Siege, The: Or, Love's Convert, A Tragi-Comedy - Act 4. Scene 5

ACT . IV. S CEN. V.

To them Eudemus .

Pyl. Eudemus ! You are welcome; I forestall
Your business, you are come t' invite me to
Your Daughters Marriage.
Eud . Call it not her Marriage,
It is her Death, her Execution.
You'd make a fitter Queen by far than she.
Pyl . Nature, 'tis true, intended us for Queen;
And 'tis her wrong, not ours, that wee're neglected.
Eud . I'd willingly promote your Cause, if that
I knew but how; he hath done you more wrong
By his Refusall, than he hath my Daughter
By's Cruelty. I wonder you'r so slack:
Do you not dream of your Revenge? doth not
Your sleep each Night prompt you to right your Self?
And ev'n that prove watchfull?
Pyl . Alas! I
Have no Accesse; my Hate knows not to Reach him.
I might betray my Self by trying it.
Shewing an idle fruitlesse spight, and make
A Noise, not knowing where my sting might enter.
Eud . Will you assist me with your Secresie
And help, fair Pyle ?
Pyl . Any thing, Eudemus ,
Loving Eudemus , any thing.
Eud . You shall
Procure a trifle only, I'l apply it;
Somthing to kill a Rat, or some such Vermin.
Pyl . Now you do put m' in mind of such a thing,
I can most readily furnish you; you must
Be sure to give 't him e'r he go to th' Temple.
'Twill cast him in a sleep; as soon as ever
He doth begin to Nod (I'l be in readinesse)
You shall conduct me to him, that I may
See how it works, and if it been't enough,
I'l second it. Let not your Daughter be
About him for a World: Walk in with me,
And I'l instruct you further. Wait you there
Till I return Elpidia .
Elp . Lord, to see
How many Husband's one may have that's rich!
They do swarm hither with their Verses, like
Town-Poets on some Lord's Son's Wedding-day.
Their Visits do save Oyl, and make the door
Turn easie. She (God bless her) 's cloy'd with 'em.
I've wash'd my face in Mercury water, for
A year and upwards; lain in Oyl'd Gloves still;
Worn my Pomatum'd Masks all night; each morning
Rang'd every Hair in its due rank and Posture;
Laid red amongst the white; writ o'r my face,
And set it forth in a most fair Edition;
Worn a thin Tiffeny only o'r my Breasts;
Kept Musk-plums in my Mouth continually;
Yet have not had one bite at all these baits,
But a poor single-sol'd thin meager Footman,
One that I could see through. I think I shall
Be sav'd by my Virginity, whether
I will or no, and lead an Ape in Heav'n.
Here she comes now with one of her Fopperies.
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