Act 4 — SCENE III.
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Enter Timothy fantastically dressed, and a Footman.
Plot. Here he comes! Tim. Sirrah, wait me in the hall, And let your feet stink there: your air's not fit To be endured by ladies. Plot. What! quarrel with your footman, sir? Tim. Hang him, he casts a scent That drowns my perfumes, and is strong enough To cure the mother of palsy. Do I act A knight well? Plot. This imperiousness becomes you, Like a knight newly dubb'd, sir. Tim. What says the lady? Plot. Speak lower. I have prepar'd her; show yourself A courtier: now she's yours! Tim. If that be all, I'll court her as if some courtier had begot me I' th' gallery at a masque. Plot. Madam, this gentleman Desires to kiss your hands. Tim. And lips too, lady. Aur. Sir, you much honour both. Tim. I know that, Else I'd not kiss you. Yesterday I was In company with ladies, and they all Long'd to be touch'd by me. Aur. You cannot cure The evil, sir; nor have your lips the virtue To restore ruins, or make old ladies young? Tim. Faith, all the virtue that they have is, that My lips are knighted. I am born, sweet lady, To a poor fortune, that will keep myself And footman, as you see, to bear my sword In cuerpo[245] after me. I can at court, If I would, show my gilt[246] i' th' presence; look After the rate of some five thousands Yearly in old rents; and, were my father once Well wrapp'd in sear-cloth, I could fine for sheriff. Plot. Heart! you spoil all. [Aside. Tim. Why? Plot. She verily believ'd y' had ne'er a father. [Aside. Aur. Lives your father then, sir? That gentleman told me he was dead. Tim. 'Tis true, I had forgot myself: he was drowned, lady, This morning, as he went to take possession Of a summer-house and land in the Canaries. Plot. Now y' have recovered all. Tim. D' you think I have Not wit enough to lie? [Aside. Plot. Break your mind to her; She does expect it. Tim. But, lady, this is not The business which I came for. Aur. I'm at leisure To hear your business, sir. Plot. Mark that! Tim. Indeed, Sweet lady, I've a motion which was once Or twice this morning in my mouth, and then Slipp'd back again for fear. Aur. Cowards ne'er won Ladies or forts, sir. Tim. Say then I should feel Some motions, lady, of affection, might A man repair Paul's with his heart, or put it Into a tinder-box? Aur. How mean you, sir? Tim. Why, is your heart a stone or flint? Aur. Be plain, sir, I understand you not. Tim. Not understand me? Y'are the [first] lady that e'er put a man To speak plain English: some would understand Riddles and signs. Say, I should love you, lady! Aur. There should be no love lost, sir. Tim. Say you so? Then, by this air, my teeth e'en water at you: I long to have some offspring by you. We Shall have an excellent breed of wits: I mean my youngest son shall be a poet; and My daughters, like their mother, every one A wench o' th' game. And for my eldest son, He shall be like me, and inherit. Therefore Let's not defer our joys, but go to bed And multiply. Aur. Soft, sir, the priest must first Discharge his office. I do not[247] mean to marry,
Enter Dorcas out of her Puritan dress.
Like ladies in New England, where they couple With no more ceremony than birds choose their mate Upon St Valentine's day. Dor. Madam, the preacher Is sent for to a churching, and doth ask If you be ready: he shall lose, he says, His chrysome[248] else. Aur. O miracle! out of Your little ruff, Dorcas, and in the fashion! Dost thou hope to be saved? Dor. Pray, madam, do not Abuse me; I will tell you more anon. Plot. Tell him she's coming. Aur. Sir, please you, partake Of a slight banquet? [Exit Dorcas. Plot. Just as you are sat, I'll steal the priest in. Tim. Do. Plot. When you are join'd, Be sure you do not oversee, but straight Retire to bed: she'll follow. 'Tis not three o'clock i' th' afternoon. Tim. 'Tis but drawing Your curtains, and you do create your night. All times to lovers and new-married folks May be made dark. Tim. I will, then. By this room, She's a rare lady! I do almost wish I could change sex, and that she might beget Children on me. Plot. Nay, will you enter? Tim. Lady, Pray, will you show the way? Plot. Most city-like! 'Slid, take her by the arm, and lead her in. Tim. Your arm, sweet lady. [Exeunt.