Act I, Scene III.

Lady, Palate, Rut.
Lad. I, tis his fault, she's not bestow'd,
My brother Interests. Pal. Who, old Sir Moath ?

Lad. Hee keeps off all her Suitors, keepes the portion,
Still in his hands : and will not part with all,
5 On any termes. Pal. Hinc illae lachrymae ;
Thence flowes the cause o' the maine grievance. Rut.

That Is a maine one! how much is the portion ? Lad. No petty summe. Pal. But sixteene thousand

pound. Rut. He should be forc'd, Madam, to lay it downe. 10 When is it payable ? Lad. When she is married. Pal. Marry her, marry her, Madam. Rut. Get her

married. Loose not a day, an houre- Pal. Not a minute. Pursue your project reall. Mr. Compasse,

Advis'd you, too. He is the perfect Instrument, 15 Your Ladiship should saile by. Rut. Now, Mr. Compasse Is a fine witty inan; I saw him goe in, now. Lad. Is hee gone in ? Pal. Yes, and a Fether with

him, He seemes a Souldier. Rut. Some new Sutor, Madam.

Lad. I am beholden to him : hee brings ever 20 Variety of good persons to my table, And I must thanke him, though my brother Interest Dislike of it a little. Pal. Hee likes nothing That runs your way. Rut. Troth, and the other cares

not. Hee'll goe his owne way, if he thinke it right.

Act . . . Rut.] om. G [Iron. and Com. go into the house. G 15 Now,] om. G

30

Lad. Hee's a true friend! and ther's Mr. Practise, 25 The fine young man of Law comes to the house : My brother brooks him not, because he thinkes He is by me assigned for my Neice : Hee will not heare of it. Rut. Not of that eare ; But yet your Ladiship doth wisely in it-

Pal. 'Twill make him to lay downe the portion sooner, If he but dreame you'l match her with a Lawyer.

Lad. So Mr. Compalle sayes. It is betweene The Lawyer, and the Courtier, which shall have her. Bal. Who, Sir Diaphanous Silke-worme ? Rut. A 35

fine Gentle-man
Old Mr. Silke-wormes Heire. Pal. And a neat Courtier,
Of a most elegant thred. Lad. And so my Gossip
Polish assures me. Here she comes ! good Polish
Welcome in troth! How do'st thou gentle Polish ?
Rut. Who's this ? Pal. Dame Polish, her shee- 40

Parasite,
Her talking, soothing, sometime governing Gossip.

Act I. Scene IV.

writ, and Docind Mr. Compa it be long.

5

Polish, Lady, Palate, Rut. Pal. Your Ladiship is still the Lady Loadstone That drawes, and drawes unto you, Guests of all sorts : The Courtiers, and the Souldiers, and the Schollers, The Travelleis, Physicians, and Divines, As Doctor Ridley writ, and Doctor Barlow ? They both have wrote of you, and Mr. Compasse. Lad. Wee meane, they shall write more, ere it be long.

Pol. Alas, they are both dead, and 't please you ; But, Your Ladiship meanes well, and shall meane well,

35 Bal.] Pal. 1692, f 38 comes !] Enter mistress Polish. G 40 this ?] Aside to Palate. G Act ... Rut.] om. G

10 So long as I live. How does your fine Neice ?
My charge, Mistris Placentia Steele ?
Lad. Shee is not well. Pol. Not well ? Lad. Her

Doctor sayes so.
Rut. Not very well; shee cannot shoot at Buts.
Or manage a great Horse, but shee can cranch
15 A lack of small coale ! eat you lime, and haire,

Soap-ashes, Loame, and has a dainty spice
O'the greene sicknesse! Pol. 'Od sheild! Rut. Or

the Droplie!
A toy, a thing of nothing. But my Lady, here

Her noble Aunt. Pol. Shee is a noble Aunt ! 20 And a right worshipfull Lady, and a vertuous; I know it well; Rut. Well, if you know it, peace.

Pal. Good sister Polish heare your betters (peake.

Pol. Sir I will speake, with my good Ladies leave, And speake, and speake againe ; I did bring up 25 My Ladies Neice, Mrs. Placentia Steele,

With my owne Daughter (who's Placentia too)
And waits upon my Lady, is her woman :
Her Ladiship well knowes Mrs. Placentia

Steele (as I faid) her curious Neice, was left 30 A Legacie to me; by Father, and Mother

With the Nurse, Keepe, that tended her: her Mother
Shee died in Child-bed of her and her Father
Liv'd not long after : for he lov’d her Mother!

They were a godly couple ! yet both di'd,
35 (As wee must all.) No creature is immortall;

I have heard our Pastor say: no, not the faithful !
And they did die (as I said) both in one moneth.
Rut. Sure shee is not long liv'd, if she spend breath

thus. Pol. And did bequeath her, to my care, and hand, 40 To polish, and bring up. I moulded her,

And fashion'd her, and form'd her; she had the sweat

Both of my browes and braines. My Lady knowes it
Since she could write a quarter old. Lad. I know not
That she write so early, my good Gossip.
But I doe know she was so long your care,
Till she was twelve yeare old ; that I call'd for her,
And tooke her home, for which I thanke you Polish,
And am beholden to you. Rut. I fure thought
She had a Lease of talking, for nine lives-
Pal. It may be she has. Pol. Sir fixteene thousand so

pound
Was then her portion ! for she was, indeed,
Their only child! and this was to be paid
Vpon her marriage, so she married still
With my good Ladies liking here, her Aunt:
(I heard the Will read) Mr. Steele her father,
The world condemn'd him to be very rich,
And very hard, and he did stand condemn'd
With that vaine world, till, as 'twas 'prov'd, after,
He left almost as much more to good uses
In Sir Moath Interests hands, my Ladies brother,
Whose sister he had married : He holds all
In his close gripe. But Mr. Steele, was liberall,
And a fine man; and she a dainty Dame,
And a religious, and a bountifull-

55

Act I. Scene V.

To them.

Compalle, Ironside.
You knew her Mr. Compasse ? Com. Spare the torture,
I doe confesse without it. Pol. And her husband,
What a fine couple they were? and how they liv'd ?

Com. Yes.

Act ... Ironside.] Enter Compass and Ironside from the house. G

Pol. And lov'd together, like a paire of Turtles ?

Com. Yes. 5 Pol. And feasted all the Neighbours ? Com. Take

her off Some body that hath mercy. Rut. O he knowes her, It seemes ! Com. Or any measure of compassion : Doctors, if you be Christians, undertake One for the soule, the other for the body! 10 Pol. She would dispute with the Doctors of Divinity

At her owne table ! and the Spitle Preachers !
And find out the Armenians. Rut. The Arminians ?

Pol. I lay the Armenians. Com. Nay, I say so too!

Pol. So Mr. Polish calld 'hem, the Armenians ! . 15 Com. And Medes, and Persians, did he not ? Pol.

Yes, he knew 'hem, And so did Mistris Steele! she was his Pupill! The Armenians, he would say, were worse then Papists ! And then the Persians, were our Puritanes, Had the fine piercing wits ! Com. And who, the Medes ? 20 Pol. The midle men, the Luke-warme Protestans ? Rut. Out, out. Pol. Sir she would find them by

their branching : Their branching sleeves, brancht cassocks, and brancht

doctrine, Beside their Texts. Rut. Stint Karlin : Ile not heare,

Confute her Parson. Pol. I respect no Persons, 25 Chaplins, or Doctors, I will speake. Lad. Yes, so't be

reason.
Let her. Rut. Death, she cannot speake reason.

Com. Nor sense, if we be Masters of our senses !
Iro. What mad woman ha' they got, here, to bate ?
Pol. Sir I am mad, in truth, and to the purpose;

Ar