Act 1 — SCENE II.—A Chapel.

Enter Alonzo, Theodosia, Jacintha, Beatrix, other Ladies, and Cavaliers at their devotions.

Alon. By that time you have told your beads, I'll be again with you. [Exit.

Jac. Do you think the Englishmen will come after us?

Beat. Do you think they can stay from you?

Jac. For my part, I feel a certain qualm upon my heart, which makes me believe I am breeding love to one of them.

Theo. How, love, Jacintha! in so short a time? Cupid's arrow was well feathered, to reach you so suddenly.

Jac. Faith, as good at first as at last, sister; 'tis a thing that must be done, and therefore 'tis best dispatching it out o'the way.

Theo. But you do not mean to tell him so, whom you love?

Jac. Why should I keep myself and servant in pain, for that which may be cured at a day's warning?

Beat. My lady tells you true, madam; long tedious courtship may be proper for cold countries, where their frosts are long a thawing; but, heaven be praised, we live in a warm climate.

Theo. The truth is, in other countries they have opportunities of courtship, which we have not; they are not mewed up with double locks and grated windows; but may receive addresses at their leisure.

Jac. But our love here is like our grass; if it be not mowed quickly, 'tis burnt up.

Enter Bellamy, Wildblood, and Maskall: They look about them.

Theo. Yonder are your gallants; send you comfort of them: I am for my devotions.

Jac. Now for my heart can I think of no other prayer, but only that they may not mistake us. Why, sister, sister, will you pray? What injury have I ever done you, that you should pray in my company? If your servant Don Melchor were here, we should have you mind heaven as little as the best of us.

Beat. They are at a loss, madam; shall I put up my veil, that they may take aim?

Jac. No, let them take their fortune in the dark: We shall see what archers these English are.

Bel. Which are they, think'st thou?

Wild. There's no knowing them, they are all children of darkness.

Bel. I'll be sworn they have one sign of godliness among them, there's no distinction of persons here.

Wild. Pox o'this blind-man's-buff; they may be ashamed to provoke a man thus, by their keeping themselves so close.

Bel. You are for the youngest, you say; 'tis the eldest has smitten me. And here I fix; if I am right, happy man be his dole. [By Theodosia.

Wild. I'll take my fortune here. [By Jacintha. Madam, I hope a stranger may take the liberty, without offence, to offer his devotions by you?

Jac. That, sir, would interrupt mine, without being any advantage to your own.

Wild. My advantage, madam, is very evident; for the kind saint, to whom you pray, may, by the neighbourhood, mistake my devotions for yours.

Jac. O, sir! our saints can better distinguish between the prayers of a Catholic and a Lutheran.

Wild. I beseech you, madam, trouble not yourself for my religion; for, though I am a heretic to the men of your country, to your ladies I am a very zealous Catholic; and for fornication and adultery, I assure you I hold with both churches.

Theo. to Bel. Sir, if you will not be more devout, be at least more civil; you see you are observed.

Bel. And pray, madam, what do you think the lookers on imagine I am employed about?

Theo. I will not trouble myself to guess.

Bel. Why, by all circumstances, they must conclude that I am making love to you; and, methinks, it were scarce civil to give the opinion of so much good company the lie.

Theo. If this were true, you would have little reason to thank them for their divination.

Bel. Meaning, I should not be loved again?

Theo. You have interpreted my riddle, and may take it for your pains.

Enter Alonzo, and goes apart to his devotion.

Beat. Madam, your father is returned.

Bel. She has nettled me; would, I could be revenged on her!

Wild. Do you see their father? Let us make as though we talked to one another, that we may not be suspected.

Beat. You have lost your Englishmen.

Jac. No, no, 'tis but design, I warrant you: You shall see these island cocks wheel about immediately. [The English gather up close to them.

Beat. Perhaps they thought they were observed.

Wild. to Bel. Talk not of our country ladies: I declare myself for the Spanish beauties.

Bel. Pr'ythee, tell me what thou canst find to doat on in these Castilians?

Wild. Their wit and beauty.

Theo. Now for our champion, St Jago, for Spain.

Bel. Faith, I can speak no such miracles of either; for their beauty, 'tis much as the Moors left it; not altogether so deep a black as the true Ethiopian; a kind of beauty that is too civil to the lookers-on to do them any mischief.

Jac. This was your frowardness, that provoked him, sister.

Theo. But they shall not carry it off so.

Bel. As for their wit, you may judge it by their breeding, which is commonly in a nunnery; where the want of mankind, while they are there, makes them value the blessing ever after.

Theo. Pr'ythee, dear Jacintha, tell me, what kind of creatures were those we saw yesterday at the audience? Those, I mean, that looked so like Frenchmen in their habits, but only became their apishness so much worse.

Jac. Englishmen, I think, they called them.

Theo. Cry you mercy; they were of your wild English, indeed; that is, a kind of northern beast, that is taught its feats of activity in Monsieurland; and, for doing them too lubberly, is laughed at all the world over.

Bel. Wildblood, I perceive the women understand little of discourse; their gallants do not use them to it: They get upon their jennets, and prance before their ladies' windows; there the palfrey curvets and bounds, and, in short, entertains them for his master.

Wild. And this horseplay they call making love.

Beat. Your father, madam——

Alon. Daughters! what cavaliers are those which were talking by you?

Jac. Englishmen, I believe, sir, at their devotions.—Cavalier, would you would try to pray a little better than you have rallied. [Aside to Wild.

Wild. Hang me if I put all my devotions out of order for you: I remember I prayed but on Tuesday last, and my time comes not till Tuesday next.

Mask. You had as good pray, sir: she will not stir till you have: Say any thing.

Wild. Fair lady, though I am not worthy of the least of your favours, yet give me the happiness this evening to see you at your father's door, that I may acquaint you with part of my sufferings. [Aside to Jac.

Alon. Come, daughters, have you done?

Jac. Immediately, sir.—Cavalier, I will not fail to be there at the time appointed, if it be but to teach you more wit, henceforward, than to engage your heart so lightly. [Aside to Wild.

Wild. I have engaged my heart with so much zeal and true devotion to your divine beauty, that——

Alon. What means this cavalier?

Jac. Some zealous ejaculation.

Alan. May the saint hear him!

Jac. I'll answer for her. [Exeunt Father and Daughters.

Wild. Now, Bellamy, what success?

Bel. I prayed to a more marble saint than that was in the shrine; but you, it seems, have been successful.

Wild. And so shalt thou; let me alone for both.

Bel. If you'll undertake it, I'll make bold to indulge my love, and within these two hours be a desperate inamorato. I feel I am coming apace to it.

Wild. Faith, I can love at any time with a wish, at my rate: I give my heart according to the old law of pawns, to be returned me before sunset.

Bel. I love only that I may keep my heart warm; for a man's a pool, if love stir him not; and to bring it to that pass, I first resolve whom to love, and presently after imagine I am in love: for a strong imagination is required in a lover as much as in a witch.

Wild. And is this all your receipt?

Bel. These are my principal ingredients; as for piques, jealousies, duels, daggers, and halters, I let them alone to the vulgar.

Wild. Pr'ythee, let's round the street a little; till Maskall watches for their woman.