Angellina, Daughter to Lewis. 
Sylvia, her Woman. 
Lilly, Wife to Andrew. 
Ladies.

LECTORI.

Wouldst thou all Wit, all Comick Art survey?  Read here and wonder; Fletcher writ the Play.

ACTUS PRIMUS.  SCENA PRIMA.

Enter Lewis, Angellina, and Sylvia.

Lewis. Nay, I must walk you farther.

Ang. I am tir’d, Sir, and ne’er shall foot it home.

Lew. ’Tis for your health; the want of exercise takes from your Beauties, and sloth dries up your sweetness:  That you are my only Daughter and my Heir, is granted; and you in thankfulness must needs acknowledge, you ever find me an indulgent Father, and open handed.

Ang. Nor can you tax me, Sir, I hope, for want of duty to deserve these favours from you.

Lew. No, my Angellina, I love and cherish thy obedience to me, which my care to advance thee shall confirm:  all that I aim at, is, to win thee from the practice of an idle foolish state, us’d by great Women, who think any labour (though in the service of themselves) a blemish to their fair fortunes.

Ang. Make me understand, Sir, what ’tis you point at.

Lew. At the custom, how Virgins of wealthy Families waste their youth; after a long sleep, when you wake, your Woman presents your Breakfast, then you sleep again, then rise, and being trimm’d up by other hands, y’are led to Dinner, and that ended, either to Cards or to your Couch, (as if you were born without motion) after this to Supper, and then to Bed:  and so your life runs round without variety or action, Daughter.

Syl. Here’s a learned Lecture!

Lew. Fro[m] this idleness, Diseases, both in body and in mind, grow strong upon you; where a stirring nature, with wholesome exercise, guards both from danger:  I’d have thee rise with the Sun, walk, dance, or hunt, visit the Groves and Springs, and learn the vertue of Plants and Simples:  Do this moderately, and thou shalt not, with eating Chalk, or Coles, Leather and Oatmeal, and such other trash, fall into the Green-sickness.

Syl. With your pardon (were you but pleas’d to minister it) I could prescribe a Remedy for my Lady’s health, and her delight too, far transcending those your Lordship but now mention’d.

Lew. What is it, Sylvia?

Syl. What is’t! a noble Husband; in that word, a noble Husband, all content of Woman is wholly comprehended; He will rouse her, as you say, with the Sun; and so pipe to her, as she will dance, ne’er doubt it; and hunt with her, upon occasion, until both be weary; and then the knowledge of your Plants and Simples, as I take it, were superfluous.  A loving, and, but add to it, a gamesome Bedfellow, being the sure Physician.

Lew.  Well said, Wench.

Ang.  And who gave you Commission to deliver your Verdict, Minion?