[SCENE 2.]

Enter Device, Sister.

Sis. Ist possible you can talke thus and be no travailer?

De. I have traveld in my fancie, Ladie, and with the Muses, and do for my recreation of witt compose some wonders in verse, poeticall essaies, as once upon the report of a heate that was in Egipt.

Sis. Lets heare 'em.

De. In Countreys I have been Under the Equinoctiall, where I have seene The Sunne disperse such a prodigious heat That made our sive-like skins to raine with sweat. Men would have given for an Ecclipse their lives, Or one whisper of Aire; yet each man strives To throw up grasse, feathers, nay women, too, To find the wind: all falls like lead, none blew. The Dogstarre spits new fire till't came to passe Each eye became his neighbours burning glasse. Leane men did burne to ashes presentlie, Fatt men did wast to leane Anatomye; Young womens heat did gett themselves with child, For none but they themselves themselves defild; Old women naturally to witches turne, And onely rubbing one another burne. The beasts were bak'd, skin turnd to crust, they say, And fishes in the River boild away. Birds in the aire were rosted and not burn'd, For, as they fell downe, all the way they turn'd.

Sis. Most excellent!

De. I have seene Larkes in that motion at fire With an Engine of packthread perpendicular.

Sis. What would they have given for a shower in those Cuntries?

De. Now you talke of a Shower you shall heare Another coppie of Verses that I made Of a mighty raine which fell once in the Indies.

Sis. That you made? If you will venture your lungs let me heare more impossible stories to passe away the tyme.

_De. Heaven did not weepe, but in its swelling eye Whole Seas of Rhume and moist Catarrs did lie, Which so bespauld the lower world, men see Corne blasted and the fruit of every tree; Aire was condenst to water gainst their wish, And all their foule was turn'd to flying Fish; Like watermen they throng'd to ply a fare, As though it had been navigable Aire. Beasts lost the naturall motion of each limbe, Forgott to goe with practiseing to swime: A trout now here you would not thinke how soone Taken and drest for th'Emperour o'the Moone, The fixed Starres, though to our eyes were missing Wee knew yet were by their continuall hissing. Weomen were mermaides sailing with the wind, The greatest miracle was fish behind: But men were all kept chast against their wish, And could comitt but the cold sin of fish.

Sis. And that synne would puzzle all the Civell Lawyers in the kingdome. Sinns of the flesh they are perfect in; they know well enough what belongs to Adultery and simple fornication, but you would much improve and oblige the practise of the Court, if you could bring this sinne of fish under the Commission. But now, I hope, the raine is over we shall have faire weather.

De. Now I can tell you, Lady, what a strange frost was in one part of the world—

Sis. I shall cry out fire if you doe; I had rather have some discourse to keepe me warm still.

De. Or how the whole world was troubled with the wind Collick.

Sis. No more Earthquakes, I beseech you. Some frends of myne lost a great deale of land the last terme, and for ought I know tis never like to be recover'd. Why, all these verses you have honourd me to heare were translated out of French.

De. You say very right, Lady.

Sis. No, no; they are out of Spanish, as I remember.

De. I thinke it be out of Spanish, indeed.

Sis. Or else the Italian.

De. Troth, I know not which very well.

Sis. And yet you made 'em! Some gentlemen have the faculty to make verses and forgett what language was the Originall: tis Alamode, I confesse, sir.

De. Thers the mischiefe in poetry: a man might have told 200 lies in prose upon his owne name, and never miscaried.—But, leaving these rude rymes, Ladie, how do you like the novice that Sir Richard comended.

Sis. Mr. Courtwell?

De. Is he not a pretty Chrisome[249]? I could not choose but laugh to observe in what rurall deportment he came to salute you, that should have made his address in theis postures.

Sis. Tis enough, sir; I apprehend what you would doe. The truth is, touching that thing in black, I doe not love him.

De. I know't; tis impossible.

Sis. Why is't impossible? The man's a pretty indifferent meaning man, but I must have one of a more active spiritt. No, no, the man's a Coward.

De. He lookes like one.

Sis. I put him to't, he dares not fight; and he that expects my favour to so high a degree as marriage must be none of my lord Maiors whifflers[250]; he must be valiant in Armes. I am not taken with a ring or Caskanet, as some avaritious Ladies; he that presents me with the sword of his rivall is more welcome then all the silken soft natur'd six hundreds a yeere, that will be baffeld in their best clothes and goe downe into the Country every Vacacon like Atturneys to be beaten against next terme and get damage by it, but I forget some affaires that concerne me. I take my leave. Your deserts upon me are eminent and many, and for all your noble services I—will promise you nothing: you apprehend me?

De. O, sweet Lady, tis too much.

Sis. I am so weary I can stay no longer w'ee. [Exit.

De. You make mee over happie.—So, so; the matters done. I may write my friends. Hum: well thought upon! I shall leave her joyes without any bound to entertaine me if I first beat this foolish rivall of mine and present her with his sword. She assures me he dares not fight: it shall be so. Thus with one baffling and disarming him I shall secure my Mistresse and get the reputation of a fighting Cavallier, which may save me many a knock hereafter among men of strong faith that shall heare how much honour I have elsewhere taken upon the ticket.