Ladies.
Eumen. Why this is Monstrous.
1 Capt. A strange forgetfulness, yet still he holds it.
2 Capt. Though he ne're saw a woman of great fashion
Before this day, yet methinks 'tis possible
He might imagine what they are, and what
Belongs unto 'em: meer report of others.
Eumen. Pish, his head had other whimsies in't: my Lord,
Death I think y'are struck dumb; my good Lord General.
1 Capt. Sir.
Mem. That I do love ye Madam; and so love ye
An't like your grace.
2 Capt. He has been studying this speech.
Eumen. Who do ye speak to Sir?
Mem. Why where's the Lady,
The woman, the fair woman?
1 Capt. Who?
Mem. The Princess,
Give me the Princess.
Eumen. Give ye counsel rather
To use her like a Princess: Fy my Lord,
How have you born your self, how nakedl[y]
Laid your soul open, and your ignorance
To be a sport to all. Report and honour
Drew her to doe you favours, and you bluntly,
Without considering what, or who she was,
Neither collecting reason, nor distinction.
Mem. Why, what did I my Masters?
Eumen. All that shews
A man unhandsom, undigested dough.
Mem. Did not I kneel unto her?
Eumen. Dumb and sensless,
As though ye had been cut out for your fathers tomb,
Or stuck a land-mark; when she spoke unto you,
Being the excellence of all our Island,
Ye star'd upon her, as ye had seen a monster.
Me[m]. Was I so foolish? I confess Eumenes,
I never saw before so brave an outside,
But did I kneel so long?
Eumen. Till they laught at ye,
And when you spoke I am asham'd to tell ye
What 'twas my Lord; how far from order;
Bless me, is't possible the wild noise of war
And what she only teaches should possess ye?
Knowledge to treat with her, and full discretion
Being at flood still in ye: and in peace,
And manly conversation smooth and civil,
Where gracefulness and glory twyn together,
Thrust your self out an exile?
Do you know Sir, what state she carries?
What great obedience waits at her beck continually?
Mem. She ne're commanded
A hundred thousand men, as I have done,
Nor ne're won battel; Say I would have kist her.
Eumen. There was a dainty offer too, a rare one.
Mem. Why, she is a woman, is she not?
Eumen. She is so.
Mem. Why, very well; what was she made for then?
Is she not young, and handsom, bred to breed?
Do not men kiss fair women? if they doe,
If lips be not unlawfull ware; Why a Princess
Is got the same way that we get a begger
Or I am cozen'd; and the self-same way
She must be handled e're she get another,
That's rudeness is it not?
2 Capt. To her 'tis held so, & rudeness in that high degree —
Mem. 'Tis reason,
But I will be more punctual; pray what thought she?
Eum. Her thoughts were merciful, but she laught at ye,
Pitying the poorness of your complement,
And so she left ye. Good Sir shape your self
To understand the place, and noble persons
You live with now.
1 Capt. Let not those great deserts
The King hath laid up of ye, and the people,
Be blasted with ill bearing.
Eume. The whole name of souldier then will suffer.
Mem. She's a sweet one,
And good sirs leave your exhortations,
They come untimely to me, I have brains
That beat above your reaches: She's a Princess,
That's all: I have killed a King, that's greater.
Come let's to dinner, if the Wine be good,
You shall perceive strange wisdom in my blood. [Exeunt all but Chilax.
Chil. Well, would thou wert i' the wars again
Old Memnon, there thou wouldst talk toth' purpose,
And the proudest of all these Court Camelions
Would be glad to find it sense too: pla[gu]e of this
Dead peace, this Bastard breeding, lowzie, lazie idleness,
Now we must learn to pipe, and pick our livings
Out of old rotten ends: these twenty five years
I have serv'd my Country, lost my youth and bloud,
Expos'd my life to dangers more than dayes;
Yet let me tell my wants, I know their answers,
The King is bound to right me, they good people
Have but from hand to mouth. Look to your wives
Your young trim wives, your high-day wives, your marchpanes,
For if the souldiers find not recompence,
As yet there's none a hatching; I believe
You men of wares, the men of wars will nick ye,
For starve nor beg they must not; my small means
Are gone in fumo: here to raise a better
Unless it be with lying, or Dog flattering,
At which our Nation's excellent; observing Dog-days,
When this good Lady broyles and would be basted
By that good Lord, or such like moral learnings,
Is here impossible; Well; I will rub among 'em
If any thing for honestie be gotten,
Though't be but bread and cheese I can be satisfied:
If otherwise the wind blow, stiff as I am
Yet I shall learn to shuffle: There's an old Lass
That shall