THE TRAGEDY OF VALENTINIAN.

Bal. I Never saw the like, she's no more stirr'd, No more another Woman, no more alter'd With any hopes or promises laid to her (Let 'em be ne're so weighty, ne're so winning) Than I am with the motion of mine own legs. Pro. Chilax, You are a stranger yet in these designs, At least in Rome; tell me, and tell me truth, Did you ere know in all your course of practice, In all the wayes of Women you have run through (For I presume you have been brought up Chilax, As we to fetch and carry.) Chi. True I have so. Pro. Did you I say again in all this progress, Ever discover such a piece of beauty, Ever so rare a Creature, and no doubt One that must know her worth too, and affect it, I and be flatter'd, else 'tis none: and honest? Honest against the tide of all temptations, Honest to one man, to her Husband only, And yet not eighteen, not of age to know Why she is honest? Chi. I confess it freely, I never saw her fellow, nor e're shall, For all our Grecian Dames, all I have tri'd, (And sure I have tri'd a hundred, if I say two I speak within my compass) all these beauties, And all the constancy of all these faces, Maids, Widows, Wives, of what degree or calling, So they be Greeks, and fat, for there's my cunning, I would undertake and not sweat for't, Proculus, Were they to try again, say twice as many, Under a thousand pound, to lay 'em bedrid; But this Wench staggers me. Lyc. Do you see these Jewels? You would think these pretty baits; now I'le assure ye Here's half the wealth of Asia. Bal. These are nothing To the full honours I propounded to her; I bid her think, and be, and presently What ever her ambition, what the Counsel Of others would add to her, what her dreams Could more enlarge, what any President Of any Woman rising up to glory, And standing certain there, and in the highest, Could give her more, nay to be Empress. Pro. And cold at all these offers? Bal. Cold as Crystal, Never to be thaw'd again. Chi. I tri'd her further, And so far, that I think she is no Woman, At least as Women go now. Lyc. Why what did you? Chi. I offered that, that had she been but Mistris Of as much spleen as Doves have, I had reach'd her; A safe revenge of all that ever hates her, The crying down for ever of all beauties That may be thought come near her. Pro. That was pretty. Chi. I never knew that way fail, yet I'le tell ye I offer'd her a gift beyond all yours, That, that had made a Saint start, well consider'd, The Law to be her creature, she to make it, Her mouth to give it, every creature living From her aspect, to draw their good or evil Fix'd in 'em spight of Fortune; a new Nature She should be called, and Mother of all ages, Time should be hers, and what she did, lame vertue Should bless to all posterities: her Air Should give us life, her earth and water feed us. And last, to none but to the Emperour, (And then but when she pleas'd to have it so) She should be held for mortal. Lyc. And she heard you? Chi. Yes, as a Sick man hears a noise, or he That stands condemn'd his judgment, let me perish, But if there can be vertue, if that name Be any thing but name and empty title, If it be so as fools have been pleas'd to feign it, A power that can preserve us after ashes, And make the names of men out-reckon ages, This Woman has a God of vertue in her. Bal. I would the Emperor were that God. Chi. She has in her All the contempt of glory and vain seeming Of all the Stoicks, all the truth of Christians, And all their Constancy: Modesty was made When she was first intended: when she blushes It is the holiest thing to look upon; The purest temple of her sect, that ever Made Nature a blest Founder. Pro. Is there no way To take this Phenix? Lyc. None but in her ashes. Chi. If she were fat, or any way inclining To ease or pleasure, or affected glory, Proud to be seen and worship'd, 'twere a venture; But on my soul she is chaster than cold Camphire. Bal. I think so too; for all the waies of Woman, Like a full sail she bears against: I askt her After my many offers walking with her, And her as many down-denyals, how If the Emperour grown mad with love should force her; She pointed to a Lucrece, that hung by, And with an angry look, that from her eyes Shot Vestal fire against me, she departed. Pro. This is the first wench I was ever pos'd in, Yet I have brought young loving things together This two and thirty years. Chi. I find by this wench The calling of a Bawd to be a strange, A wise, and subtile calling; and for none But staid, discreet, and understanding people: And as the Tutor to great Alexander, Would say, a young man should not dare to read His moral books, till after five and twenty; So must that he or she, that will be bawdy, (I mean discreetly bawdy, and be trusted) If they will rise, and gain experience, Well steept in years, and discipline, begin it, I take it 'tis no Boys play. Bal. Well, what's thought of? Pro. The Emperour must know it. Lyc. If the woman should chance to fail too. Chi. As 'tis ten to one. Pro. Why what remains, but new nets for the purchase? Chi. Let's go consider then: and if all fail, This is the first quick Eele, that sav'd her tail. [Exeunt.