Tho.  Your good pleasure.

Lady.  What shall I doe?  I can no longer beare
This flame so mortall; I have wearid heaven
With my entreaties and shed teares enough
To extinguish Aetna, but, like water cast
On coales, they ad unto my former heate
A more outragious fervor.  I have tried
All modest meanes to give him notice of
My violent love, but he, more dull then earth,
Either conceives them not or else, possessd
With full affection of my daughter, scornes me.

Tho.  Madam, wilt please you to deliver your pleasure?

Lady. Thorowgood,
Not clouds of lightning, or the raging bolt
Heavens anger darts at the offending world,
Can with such horrid rigor peirce the earth
As these sad words I must demonstrate to you
Doe my afflicted brest.—­Ime lost; my tongue
When I would speake, like to an Isicle
Disturbd by motion of unruly winds
Shakes to pronounce’t, yet freezes to my roofe
Faster by th’agitation.

Tho.  Your full Judgment
Could not have found an apter instrument
For the performance of what you designe,
Then I experience how much any man
May become passive in obedience
To the intent of woman, in my truth. 
Set the abstrusest comment on my faith
Imagination can resolve, my study
Shall mak’t as easie as the plainest lines
Which hearty lovers write.

    Enter Timothy.

Tim.  Madam, this letter and his humble vowes From your deserving sonn.

Lady.  He writes me here he will be here tomorrow.  Where left you him?

Tim.  At your right worthy Cosens.

Lady.  What manner of man is this Mr. Thurston He brings with him?

Tim.  A most accomplishd gentleman.

Lady.  ’Tis well:  Mr. Thoroegood, Weele walke into the Gallery, and there Discourse the rest.

Tho.  I long till I receive the audience of it.

Tim.  Your ladiship will vouchsafe to meete The Gent[lemen] in your Coach some two miles hence?

Lady.  Ile thinke of it.

[Exeunt omnes.

(SCENE 2.)

    Enter Sucket and Crackby[61].

Suc_.  Come, deport your selfe with a more elated countenance:  a personage of your rare endowments so dejected! ’tis fitt for groomes, not men magnanimous, to be so bashfull:  speake boldly to them, that like cannon shott your breath may batter; you would hardly dare to take in townes and expugne fortresses, that cannot demolish a paltry woman.

Crac.  Pox of this Country, it has metamorphisd me.  Would I were in my native Citty ayre agen, within the wholesome smell of seacole:  the vapor[s] rising from the lands new dunged are more infectious to me then the common sewer ith sicknes time.  Ime certaine of my selfe Ime impudent enough and can dissemble as well as ere my Father did to gett his wealth, but this country has tane my edge of quite; but I begin to sound the reason of it.