and furnish thee
with apparell and crownes for thy journey.
Alast.
I attend you sir.
exeunt.
A Table set forth covered with a cloth.
Enter Mistris Frailware.
Mistris Frail.
Why Debora I say! why Debora.
Debor.
Anon forsooth.
—within.
Mistris Frail.
Come bring away the Napkins quickly, and
make ready here, (these heavy Ars'd wenches are so slow) and
doe you heare, bid one of the Boyes fetch me a Pinte of Oligant,
Buls Blood, and a quart of Canary; and look that the white Broth
with Eringoes and Marrow be not over-boyl'd; I know M. Damasippus
loves it well.
Enter Damasippus.
Damus.
Ioy and peace of minde be to my deare Pupill, let mee
give thee a morall kisse.
Mistris Frai.
In pure moralitie M. Damasippus, you are most
heartily welcome—Would this wench would come away that
wee had Supper once.
Damas.
That word hath eterniz'd thee my sweet Ambrosia;
Wherefore let the beloved of Iove feast and banquet according to
moralitie.
Enter Debora with Supper.
Mistris Frail.
You are so full of learned sayings still: I have
studyed too a great while, would I could reade once.
Dam.
Soule of the world! thou shalt bee illuminated without
reading, for I will infuse knowledge into thee, and thou shalt bee
repleate.
Mistris Fra.
Can you doe so M. Damasippus?
Dam.
I can my Summum bonum: and thou shalt have the
Mandragoras for thy fecundity; and I will free thee from the vicious
note of sterility.
Mistris Fra.
O the blessings of these Philosophers! Come
sweet M. Damasippus, sit, and lets sup quickly.
Dam.
Content.
Enter Debora running.
Debor.
O Mistris! my Master and Mistris Abigail are comming
up the street together.
Dam.
Thunder from heaven confound 'hem, and the fire of
Ætna consume their steps.
Mistris Fra.
Charitable M. Damasippus, get in here till I can
shift 'hem—so, 'tis well,
She hides him.
Enter Master Frailware and Mistris Abigail.
Master Fra.
Good Mistris Abigail, I was sure before hee was not
here. How now wife! at high Supper! and Wine! and Iunkets!
and knacks! and all alone! this feast would have beseem'd thy
friends and Neighbours, the worshipfull of the Parish, our fellow
Magistrates: but I thanke thee for't, I have a stomacke now as
sharp—as if I would eate for anger. I would not for a pound I
were to beguile any one of his Supper to night, Come sit
Mistris Abigail.
Abig.
Mistris Frailware will you sit by your husband?
Mistris Fra.
No forsooth, my stomack does so wamble: when
Supper was dressing methought I could eate such a deale;
bring Mistris Abigal into my Chamber, I think I shall be very ill.
Master Frail.
By and by duck, we follow thee—so, fit as close
to mee now as mine Office, and here's a health in Canary to the
formall Cuckold thy Husband.
Abi.
Fy M. Frailware that you'll have such a fearfull word in
your mouth.
Master Frail.
Hang him, hee's a Goate, and thou hast, and shalt
make him deserve it.
Abigail.
I must confesse hee has a stinking breathe indeed;
& that I have traversd the path of goodfellowship for your sake.
Master Fra.
I, and wilt doe still, though thy Husband heard
thee say so.
Abig.
I and will doe it though my husband heard mee.
M. Fra.
Why now thou speak'st like a sister of the Lecture, and
according to moralitiy.
Abig.
Nay I have been forward enough to you M. Frailware,
ever since my first marriage: for in good earnest I did marry M. Damasippus,
only because I saw the Philosophers wives goe with the
first of the Parish, and so forth—but my heart—
M. Fra.
Let the City have it wench, and let my fine pure formall
peece of Stoicity weare out six grogran Elbowes with pleading
moralities, and counterfeit railing against the sinnes of the flesh;
spend all hee can flatter from women to play the Epicure; and
then make ragged Lectures and exercises in Cellars and Gravell
Pits for a collection of seven pence, ere thou giv'st him so much
as a good wish.
Abig.
Nay so hee shall; for truely he is growne a very Pharao,
a hard-hearted Mirmidon to me of late.
M. Fra.
A ficus for him whorson Crab; hee playes the Goate
rampant abroad I heare.
Ab.
'teene makes me many times wish him in his grave, that
he might sleepe and I were free.
M. Fra.
Thou art free now my sweet Ab: come, gi'me a threave
of kisses—who would live tyed to such a Bull of Bason.
Enter Page disguised like a Fidler.
Page.
Will please you have any Musick?
M. Fra.
Musick! most opportunely welcome; wee'll make a
night on't now: strike up Tigellius.
Away with him prophane Tavern-Leech.
Master Fra.
Nay prethee Mistris Abigail have patience.
Abig.
I will not heare it.
Master Fra.
By this kisse you must—play on sirrha—
Musick is a noble Science.
Ab.
Well this fit would cost me an exercise if my Husband knew
it: but I can endure any thing for your sake sweet M. Frailware.
Master Fra.
God a mercy—
What an earthquake! more Devils i'the Vault? are you fir'd, and
will blow us up? who have we here?
Page.
The very'st Cuckold of a dozen.
Master Fra,
Neighbour Damasippus! now by my authoritie
welcome into the Livery: wee'll have a company shortly.
Abig.
O, my husband! I will goe to an exercise presently,
that the gods may appease your wrath.
exit.
Master Fra.
I see our wives will bring us to all the venerable
degrees of the City, before they have done.
Dam.
Frailware, I will curse thee from the Temple of Diana;
and thou shalt be excarnify'd by doggs.
Master Fra.
We are Acteons both: let us knock heads.
Page.
Step before him and shut the doore, I have a plot against
his Beard. ha ha ha—
exeunt.
Enter Duchesse and Micale.
Duch.
Now tell us Micale
What Sacrifice was that held you so long,
And would not admit our presence?
Mic.
Madam, I must disclose more than the secresie
Of our rul'd Discipline will well permit,
If I reveale each Act particular,
And forme that that dread Sacrifice includes.
But what I may without the prejudice
Of our strict and inviolable Canons,
Your Grace shall know, Iust at the depth of night,
(Which time is Ceremonious) I went downe
To a cleare Fountaine, where I bath'd and cleans'd me
From head to foote? Then tooke a female Lamb
That might receive the sacrificed blood,
I open'd all the Veins that traversed
The neck, untill I left the carkasse dry:
Then with a hallow'd Knife I separate
The head, and splatted it. That done, I heapt
A pile of consecrated fire, whereon
Now burnes the body of the Holocaust.
Then tooke I Infants fat, and luke-warme blood
Drawne from it's throate, mingl'd with Viper Wine,
And distill'd Hemlock, with the Mandrakes roote,
Night-shade, Moonwort, and dreadfull Aconite,
Which to the flame I powr'd with Milke and Honey,
A holy banquet to great Hecate
Whom we invoke; and leave the sacred fire.
Soone as our backs are turn'd, we heare a noyse
In hideous shapes, that would affright and shake
The constant'st force of Natures best Male courage:
Yet must we not looke back whence they proceed,
For then all's frustrate; but as the fire consumes
The offerings impos'd, the groanings cease,
And then appeare the Spirits which wee implore,
And which will ne'r appeare unlesse first pleas'd
With some oblation.
Duch.
How doe you point the formes which they assume?
Mic.
Each hath his private Charme, peculiar for the shape
which pleaseth most, and is least fearfull.
Enter Sarvia with a Looking-glasse.
Sar.
Mother the noyse is done,
The flames grow pale and dimme, and in dark showes
Speake the approaching horrour which they feele.
Mic.
Be gone and leave us then—Now Madam sit,
Takes the glasse.
And in this glasse behold what Magick feature
There riseth from the earth to doe you service.
Shee sets the Duchesse so that the Spirit may rise behind them both looking in the glasse together.
Duch.
What Spirit is this?
Mic.
This is a common spirit of much practise; it goes in the
forme of a young Gentlewoman worne out of service, and keepes
her residence in the Suburbs, till she has ingross'd all the diseases
of the City, which she delivers by whole sale to her customers:
From sixteene to foure and twenty; shee is for none but Bever
Hats, Gold Lace, and Taffety Linings: Before thirty she fals to
Roaring Boyes, Sharks, Servingmen and Artificers: from thence
to Porters and Skavingers; till freed by all degrees, she becomes a
Nurse of the Trade by five and forty; then many times a six penny
Witch, and so back againe to an everlasting Devill.
The second Spirit riseth.
Duch.
What is this?
Mic.
This is a Spirit Madam that takes many times the habit of
an old Gentlewoman, gets into Ladies familiarities, & teaches the
tempers of Complexion, the composition of meats that strengthen
and provoke luxury: the use of quelque choses and Dildoes: has
Aretine at her fingers ends. 'Twas she that first invented double
Locks, and a sute of Keyes to every Office: Shee exalted the horne
of the Buttery, & made the Silver Bole neglect the company of the
black Iack: and preferr'd a Bill against eating Breakfasts and sitting
up late, to the prejudice of Tallow-Chandlers. In fine, shee
sets Families together by the eares, and flattering her selfe into
great mens expenses, becomes the bane of Hospitalitie.
Duch.
'Tis a familiar Spitit, methinkes I could bee acquainted
with her—But who is this?
The third Spirit.
Mic.
O this is a Devill of many shapes, and indeed Madam seldome
at leisure, that wee can have any use of him. He fawnes him
into services of place, and perswades men, otherwise morally civil,
from the chaste Sheets of their beautifull and vertuous mariages:
becomes an Intelligencer, and panders them to Milk-maids, Kitchin-wenches,
abhorres, and Hell trembles at, so his Lord sin with him. He is
a very chain'd slave to his Masters vices, and leaves him in nothing
but Actions of honour and vertue. An other time hee is a concealed
Druggist or Apothecary, puts on the name of a great Traviller,
poysons at an houre, and is in great request.
Duch.
Speake to him good Micale, and let him know our businesse.
Mic.
Stay then thou Spirit of night, and by the power
The chiefe commander of your shades hath lent,
I doe adjure thee tell where lives Althea?
The Spirit whispers Micale behinde.
He tels me Madam, in the Mountaines farre from hence.
Duch.
But how shall we procure her death?
He whispers Micale as before.
Mic.
By poyson! gi'mee something then that kils
Past Cure, and speedily—it is sufficient.
Hee gives her a Violl and exit.
I have a nimble Spirit at command
That by an oyntment which we doe apply
To parts of our mark'd bodies, is at hand,
Who posts us through the regions of the ayre,
When oft wee meet at solemne festivals,
Or doe admit a novice to the oath
Of our abstruse and powerfull discipline:
Leave it to us, and ere to morrowes Sunne
Touch but three Points of West beyond Mid-noone,
My selfe will see Althea dead.
Duch.
Thanks gentle Micale, for thou hast eas'd me much,
Ile not forget thy paines, nor leave thy skill
Without regard, for wee have much to know.
Mic.
'Tis a curious age Madam, and we are full
Of businesse now, so many come to know
Who shall survive, their Husbands or themselves;
And then how long; whom they shall marry next;
To raise their titles; with a million more
Of womens questions—But the day begins
To looke upon us.
Duch.
I must hasten then
Least some mis-fortune doe discover me:
Farewell Micale, hell prosper our designe.
Mic.
Feare it not Madam, I will not sleep nor eate,
Till by Althea's death I joyntly free
Your Sonne and House from Cupids Tyranny.
exeunt.
| Adrasta : or, the Womans Spleene, And Loves Conqvest | |