Siege, The: Or, Love's Convert, A Tragi-Comedy - Act 4. Scene 2


Pyle , and Prusias .

Pyl . You have no hopes then to be King?
Pru . My Title
Is but infirm to th' Crown, All the bloud Royall
That I have in me came by sucking of
His Majesties finger when he cut it once.
But for Nobility I've all the Signs of 't.
Pyl . You rate your looks, perhaps, have faces of
All prizes, pay your debts with Countenance:
Put off your Mercer with your Fee-buck for
That season, and so forth; and then you write
Your Name in Characters that must be sent
About to the Professors, to discover
What Language they belong to: All, I take it,
Most certain Symptoms that y' are sick of Greatness.
Pru . I count your Judgment, Lady, most Authentick.
Pyl . Next, you are poor and needy, having been
So long a Courtier; you do spend your Pension
In oyntment for your Beard; by which cost when
You are arriv'd at th' easie Chambermaid,
You task your sharp Invention, to find out
A passage to her Lady, with as much
Care and Anxiety, as another would
To find a way beyond th' Herculean Pillars.
Prus . Your Ladiship, though young, speaks like a Sibyll.
Pyl . that you may see I cannot Prophesie,
I must demand a subtle question of you.
What was the time that you began to love in?
Prus . My Love's Eternall; it did ne'r begin:
Tis not a thing subject to Generation.
Pyl . I do not like it then.
Prus . I know, and 't please you,
The very instant; June the thirty one,
The Sun in's Apogaeum , Moon in Libra ,
First Quartile, Minutes twenty three, two Seconds,
Late in the Afternoon.
Pyl . What? you'r a Scholar.
Prus . My Scholarship is at your service, Lady.
I'l make fine Anagrams upon your Name,
Or on your Dogg's; I'l give you a True-Love's Knot
In endlesse Verse; ask Questions of my Lute
In a most melting Tone, and make that ask
Questions of me again, and all in Honour
To your fair Self.
Pyl . I've vow'd against all Scholars,
They ne'r come near to Kings, but when they have
A sullen fit o' Philosophy come upon 'em,.
Prus . I hate a Scholar, I protest, as I
Do the sharp Visage of my craving Taylor
At Quarter-day: that which I spoke ev'n now,
I conn'd out of an Almanack; I'm only
A Philomath , sweet Lady.
Pyl . I am all
For deeds of Prowesse.
Prus . Now you come to me.
Pyl . What Squadrons do you lead besides your Creditors?
What Troups, but eager and despairing Tradesmen?
How many Towns, pray y', are you wont to take
'Twixt first and second Course? What Castles do y'
Demolish, besides Pye-crusts? What great Breaches
Do y' make, and sally in, whiles that you pick
Your Ebony Teeth? then when you have bely'd
Old Captive Matrons suing t'y', how many
Young tender Virgins do you there deflowre
In eating of the other slice of Marmalad?
Prus . Your Ladiship hath a good grace in Mirth;
Your Jests do wear as new a dresse, as any.
I had a Feather quite struck off my Helmet
I'th' Tilt-yard once. Sweetest of Ladyes, speak,
Hath any one abus'd you?
Pyl . Yes, the King:
Dare you assault him?
Prus . For a world I would not
Offer to violate his Sacred Body,
Who is intended for your Loyall Husband.
Pyl . There are a brace of Captains here i'th' City,
Your Fellow-Hostages; I've suffer'd wrong
From them too, they'r below the Throne I'm sure.
Prus . In Words, or Deeds?
Pyl . Only in Words, that's all?
Prus . Fare-you-well Lady, they shall hear of it.
I'l go and rayl at 'em most heartily.
Pyl . I do beleeve your heart is in your Mouth,
Both wayes. If that I misse not of mine Aym,
You, and the Bumbast Captains shall be try'd.
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