University of Virginia Library

SCÆNA III.

To them at doore first, afterwards enter'd Call: Neand: Art:
Call.
You'l not exact the Word of us, I hope,
My pretty Perdue Virgin; if you doe,
Pray call your Corporall.

Neand:
We doe not come
As Spyes; If you suspect, commit us to
Your Ladies.

Art.
Or else keepe us prisoners in
Your Corpes of Guard, till they release us.

Marth.
Now,
I know y'are freinds, you may passe. I was set
Here to attend your coming; To prevent
Your danger of mistaking the right Tent.

Call.
We should have found that by Instinct.

Neand.
Bright Ladies,
We have made bold to use the Liberty
You gave us; And try what campe houres you keepe.

Art:
I hope w'are not unseasonable; we
Came, Ladies, to keepe watch with you.

Orith.
The time
Oth' night addes to our visit; Had you come
By day, y'had brought but halfe your selves, and onely
Made visit to our eyes; where all that could
Have past, had beene to see, and to be seene.

Art:
True, Ladies, whereas now you have us all;
And other Senses may be pleased too; And
Goe sharers with the sight.

Thal.
Besides, The Day
Turnes all Things into Chrystall, Sir; Our Tents
Had beene transparent, like their Silkes; And we
Had not beene private in our Closets.

Neand.
Right;
Whereas the Night turnes all Things into Shade;
And drawes Jet curtaines 'bout our pleasures; And
Makes a faire Lady invisible in ones Armes.

Orith:
Will you vouchsafe to sit and taste of this
Slight Banquet, Gentlemen.

Call:
You make it Three.

Thal.
You do not reckon us 'mongst Marmalade,
Quinces, and Apricots? or take us for
Ladies preserved?

Call:
No Ladies; yet I hope
'Tis no offence to say y'are each of you
A various Banquet, where a breathing sweetnesse
Feasts the Spectatours; And diverts all thought
Of eating to beholding; And from beholding
T'enjoying.

Neand:
All these do take value,
Not from the Art, which joyn'd to nature, made 'em,
But from you who bestow 'em. These Cherries do
Take Colour from your Lippes; This Amber casts
A perfume from your Breath; what ere's delightfull
In them reflects from you.

Art:
And least there should
Be Musicke wanting to this Banquet, when
You speake, the Syrens sing

Orith.
Y'have brought, we see,
The art to flatter and dissemble with you.

Thal:
I now begin to feare you. It can't be
You should thus faine and love us.

Neand:
Not love you, Ladies?
Why what signes would you have? What is required
To Love which we would not performe?

Thal:
Would you
Fight for us, if need were?

Orith:
Or enter duell
In Defence of our Honours?

Neand:
Would we? By
This hand, should you command, we would, our selves
Alone, now venture on the Thracian Campe.

Call:
Or presently send challenges to Nine
Of their best Captaines, to fight Three to One.

Art:
We will do more then fight; with your faire leaves,
We will get Fighters on you.

Orith.
Is that your errand?

Art:
That, and to helpe away the Solitude
And tediousnesse oth' night.

Thal:
Well, since we do
Beleeve you valiant, and worthy of our favours,
How will you order things? Three to two Women
Is one to much:

Orith.
One must stand out; unlesse
You'l take the Centinell in for a Third.
To men of your indifferent purposes
It should be all one; she's of the right Sex.

Neand:
We'l draw cuts who shall have her. What say you
My pretty Diomed oth' Cawdles, will you
For one night lay aside your contemplations
They draw Lots.
How to take Towne in Marchpane; or expresse
The Siege of Thebes, or Travels of Ulisses
In sweet meats, And make one of us?

Mar:
I'le take
My fortune Sir,

Neand:
Artops, She's yours; I did
Præsage thy melting Hymnes, and Straines, would end
In a Corne-Cutter.

Art.
She is not fifty Sir,
Nor I the fifteenth in succession, to
A Flavia, who brings manchet to the Campe;
This is no Sutlers wife.

Thal:
Go wench prepare
The Beds.

Orith:
But should you, now, reveale, or rumour
Your Entertainment.

Call:
Do you thinke us ill-bred Rascals?
Fellowes that can't conceale?

Thal:
Or should you tell
How kind, how free you found us how we used you—

An Alarme within.
Ne.
We'l rather cut our tongues out & live speechles.

Ori:
Hark, what meanes this?

Tha:
The Camp is up in Armes.