The Scornful Lady. Beaumont Francis

cool your part o'th' Posset, you may chance have a scalding zeal else; and you will needs be doing, pray tell your twenty to your self. Would you could like this Sir?

      Wel. I would your Sister would like me as well Lady.

      Mar. Sure Sir, she would not eat you: but banish that imagination; she's only wedded to her self, lyes with her self, and loves her self; and for another Husband than herself, he may knock at the gate, but ne're come in: be wise Sir, she's a Woman, and a trouble, and has her many faults, the least of which is, she cannot love you.

      Abig. God pardon her, she'l do worse, would I were worthy his least grief, Mistris Martha.

      Wel. Now I must over-hear her.

      Mar. Faith would thou hadst them all with all my heart; I do not think they would make thee a day older.

      Abig. Sir, will you put in deeper, 'tis the sweeter.

      Mar. Well said old sayings.

      Wel. She looks like one indeed. Gentlewoman you keep your word, your sweet self has made the bottom sweeter.

      Abig. Sir, I begin a frolick, dare you change Sir?

      Wel. My self for you, so please you. That smile has turn'd my stomach: this is right the old Embleme of the Moyle cropping of Thistles: Lord what a hunting head she carries, sure she has been ridden with a Martingale. Now love deliver me.

      Rog. Do I dream, or do I wake? surely I know not: am I rub'd off? Is this the way of all my morning Prayers? Oh Roger, thou art but grass, and woman as a flower. Did I for this consume my quarters in Meditation, Vowes, and wooed her in Heroical Epistles? Did I expound the Owl, and undertook with labour and expence the recollection of those thousand Pieces, consum'd in Cellars, and Tabacco-shops of that our honour'd Englishman Ni. Br.? Have I done this, and am I done thus too? I will end with the wise man, and say; He that holds a Woman, has an Eel by the tail.

      Mar. Sir 'tis so late, and our entertainment (meaning our Posset) by this is grown so cold, that 'twere an unmannerly part longer to hold you from your rest: let what the house has be at your command Sir.

      Wel. Sweet rest be with you Lady; and to you what you desire too.

      Abig. It should be some such good thing like your self then. [Exeunt.

      Wel. Heaven keep me from that curse, and all my issue. Good night Antiquity.

      Rog. Solamen Miseris socios habuisse Doloris: but I alone.

      Wel. Learned Sir, will you bid my man come to me? and requesting a greater measure of your learning, good night, good Master Roger.

      Rog. Good Sir, peace be with you. [Exit Roger.

      Wel. Adue dear Domine. Half a dozen such in a Kingdom would make a man forswear confession: for who that had but half his wits about him, would commit the Counsel of a serious sin to such a cruel Night-cap? Why how now shall we have an Antick? [Enter Servant. Whose head do you carry upon your shoulders, that you jole it so against the Post? Is't for your ease? Or have you seen the Celler? Where are my slippers Sir?

      Ser. Here Sir.

      Wel. Where Sir? have you got the pot Verdugo? have you seen the Horses Sir?

      Ser. Yes Sir.

      Wel. Have they any meat?

      Ser. Faith Sir, they have a kind of wholesome Rushes, Hay I cannot call it.

      Wel. And no Provender?

      Ser. Sir, so I take it.

      Wel. You are merry Sir, and why so?

      Ser. Faith Sir, here are no Oats to be got, unless you'l have 'em in Porredge: the people are so mainly given to spoon-meat: yonder's a cast of Coach-mares of the Gentlewomans, the strangest Cattel.

      Wel. Why?

      Ser. Why, they are transparent Sir, you may see through them: and such a house!

      Wel. Come Sir, the truth of your discovery.

      Ser. Sir, they are in tribes like Jewes: the Kitchin and the Dayrie make one tribe, and have their faction and their fornication within themselves; the Buttery and the Landry are another, and there's no love lost; the chambers are intire, and what's done there, is somewhat higher than my knowledge: but this I am sure, between these copulations, a stranger is kept vertuous, that is, fasting. But of all this the drink Sir.

      Wel. What of that Sir?

      Ser. Faith Sir, I will handle it as the time and your patience will give me leave. This drink, or this cooling Julip, of which three spoonfuls kills the Calenture, a pint breeds the cold Palsie.

      Wel. Sir, you bely the house.

      Ser. I would I did Sir. But as I am a true man, if 'twere but one degree colder, nothing but an Asses hoof would hold it.

      Wel. I am glad on't Sir, for if it had proved stronger, you had been tongue ti'd of these commendations. Light me the candle Sir, I'le hear no more. [Exeunt.

      Enter young Loveless and his Comrades, with wenches, and two Fidlers.

      Yo. Lo. Come my brave man of war, trace out thy darling,

      And you my learned Council, sit and turn boyes,

      Kiss till the Cow come home, kiss close, kiss close knaves.

      My Modern Poet, thou shalt kiss in couplets.

      Enter with Wine.

      Strike up you merry varlets, and leave your peeping,

      This is no pay for Fidlers.

      Capt. O my dear boy, thy Hercules, thy Captain

      Makes thee his Hylas, his delight, his solace.

      Love thy brave man of war, and let thy bounty

      Clap him in Shamois: Let there be deducted out of our main potation

      Five Marks in hatchments to adorn this thigh,

      Crampt with this rest of peace, and I will fight

      Thy battels.

      Yo. Lo. Thou shalt hav't boy, and fly in Feather, Lead on a March you Michers.