No More Learning

Ye Gods, that guard the innocent and guide
The weak, protect and take me to your care!
Oh, but I love him! there's the rock will wreck me
Why was I made with all my sex's softness,
Yet want the cunning to conceal its follies?
I'll see Castalio, tax him with his falsehoods,
Be a true woman, rail, protest my wrongs;
Resolve to hate him, and yet love him still.

_Re-enter_ CASTALIO _and_ POLYDORE.

He comes, the conqueror comes! lie still, my heart,
And learn to bear thy injuries with scorn.

_Cast. _ Madam, my brother begs he may have leave
To tell you something that concerns you nearly;
I leave you, as becomes me, and withdraw.

_Mon. _ My Lord Castalio!

_Cast. _ Madam!

_Mon. _ Have you purposed
To abuse me palpably? what means this usage?
Why am I left with Polydore alone?

_Cast. _ He best can tell you. Business of importance
Calls me away; I must attend my father.

_Mon. _ Will you then leave me thus?

_Cast. _ But for a moment.

_Mon. _ It has been otherwise; the time has been,
When business might have stayed, and I been heard.

_Cast. _ I could for ever hear thee; but this time
Matters of such odd circumstances press me,
That I must go. [_Exit. _

_Mon. _ Then go, and, if't be possible, for ever. --
Well, my Lord Polydore, I guess your business,
And read the ill-natured purpose in your eyes.

_Pol. _ If to desire you more than misers wealth,
Or dying men an hour of added life;
If softest wishes, and a heart more true
Than ever suffered yet for love disdained,
Speak an ill-nature, you accuse me justly.

_Mon_. Talk not of love, my lord; I must not hear it.

_Pol. _ Who can behold such beauty and be silent?
Desire first taught us words: man, when created,
At first alone, long wandered up and down,
Forlorn, and silent as his vassal-beasts;
But when a Heaven-born maid, like you, appeared,
Strange pleasures filled his eyes, and fired his heart,
Unloosed his tongue, and his first talk was love.

_Mon. _ The first-created pair, indeed, were blest;
They were the only objects of each other,
Therefore he courted her, and her alone;
But in this peopled world of beauty, where
There's roving room, where you may court, and ruin
A thousand more, why need you talk to me?

_Pol. _ Oh! I could talk to thee for ever; thus
Eternally admiring, fix and gaze
On those dear eyes; for every glance they send
Darts through my soul, and almost gives enjoyment.

_Mon. _ How can you labour thus for my undoing?
I must confess, indeed, I owe you more
Than ever I can hope or think to pay.
There always was a friendship 'twixt our families;
And therefore when my tender parents died,
Whose ruined fortunes too expired with them,
Your father's pity and his bounty took me,
A poor and helpless orphan, to his care.

_Pol. _ 'Twas Heaven ordained it so, to make me happy.
Hence with this peevish virtue! 'tis a cheat;
And those who taught it first were hypocrites.
Come, these soft tender limbs were made for yielding!

_Mon. _ Here on my knees, by Heaven's blest power I swear, [_Kneels. _
If you persist, I ne'er henceforth will see you,
But rather wander through the world a beggar,
And live on sordid scraps at proud men's doors;
For, though to fortune lost, I still inherit
My mother's virtues, and my father's honour.

_Pol. _ Intolerable vanity! your sex
Was never in the right; you're always false,
Or silly; even your dresses are not more
Fantastic than your appetites; you think
Of nothing twice; opinion you have none:
To-day you're nice, to-morrow not so free;
Now smile, then frown; now sorrowful, then glad;
Now pleased, now not; and all you know not why!
Virtue you affect, inconstancy's your practice;
And, when your loose desires once get dominion,
No hungry churl feeds coarser at a feast;
Every rank fool goes down--

_Mon. _ Indeed, my lord,
I own my sex's follies; I've them all,
And, to avoid its faults, must fly from you.
Therefore, believe me, could you raise me high
As most fantastic woman's wish could reach,
And lay all nature's riches at my feet,
I'd rather run a savage in the woods
Amongst brute beasts, grow wrinkled and deformed
As wildness and most rude neglect could make me,
So I might still enjoy my honour safe
From the destroying wiles of faithless men. [_Exit. _

_Pol. _ Who'd be that sordid foolish thing called man,
To cringe thus, fawn, and flatter for a pleasure,
Which beasts enjoy so very much above him?
The lusty bull ranges through all the field,
And, from the herd singling his female out,
Enjoys her, and abandons her at will.
It shall be so; I'll yet possess my love,
Wait on, and watch her loose unguarded hours;
Then, when her roving thoughts have been abroad,
And brought in wanton wishes to her heart,
In the very minute when her virtue nods,
I'll rush upon her in a storm of love,
Beat down her guard of honour all before me,
Surfeit on joys, till even desire grow sick;
Then by long absence liberty regain,
And quite forget the pleasure and the pain. [_Exeunt. _

[Illustration]

[Illustration]




ACT THE SECOND.


SCENE I. --_A Room in_ ACASTO'S _House_.

_Enter_ ACASTO, CASTALIO, POLYDORE, _and_ Attendants.

_Acast. _ To-day has been a day of glorious sport.
When you, Castalio, and your brother left me,
Forth from the thickets rushed another boar,
So large, he seemed the tyrant of the woods,
With all his dreadful bristles raised up high,
They seemed a grove of spears upon his back;
Foaming he came at me, where I was posted,
Best to observe which way he'd lead the chase,
Whetting his huge long tusks, and gaping wide,
As if he already had me for his prey;
Till, brandishing my well-poised javelin high,
With this bold executing arm, I struck
The ugly brindled monster to the heart.

_Cast. _ The actions of your life were always wondrous.

_Acast. _ No flattery, boy! an honest man can't live by't:
It is a little sneaking art, which knaves
Use to cajole and soften fools withal;
If thou hast flattery in thy nature, out with't,
Or send it to a court; for there 'twill thrive.

_Pol. _ Why there?

_Acast. _ 'Tis, next to money, current there;
To be seen daily in as many forms
As there are sorts of vanities, and men:
The supercilious[18] statesman has his sneer
To smooth a poor man off with, that can't bribe him;
The grave dull fellow of small business soothes
The humourist, and will needs admire his wit.
Who without spleen could see a hot-brained atheist
Thanking a surly doctor for his sermon?
Or a grave counsellor meet a smooth young lord,
Squeeze him by the hand, and praise his good complexion?

_Pol. _ Courts are the places where best manners flourish;
Where the deserving ought to rise, and fools
Make show. Why should I vex and chafe my spleen,
To see a gaudy coxcomb shine, when I
Have seen enough to soothe him in his follies,
And ride him to advantage as I please?

_Acast. _ Who merit ought indeed to rise i' the world;
But no wise man that's honest should expect.
What man of sense would rack his generous mind,
To practise all the base formalities
And forms of business, force a grave starched face,
When he's a very libertine in's heart?
Seem not to know this or that man in public,
When privately perhaps they meet together,
And lay the scene of some brave fellow's ruin?
Such things are done--

_Cast. _ Your lordship's wrongs have been
So great, that you with justice may complain;
But suffer us, whose younger minds ne'er felt
Fortune's deceits, to court her as she's fair.
Were she a common mistress, kind to all,
Her worth would cease, and half the world grow idle.

_Acast. _ Go to, you're fools, and know me not; I've learnt
Long since to bear revenge, or scorn my wrongs,
According to the value of the doer.
You both would fain be great, and to that end
Desire to do things worthy your ambition:
Go to the camp, preferment's noblest mart,
Where honour ought to have the fairest play,
You'll find
Corruption, envy, discontent, and faction,
Almost in every band: how many men
Have spent their blood in their dear country's service,
Yet now pine under want, while selfish slaves,
That even would cut their throats whom now they fawn on,
Like deadly locusts, eat the honey up,
Which those industrious bees so hardly toiled for!

_Cast. _ These precepts suit not with my active mind:
Methinks I would be busy.

_Pol. _ So would I.
Not loiter out my life at home, and know
No farther than one prospect gives me leave.

_Acast. _ Busy your minds then, study arts and men:
Learn how to value merit though in rags,
And scorn a proud ill-mannered knave in office.

_Enter_ SERINA, MONIMIA, _and_ FLORELLA.

_Ser. _ My lord, my father!

_Acast. _ Blessings on my child,
My little cherub! what hast thou to ask me?

_Ser. _ I bring you, sir, most glad and welcome news:
The young Chamont, whom you've so often wished for,
Is just arrived and entering.

_Acast. _ By my soul,
And all my honours, he's most dearly welcome;
Let me receive him like his father's friend.

_Enter_ CHAMONT.

Welcome, thou relict of the best-loved man!
Welcome from all the turmoils, and the hazards
Of certain danger, and uncertain fortune!
Welcome as happy tidings after fears!

_Cham. _ Words would but wrong the gratitude I owe you.
Should I begin to speak, my soul's so full
That I should talk of nothing else all day.

_Mon. _ My brother!

_Cham. _ Oh my sister! let me hold thee
Long in my arms. I've not beheld thy face
These many days; by night I've often seen thee
In gentle dreams, and satisfied my soul
With fancied joy, till morning cares awaked me. --
Another sister! sure it must be so;
Though, I remember well, I had but one:
But I feel something in my heart that prompts
And tells me she has claim and interest there.

_Acast. _ Young soldier, you've not only studied war;
Courtship, I see, has been your practice too,
And may not prove unwelcome to my daughter.

_Cham. _ Is she your daughter? then my heart told true!
And I'm at least her brother by adoption;
For you have made yourself to me a father,
And by that patent I have leave to love her.

_Ser. _ Monimia, thou hast told me men are false,
Will flatter, feign, and make an art of love:
Is Chamont so? No, sure he's more than man,
Something that's near divine, and truth dwells in him.

_Acast. _ Thus happy, who would envy pompous power,
The luxury of courts, or wealth of cities?
Let there be joy through all the house this day;
In every room let plenty flow at large;
It is the birth-day of my royal master.
You have not visited the court, Chamont,
Since your return?

_Cham. _ I have no business there;
I have not slavish temperance enough
To attend a favourite's heels, and watch his smiles;
Bear an ill office done me to my face,
And thank the lord that wronged me for his favour.

_Acast. _ This you could do.

[_To_ CASTALIO _and_ POLYDORE.

_Cast. _ I'd serve my prince.

_Acast. _ Who'd serve him?

_Cast. _ I would, my lord.

_Pol. _ And I; both would.

_Acast. _ Away!
He needs not any servants such as you.
Serve him! he merits more than man can do:
He is so good, praise cannot speak his worth;
So merciful, sure he ne'er slept in wrath;
So just, that were he but a private man,
He could not do a wrong. How would you serve him?

_Cast. _ I'd serve him with my fortune here at home,
And serve him with my person in his wars;
Watch for him, fight for him, bleed for him.

_Pol. _ Die for him,
As every true-born loyal subject ought.

_Acast. _ Let me embrace you both. Now, by the souls
Of my brave ancestors, I'm truly happy;
For this be ever blest my marriage-day,
Blest be your mother's memory that bore you,
And doubly blest be that auspicious hour
That gave ye birth! Yes, my aspiring boys,
Ye shall have business, when your master wants you:
You cannot serve a nobler: I have served him;
In this old body yet the marks remain
Of many wounds. I've with this tongue proclaimed
His right, even in the face of rank rebellion;
And when a foul-mouthed traitor once profaned
His sacred name, with my good sabre drawn,
Even at the head of all his giddy rout,
I rushed, and clove the rebel to the chine.

_Enter_ Servant.

_Ser. _ My lord, the expected guests are just arrived.

_Acast. _ Go you, and give them welcome and reception.

[_Exeunt_ CASTALIO, POLYDORE,
SERINA, FLORELLA, _and_ Servant.

_Cham. _ My lord, I stand in need of your assistance
In something that concerns my peace and honour.

_Acast. _ Spoke like the son of that brave man I loved;
So freely, friendly we conversed together.
Whate'er it be, with confidence impart it;
Thou shalt command my fortune and my sword.

_Cham. _ I dare not doubt your friendship nor your justice.
Your bounty shown to what I hold most dear,
My orphan sister, must not be forgotten.

_Acast. _ Pr'ythee, no more of that: it grates my nature.

_Cham. _ When our dear parents died, they died together,
One fate surprised them, and one grave received them:
My father with his dying breath bequeathed
Her to my love: my mother, as she lay
Languishing by him, called me to her side,
Took me in her fainting arms, wept, and embraced me;
Then pressed me close, and as she observed my tears,
Kissed them away: said she, "Chamont, my son,
By this, and all the love I ever showed thee,
Be careful of Monimia; watch her youth;
Let not her wants betray her to dishonour;
Perhaps kind Heaven may raise some friend": then sighed,
Kissed me again, so blessed us, and expired.
Pardon my grief.

_Acast. _ It speaks an honest nature.

_Cham. _ The friend Heaven raised was you; you took her up,
An infant, to the desert world exposed,
And proved another parent.

_Acast. _ I've not wronged her!

_Cham. _ Far be it from my fears.

_Acast.
_ Then why this argument?

_Cham. _ My lord, my nature's jealous, and you'll bear it.

_Acast. _ Go on.

_Cham. _ Great spirits bear misfortunes hardly:
Good offices claim gratitude; and pride,
Where power is wanting, will usurp a little,
And make us, rather than be thought behind-hand,
Pay over-price.

_Acast. _ I cannot guess your drift:
Distrust you me?

_Cham. _ No, but I fear her weakness
May make her pay a debt at any rate;
And, to deal freely with your lordship's goodness,
I've heard a story lately much disturbs me.

_Acast. _ Then first charge her; and if the offence be found
Within my reach, though it should touch my nature,
In my own offspring, by the dear remembrance
Of thy brave father, whom my heart rejoiced in,
I'd prosecute it with severest vengeance. [_Exit. _

_Cham. _ I thank you from my soul.

_Mon. _ Alas! my brother,
What have I done? and why do you abuse me?
My heart quakes in me; in your settled face
And clouded brow, methinks I see my fate:
You will not kill me!

_Cham. _ Pr'ythee, why dost talk so?

_Mon. _ Look kindly on me, then: I cannot bear
Severity; it daunts, and does amaze me:
My heart's so tender, should you charge me rough,
I should but weep, and answer you with sobbing.
But use me gently, like a loving brother,
And search through all the secrets of my soul.

_Cham. _ Fear nothing, I will show myself a brother,
A tender, honest, and a loving brother.
You've not forgot our father?

_Mon. _ I shall never.

_Cham. _ Then you'll remember too, he was a man
That lived up to the standard of his honour,
And prized that jewel more than mines of wealth:
He'd not have done a shameful thing but once;
Though kept in darkness from the world, and hidden,
He could not have forgiven it to himself.
This was the only portion that he left us;
And I more glory in't than if possessed
Of all that ever fortune threw on fools.
'Twas a large trust, and must be managed nicely.
Now if, by any chance, Monimia,
You've soiled this gem, and taken from its value,
How will you account with me?

_Mon. _ I challenge envy,
Malice, and all the practices of hell,
To censure all the actions of my past
Unhappy life, and taint me if they can!

_Cham. _ I'll tell thee then: three nights ago, as I
Lay musing in my bed, all darkness round me,
A sudden damp struck to my heart, cold sweat
Dewed all my face, and trembling seized my limbs:
My bed shook under me, the curtains started,
And to my tortured fancy there appeared
The form of thee, thus beauteous as thou art;
Thy garments flowing loose, and in each hand
A wanton lover, which by turns caressed thee
With all the freedom of unbounded pleasure:
I snatched my sword, and in the very moment
Darted it at the phantom; straight it left me;
Then rose and called for lights; when, O dire omen!
I found my weapon had the arras pierced,
Just where that famous tale was interwoven,
How the unhappy Theban[19] slew his father.

_Mon. _ And for this cause my virtue is suspected!
Because in dreams your fancy has been ridden,
I must be tortured waking!

_Cham. _ Have a care;
Labour not to be justified too fast:
Hear all, and then let Justice hold the scale.
What followed was the riddle that confounds me:
Through a close lane as I pursued my journey,
And meditated on the last night's vision,
I spied a wrinkled hag, with age grown double,
Picking dry sticks and mumbling to herself;
Her eyes with scalding rheum were galled and red;
Cold palsy shook her head, her hands seemed withered,
And on her crooked shoulders had she wrapped
The tattered remnant of an old striped hanging,
Which served to keep her carcass from the cold;
So there was nothing of a piece about her:
Her lower weeds were all o'er coarsely patched
With different-coloured rags, black, red, white, yellow,
And seemed to speak variety of wretchedness.
I asked her of my way, which she informed me;
Then craved my charity, and bade me hasten
To save a sister:--at that word I started.

_Mon. _ The common cheat of beggars every day;
They flock about our doors, pretend to gifts
Of prophecy, and telling fools their fortunes.

_Cham. _ Oh! but she told me such a tale, Monimia,
As in it bore great circumstance of truth:--
Castalio and Polydore, my sister--

_Mon. _ Ha!

_Cham. _ What, altered! does your courage fail you?
Now, by my father's soul, the witch was honest;
Answer me, if thou hast not lost to them
Thy honour at a sordid game?

_Mon. _ I will,
I must; so hardly my misfortune loads me.
That both have offered me their loves, most true.

_Cham. _ And 'tis as true too, they have both undone thee.

_Mon. _ Though they both with earnest vows
Have pressed my heart, if e'er in thought I yielded
To any but Castalio--

_Cham. _ But Castalio?

_Mon. _ Still will you cross the line of my discourse?
Yes, I confess that he has won my soul
By generous love, and honourable vows:
Which he this day appointed to complete,
And make himself by holy marriage mine.

_Cham. _ Art thou then spotless? hast thou still preserved
Thy virtue white, without a blot, untainted?

_Mon. _ When I'm unchaste, may Heaven reject my prayers!
Or, more to make me wretched, may you know it!

_Cham. _ Oh, then, Monimia, art thou dearer to me
Than all the comforts ever yet blessed man.
But let not marriage bait thee to thy ruin.
Trust not a man; we are by nature false,
Dissembling, subtle, cruel, and unconstant:
When a man talks of love, with caution trust him;
But if he swears, he'll certainly deceive thee.
I charge thee let no more Castalio soothe thee:
Avoid it as thou wouldst preserve the peace
Of a poor brother, to whose soul thou'rt precious.

_Mon. _ I will.

_Cham. _ Appear as cold, when next you meet, as great ones
When merit begs; then shalt thou see how soon
His heart will cool, and all his pains grow easy. [_Exit. _

_Mon. _ Yes, I will try him, torture him severely;
For, O Castalio! thou too much hast wronged me,
In leaving me to Polydore's ill usage.
He comes; and now, for once, O Love, stand neuter,
Whilst a hard part's performed! for I must tempt,
Wound his soft nature, though my heart aches for it. [_Exit. _

_Re-enter_ CASTALIO.

_Cast. _ Monimia, Monimia! --She's gone;
And seemed to part with anger in her eyes:
I am a fool; and she has found my weakness;
She uses me already like a slave
Fast bound in chains, to be chastised at will.
'Twas not well done to trifle with my brother:
I might have trusted him with all the secret,
Opened my silly heart, and shown it bare.
But then he loves her too;--but not like me.
I am a doting, honest slave, designed
For bondage, marriage-bonds, which I have sworn
To wear. It is the only thing I e'er
Hid from his knowledge; and he'll sure forgive
The first transgression of a wretched friend,
Betrayed to love, and all its little follies.

_Re-enter_ POLYDORE _and_ Page _at the Door_.

_Pol. _ Here place yourself, and watch my brother throughly:
If he should chance to meet Monimia, make
Just observation of each word and action;
Pass not one circumstance without remark:
Sir, 'tis your office; do't, and bring me word. [_Exit. _

_Re-enter_ MONIMIA.

_Cast. _ Monimia, my angel! 'twas not kind
To leave me like a turtle here alone,
To droop and mourn the absence of my mate.
When thou art from me, every place is desert,
And I, methinks, am savage and forlorn:
Thy presence only 'tis can make me blest,
Heal my unquiet mind, and tune my soul.

_Mon. _ Oh, the bewitching tongues of faithless men!
'Tis thus the false hyæna makes her moan,
To draw the pitying traveller to her den:
Your sex are so, such false dissemblers all;
With sighs and plaints ye entice poor women's hearts,
And all that pity you are made your prey.

_Cast. _ What means my love? Oh, how have I deserved
This language from the sovereign of my joys!
Stop, stop those tears, Monimia, for they fall
Like baneful dew from a distempered sky;
I feel them chill me to the very heart.

_Mon. _ Oh, you are false, Castalio, most forsworn.
Attempt no farther to delude my faith;
My heart is fixed, and you shall shake't no more.

_Cast. _ Who told you so? what hell-bred villain durst
Profane the sacred business of my love?

_Mon. _ Your brother, knowing on what terms I'm here,
The unhappy object of your father's charity,
Licentiously discoursed to me of love,
And durst affront me with his brutal passion.

_Cast. _ 'Tis I have been to blame, and only I;
False to my brother, and unjust to thee.
For, oh! he loves thee too, and this day owned it;
Taxed me with mine, and claimed a right above me.

_Mon. _ And was your love so very tame, to shrink,
Or, rather than lose him, abandon me?

_Cast. _ I, knowing him precipitate and rash,
To calm his heat, and to conceal my happiness,
Seemed to comply with his unruly will;
Talked as he talked, and granted all he asked;
Lest he in rage might have our loves betrayed,
And I for ever had Monimia lost.

_Mon. _ Could you then? did you? can you own it too?
'Twas poorly done, unworthy of yourself,
And I can never think you meant me fair.

_Cast. _ Is this Monimia? surely no; till now
I ever thought her dove-like, soft, and kind.
Who trusts his heart with woman's surely lost:
You were made fair on purpose to undo us,
Whilst greedily we snatch the alluring bait,
And ne'er distrust the poison that it hides.

_Mon. _ When love ill-placed would find a means to break--

_Cast. _ It never wants pretences or excuse.

_Mon. _ Man therefore was a lord-like creature made,
Rough as the winds, and as inconstant too;
A lofty aspect given him for command,
Easily softened, when he would betray.
Like conquering tyrants, you our breasts invade,
Where you are pleased to forage for a while;
But soon you find new conquests out, and leave
The ravaged province ruinate and waste.
If so, Castalio, you have served my heart,
I find that desolation's settled there,
And I shall ne'er recover peace again.

_Cast. _ Who can hear this, and bear an equal mind!
Since you will drive me from you, I must go;
But O, Monimia, when thou'st banished me,
No creeping slave, though tractable and dull
As artful woman for her ends would choose,
Shall ever dote as I have done: for oh!
No tongue my pleasure nor my pain can tell;
'Tis Heaven to have thee, and without thee hell.

_Mon. _ Castalio! stay! we must not part. I find
My rage ebbs out, and love flows in apace.
These little quarrels love must needs forgive;
They rouse up drowsy thoughts, and wake the soul.
Oh! charm me with the music of thy tongue;
I'm ne'er so blest as when I hear thy vows,
And listen to the language of thy heart.

_Cast. _ Where am I? surely paradise is round me!
Sweets planted by the hand of Heaven grow here,
And every sense is full of thy perfection.
To hear thee speak might calm a madman's frenzy,
Till by attention he forgot his sorrows;
But to behold thy eyes, thy amazing beauties,
Might make him rage again with love, as I do.
To touch thee's Heaven; but to enjoy thee, oh!
Thou Nature's whole perfection in one piece!
Sure, framing thee Heaven took unusual care;
As its own beauty it designed thee fair;
And formed thee by the best-loved angel there. [_Exeunt. _

[Illustration]

[Illustration]

FOOTNOTES:

[18] "Superstitious" in old edition, but evidently a misprint.

[19] OEdipus.




ACT THE THIRD.


SCENE I. --_The Garden before_ ACASTO'S _House_.

_Enter_ POLYDORE _and_ Page.

_Pol. _ Were they so kind? Express it to me all
In words, 'twill make me think I saw it too.

_Page. _ At first I thought they had been mortal foes;
Monimia raged, Castalio grew disturbed;
Each thought the other wronged, yet both so haughty,
They scorned submission, though love all the while
The rebel played, and scarce could be contained.

_Pol. _ But what succeeded?

_Page. _ Oh, 'twas wondrous pretty!
For of a sudden all the storm was past,
A gentle calm of love succeeded it;
Monimia sighed and blushed, Castalio swore;
As you, my lord, I well remember, did
To my young sister in the orange grove,
When I was first preferred to be your page.

_Pol. _ Happy Castalio! now by my great soul,
My ambitious soul, that languishes to glory,
I'll have her yet; by my best hopes, I will.
She shall be mine, in spite of all her arts.
But for Castalio why was I refused?
Has he supplanted me by some foul play?
Traduced my honour? death! he durst not do't.
It must be so: we parted, and he met her,
Half to compliance brought by me; surprised
Her sinking virtue, till she yielded quite.
So poachers basely pick up tired game,
Whilst the fair hunter's cheated of his prey.
Boy!

_Page. _ My lord!

_Pol. _ Go to your chamber, and prepare your lute;
Find out some song to please me, that describes
Women's hypocrisies, their subtle wiles,
Betraying smiles, feigned tears, inconstancies;
Their painted outsides and corrupted minds;
The sum of all their follies, and their falsehoods. [_Exit_ Page.