Philaster | Page 8

courted in a showr of gold. Madam, look here, all these and more, than--
Gal. What have you there, my Lord? Gold? Now, as I live tis fair gold; you would have silver for it to play with the Pages; you could not have taken me in a worse time; But if you have present use my Lord, I'le send my man with silver and keep your gold for you.
Pha. Lady, Lady.
Gal. She's coming Sir behind, will take white mony. Yet for all this I'le match ye.
[Exit Gal. behind the hangings.
Pha. If there be two such more in this Kingdom, and near the Court, we may even hang up our Harps: ten such Camphire constitutions as this, would call the golden age again in question, and teach the old way for every ill fac't Husband to get his own Children, and what a mischief that will breed, let all consider.
[ Enter Megra.
Here's another; if she be of the same last, the Devil shall pluck her on. Many fair mornings, Lady.
Meg. As many mornings bring as many dayes, Fair, sweet, and hopeful to your Grace.
Pha. She gives good words yet; Sure this wench is free. If your more serious business do not call you, Let me hold quarter with you, we'll take an hour Out quickly.
Meg. What would your Grace talk of?
Pha. Of some such pretty subject as your self. I'le go no further than your eye, or lip, There's theme enough for one man for an age.
Meg. Sir, they stand right, and my lips are yet even, Smooth, young enough, ripe enough, red enough, Or my glass wrongs me.
Pha. O they are two twin'd Cherries died in blushes, Which those fair suns above, with their bright beams Reflect upon, and ripen: sweetest beauty, Bow down those branches, that the longing taste, Of the faint looker on, may meet those blessings, And taste and live.
Meg. O delicate sweet Prince; She that hath snow enough about her heart, To take the wanton spring of ten such lines off, May be a Nun without probation. Sir, you have in such neat poetry, gathered a kiss, That if I had but five lines of that number, Such pretty begging blanks, I should commend Your fore-head, or your cheeks, and kiss you too.
Pha. Do it in prose; you cannot miss it Madam.
Meg. I shall, I shall.
Pha. By my life you shall not. I'le prompt you first: Can you do it now?
Meg. Methinks 'tis easie, now I ha' don't before; But yet I should stick at it.
Pha. Stick till to morrow. I'le ne'r part you sweetest. But we lose time, Can you love me?
Meg. Love you my Lord? How would you have me love you?
Pha. I'le teach you in a short sentence, cause I will not load your memory, that is all; love me, and lie with me.
Meg. Was it lie with you that you said? 'Tis impossible.
Pha. Not to a willing mind, that will endeavour; if I do not teach you to do it as easily in one night, as you'l go to bed, I'le lose my Royal blood for't.
Meg. Why Prince, you have a Lady of your own, that yet wants teaching.
Pha. I'le sooner teach a Mare the old measures, than teach her any thing belonging to the function; she's afraid to lie with her self, if she have but any masculine imaginations about her; I know when we are married, I must ravish her.
Meg. By my honour, that's a foul fault indeed, but time and your good help will wear it out Sir.
Pha. And for any other I see, excepting your dear self, dearest Lady, I had rather be Sir _Tim _the Schoolmaster, and leap a Dairy-maid.
Meg. Has your Grace seen the Court-star _Galatea_?
Pha. Out upon her; she's as cold of her favour as an apoplex: she sail'd by but now.
Meg. And how do you hold her wit Sir?
Pha. I hold her wit? The strength of all the Guard cannot hold it, if they were tied to it, she would blow 'em out of the Kingdom, they talk of Jupiter, he's but a squib cracker to her: Look well about you, and you may find a tongue-bolt. But speak sweet Lady, shall I be freely welcome?
Meg. Whither?
Pha. To your bed; if you mistrust my faith, you do me the unnoblest wrong.
Meg. I dare not Prince, I dare not.
Pha. Make your own conditions, my purse shall seal 'em, and what you dare imagine you can want, I'le furnish you withal: give two hours to your thoughts every morning about it. Come, I know you are bashful, speak in my ear, will you be mine? keep this, and with it me: soon I will visit you.
Meg. My Lord, my Chamber's most unsafe, but when 'tis night I'le find some means to slip into your lodging: till