Moving and floating, and the confused noise And wills them, if they 'll save their ship and lives, All fall to work, and hoist into the street, As to the sea, what next came to their hand, A third takes the bass-viol for the cock-boat, Sits in the bellow on 't, labours, and rows; His oar the stick with which the fiddler played: (As did Arion) on the dolphin's back, Still fumbling on a gittern. The rude multitude, The constable is called t'atone the broil; Which done, and hearing such a noise within Of imminent shipwreck, enters the house, and finds them In this confusion: they adore his staff, And think it Neptune's trident; and that he JAMES SHIRLEY, 1596-1666. The Prodigal Lady. (From the Lady of Pleasure.) ARETINA and the STEWARD. Stew. Be patient, madam, you may have your pleasure. Aret. "T is that I came to town for; I would not Endure again the country conversation To be the lady of six shires! The men, They ring all into Whitsun ales, and swear Through twenty scarfs and napkins, till the hobbyhorse Tire, and the maid-Marian, dissolved to a jelly, Be kept for spoon meat. Stew. These, with your pardon, are no argument To make the country life appear so hateful; A blessing in that calm, would you be pleased Praised for your hospitality, and prayed for: Not where you dwelt.—I would not prophesy, What may succeed your change. Aret. You do imagine, No doubt, you have talked wisely, and confuted Enter SIR THOMAS BORNWELL. Born. How now, what's the matter? Angry, sweetheart? Aret. I am angry with myself, To be so miserably restrained in things Wherein it doth concern your love and honour Dost thou accuse me? Have I not obeyed For this wild town, composed of noise and charge? For a lady of my birth and education? Born. I am not ignorant how much nobility Flows in your blood; your kinsmen, great and powerful Madam, to give the dignity of your birth All the best ornaments which become my fortune, But would not flatter it to ruin both, And be the fable of the town, to teach Other men loss of wit by mine, employed To serve your vast expenses. Aret. Brought in the balance so, sir? Born. Am I then Though you weigh Me in a partial scale, my heart is honest, Fourscore pound suppers for my lord, your kinsman ; And perfumes that exceed all: train of servants, To stifle us at home and show abroad. More motley than the French or the Venetian, About your coach, whose rude postilion Must pester every narrow lane, till passengers And tradesmen curse your choking up their stalls, For hindering o' the market. Aret. Have you done, sir? Born. I could accuse the gaiety of your wardrobe And prodigal embroideries, under which Rich satins, plushes, cloth of silver, dare Not show their own complexions. Your jewels, Able to burn out the spectator's eyes, And show like bonfires on you by the tapers. Born, But are not come to that repentance yet Should teach you skill enough to raise your profit; You look not through the subtlety of cards And mysteries of dice, nor can you save Charge with the box, buy petticoats and pearls; Yourself and my estate by 't. Aret. Good-proceed. Born. Another game you have, which consumes more As to the court of pleasure, all your gallants |