The Scornful Lady Part 5

_Rog_. Reproving him at Tra-trip Sir, for swearing; you have the total surely.

_Wel_. You told him when his rage was set a tilt, and so he crackt your Canons. I hope he has not hurt your gentle reading: But shall we see these Gentlewomen to night.

_Rog_. Have patience Sir until our fellow _Nicholas_ be deceast, that is, asleep: for so the word is taken: to sleep to dye, to dye to sleep, a very figure Sir.

_Wel_. Cannot you cast another for the Gentlewomen?

_Rog_. Not till the man be in his bed, his grave: his grave, his bed: the very same again Sir. Our Comick Poet gives the reason sweetly; _Plenus rimarum est_, he is full of loope-holes, and will discover to our Patroness.

_Wel_. Your comment Sir has made me understand you.

_Enter_ Martha _the_ Ladies _Sister_, _and_ Younglove, _to them with a Posset_.

_Rog_. Sir be addrest, the graces do salute you with the full bowl of plenty. Is our old enemy entomb'd?

_Abig_. He's safe.

_Rog_. And does he snore out supinely with the Poet?

_Mar_. No, he out-snores the Poet.

_Wel_. Gentlewoman, this courtesie shall bind a stranger to you, ever your servant.

_Mar_. Sir, my Sisters strictness makes not us forget you are a stranger and a Gentleman.

_Abig_. In sooth Sir, were I chang'd into my Lady, a Gentleman so well indued with parts, should not be lost.

_Wel_. I thank you Gentlewoman, and rest bound to you. See how this foul familiar chewes the Cud: From thee, and three and fifty good Love deliver me.

_Mar_. Will you sit down Sir, and take a spoon?

_Wel_. I take it kindly, Lady.

_Mar_. It is our best banquet Sir.

_Rog_. Shall we give thanks?

_Wel_. I have to the Gentlewomen already Sir.

_Mar_. Good Sir _Roger_, keep that breath to 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_. G.o.d 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 gra.s.s, 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?