A Collection of Old English Plays, Vol. III | Page 9

so plyant, that we
will drawe her thorugh a wedding ring yfaith.
Cla. Would to God we might, my Lord.
Mom. He warrant thee, friend.
Enter Messenger.
Mes. Here is Mistris Wynnifred from my Lady Eugenia desires to
speake with your Lordshippe.
Mom. Marrie, enter, Mistris _Wynnifred_, even here I pray thee;--from
the Lady _Eugenia_, doe you heare, friend?
Cla. Very easily on that side, my Lord.
Mom. Let me feele. Does not thy heart pant apace? by my hart, well
labor'd _Cupid_, the field is yours, sir. God! and upon a very

honourable composition. I am sent for now I am sure, and must even
trusse, and to her.
Enter Wynnifred.
Witty Mistris _Wynnifred_, nay come neere, woman. I am sure this
Gentleman thinkes his Chamber the sweeter for your deare presence.
Wyn. My absence shall thanke him, my Lord.
Mom. What, rude? Mistris _Wynnifred_? nay faith you shall come to
him, and kisse him, for his kindenesse.
Wyn. Nay good, my Lord, I'le never goe to the market for that ware, I
can have it brought home to my Dore.
Mom. O _Wynnifred_, a man may know by the market-folkes how the
market goes.
Wyn. So you may, my Lord, but I know few Lords that thinke scorne to
go to that market themselves.
Mom. To goe to it _Wynnifred_? nay to ride to it yfaith.
Wyn. Thats more then I know my Lord.
Mom. Youle not beleeve it till you are then a horsebacke, will ye?
Wyn. Come, come, I am sent of a message to you, will you heare it?
Mom. Stoppe, stoppe, faire _Wynnifred_, would you have audience so
soone, there were no state in that yfaith. This faire gentlewoman sir--
Wyn. Now we shall have a fiction I beleive.
Mom. Had three Suiters at once.
Wyn. Youle leave out none my Lord.

Mom. No more did you, _Wynnifred_: you enterferde with them all in
truth.
Wyn. O Monstrous Lord by this light!
Mom. Now sir to make my tale short I will doe that which she did not;
vz. leave out the two first. The third comming, the third night for his
turne--
Wyn. My Lord, my Lord, my Lady does that that no body else does,
desires your company; and so fare you well.
Mom. O stay a little sweet _Wynnifred_, helpe me but to trusse my
Poynts againe, and have with you.
Wyn. Not I by my truth my Lord, I had rather see your hose about your
heeles, then I would helpe you to trusse a poynt.
Mom. O witty _Wynnifred_? for that jest, take thy passeport, and tell
thy Ladie[14], thou leftst me with my hose about my heeles.
Wyn. Well, well my Lord you shall sit till the mosse grow about your
heeles, ere I come at you againe. [Exit.
Mom. She cannot abide to heare of her three Suiters, but is not this very
fit my sweet _Clarence_? Thou seest my rare Neece cannot sleepe
without me; but for thy company sake, she shall to night; and in the
morning I will visit her earely; when doe thou but stand in that place,
and thou maiest chance heare (but art sure to see) in what subtill, and
farre-fetcht manner Ile solicite her about thee.
Cla. Thank's, worthy Lord.
[Exeunt.
Finis Actus Primi.

Actvs Secvndi.
SCENA PRIMA.
Clarence Solus.
Cla. I that have studied with world-skorning thoughts The way of
Heaven, and how trew Heaven is reacht To know how mighty, and how
many are The strange affections of enchaunted number; How to
distinguish all the motions Of the Celestiall bodies, and what power
Doth separate in such forme this massive Rownd; What is his Essence,
Efficacies, Beames, Foot-steps, and Shadowes; what Eternesse[15] is,
The World, and Time, and Generation; What Soule, the worlds Soule is,
what the blacke Springs And unreveald Originall of Things, What their
perseverance; what's life, and death, And what our certaine
Restauration; Am with the staid-heads of this Time imploy'd To watch
with all my Nerves a Female shade.
_Enter Wynnifred, Anabell, with their sowing workes and sing: After
their song Enter Lord Momford_.
Mom. Witty Mistrisse _Wynnifred_, where is your Countesse, I pray?
Wyn. Faith your Lordship is bould enough to seeke her out, if she were
at her urinall?
Mom. Then sh'as done, it seemes, for here she comes to save me that
labour; away, wenches, get you hence wenches. [Exeunt.
Eu. What, can you not abide my maides, unkle?
Mom. I never cood abide a maide in my life Neece, but either I draw
away the maide, or the maidenhead with a wet finger[16].
Eug. You love to make your selfe worse then you are still.
Mom. I know few mend in this World, Madam. For the worse the better
thought on, the better