

E-text prepared by David Starner, Moti Ben-Ari, and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net) from page images generously made
available by HathiTrust Digital Library
(http://www.hathitrust.org/digital_library)



Note: Images of the original pages, originally obtained from
      the HathiTrust Digital Library, are available through
      the Google Books Library Project. See
      http://www.google.com/books?id=WVI6AQAAMAAJ





THE LADY OF PLEASVRE.

A COMEDIE,

As it was Acted by her Majesties
Servants, at the private
House in _Drury_ Lane.

Written by _James Shirly_.






[Illustration]

_LONDON_,
Printed by _Tho. Cates_, for _Andrew Crooke_,
and _William Cooke_.
1637.




Persons of the Comedy.

_Lord._
_Sir Thomas Bornewell._
_Sir William Sentlove._
_Mr. Alex. Kickshaw._
_Mr. John Littleworth._
_Mr. Hairecut._
_Mr. Fredericke._
Steward to the Lady _Aretina_.
Steward to the Lady _Celestina_.
_Secretary._
_Servants, &c._

_Aretina_, Sir _Thomas Bornwells_ Lady.
_Celestina_, a young Widow.
_Isabella._
_Mariana._
_Madam Decoy._

Scene the Strand.




[Illustration]


TO
THE RIGHT HONORABLE
RICHARD LORD
LOVELACE _of_ Hurley.

My Lord,

I _Cannot want encouragement to present a Poeme to your Lordship,
while you possesse so noble a breast, in which so many seedes of
honour, to the example and glory of your Name obtain'd, before your
yeares a happy maturity. This Comedy fortunate in the Scene, and
one that may challenge a place in the first forme of the Authors
compositions, most humbly addresseth it selfe to your honour, if it
meete your_ _gracious acceptance, and that you repent not to be a
Patron, your Lordshipps will onely crownes the imagination, and for
ever by this favour oblige_,

My Lord
_The most humble Services_
_of your Honourer_,
IAMES SHIRLY.




The Lady of Pleasure.


_The First Act._


_Enter_ Aretina _and her Steward_.

_Stew._ Be patient Madam, you may have your pleasure.

_Are._ Tis that I came to towne for, I wo'd not
Endure againe the countrey conversation,
To be the Lady of sixe shires I the men
So neare the Primitive making, they retaine
A sence of nothing but the earth, their braines
And barren heads standing as much in want
Of plowing as their ground, to heare a fellow
Make himselfe merry and his horse with whisteling
Sellingers round, to observe with what solemnitie
They keepe their Wakes, and throw for pewter Candlestickes,
How they become the Morris, whith whose bells
They ring all into Whitson Ales, and sweate,
Through twenty Scarffes and Napkins, till the Hobbyhorse
Tire, and the maide Marrian dissolv'd to a gelly,
Be kept for spoone meate.

_Ste._ These with your pardon are no Argument
To make the country life appeare so hatefull,
At least to your particular, who enjoy'd
A blessing in that calme; would you be pleasd
To thinke so, and the pleasure of a kingdome,
While your owne will commanded what should move
Delight, your husbands love and power joyned
To give your life more harmony, you liv'd there,
Secure and innocent, beloved of all,
Praisd for your hospitality, and praid for,
You might be envied, but malice knew
Not where you dwelt, I wo'd not prophecy
But leave to your owne apprehension
What may succeede your change.

_Are._ You doe imagine,
No doubt, you have talk'd wisely, and confuted,
London past all defence, your Master should
Doe well to send you backe into the countrie,
With title of Superintendent Baylie.

_Ste._ How Madam.

_Are._ Even so sir.

_Ste._ I am a Gentleman though now your servant.

_Are._ A country-gentleman,
By your affection to converse with stuble,
His tenants will advance your wit, and plumpe it so
With beefe and bag-pudding.

_Ste._ You may say your pleasure,
It becomes not me dispute.

_Are._ Complaine to the Lord of the soyle your master.

_Ste._ Y'are a woman of an ungovern'd passion, and I pitty you.

_Enter Sir Thomas Bornwell._

_Bor._ How how? Whats the matter?

_Ste._ Nothing Sir.

_Bor._ Angry sweeteheart?

_Are._ I am angry with my selfe,
To be so miserably restrained in things,
Wherein it doth concern your love and honour
To see me satisfied.

_Bor._ In what _Aretina_?
Dost thou accuse me? have I not obeyd
All thy desires, against mine owne opinion,
Quitted the countrie, and removed the hope
Of our returne, by sale of that faire Lordship
We liv'd in, chang'd a calme and retire life
For this wild towne, composd of noise and charge.

_Are._ What charge more than is necessarie,
For a lady of my birth and education?

_Bor._ I am not Ignorant, how much Nobilitie
Flowes in your bloud, your kinsmen great and powerfull,
I'th State, but with this lose not your memory
Of being my wife, I shall be studious
Madam to give the dignitie of your birth
All the best ornaments which become my fortune
But would not flatter it, to ruine both,
And be the fable of the towne, to teach
Other men losse of wit by mine, emploid
To serve your vast expences. _Are._ Am I then
Brought in the ballance? so Sir. _Bo._ Though you weigh
Me in a partiall scale my heart is honest,
And must take libertie to thinke you have
Obeyed no modest counsell to effect,
Nay study wayes of pride and costly ceremony,
Your change of gaudy furniture and pictures,
Of this Italian Master, and that Dutchmans.
Your mighty looking-glasses like Artillery;
Brought whom on Engins the superfluous plate,
Anticke and novell, vanities of fires,
Fourescore pound suppers for my Lord your kinsman,
Banquets for tother Lady, aunt, and cozens,
And perfumes that exceede all traine of servants,
To stifle us at home and shew abroad
More motley than the French, or the Venetian,
About your Coach whose rude Postillion
Must pester every narrow lane, till passengers
And tradsmen curse your choaking up their stalls;
And common cries pursue your Ladiship,
For hindring o'their market. _Are._ Have you done sir.

_Bor._ I could accuse the gayetie of your wardrobe,
And prodigall embroderies under which
Rich Sattens, Plushes, cloath of Silver, dare
Not shew their owne complexions, your jewells
Able to burne out the Spectators eyes,
And shew like Bonefires on you by the tapers,
Something might here be spar'd, which safely of
Your birth and honour, since the truest wealth,
Shines from the soule, and drawes up just admirers,
I could urge something more: _Are._ Pray doe I like
Your homilie of thrifte. _Bo._ I could wish Madam
You would not game so much. _Are._ A gamster too?

_Bor._ But are not come to that repentance yet,
Should teach you skill enough to raise your profit,
You looke not through the subtiltie of Cards,
And mysteries of Dice, nor can you save
Charge with the boxe, buy petticotes and purles,
And keepe your familie by the precious income,
Nor doe I wish you should, my poorest servant
Shall not upbraid my tables, nor his hire
Purchasd beneath my honour, you make play
Not a Pastime but a tyrannie, and vexe
Your selfe and my estate by't. _Are._ Good, proceed.

_Bor._ Another game you have, which consumes more
Your fame than purse, your revells in the night,
Your meetings cal'd the Ball, to which appeare,
As to the Court of Pleasure, all your gallants,
And Ladies thither bound by a Subpena
Of _Venus_, and small _Cupids_ high displeasure,
Tis but the family of love translated
Into more costly sinne, there was a play on't,
And had the Poet not beene brib'd to a modest
Expression of your Anticke gambolls in't,
Some darkes had beene discovered, and the deeds too,
In time he may repent and make some blush,
To see the second part danc'd on the Stage;
My thoughts acquit you for dishonoring me
By any foule act, but the vertuous know,
Tis not enough to cleare our selves, but the
Suspitions of our shame. _Are._ Have you concluded
Your lecture? _Bor._ I ha done, and howsoever
My language my appeare to you, it carries
No other than my faire and just intent
To your delights without curbe to their modestie
And noble freedome. _Are._ Ile not be so tedious,
In my reply, but without arte or elegance,
Assure you I keepe still my first opinion,
And though you vay'le, your avaritious meaning
With hansome names of modesty, and thrift,
I finde you would intrench and wound the liberty
I was borne with, were my desires unpriviledged
By example, while my judgement thought 'em fit,
You ought not to oppose, but when the practise
And tract of every honourable Lady,
Authorise me, I take it great injustice,
To have my pleasures circumscribed, and taught me,
A narrow minded husband is a theefe
To his owne fame, and his preferment too,
He shuts his parts and fortunes from the world.
While from the popular vote and knowledge men
Rise to imployment in the state. _Bor._ I have
No great ambition to buy preferment
At so deare rate. _Are._ Nor I to sell my honour,
By living poore and sparingly, I was not
Bred in that ebbe of fortune, and my fate
Shall not compell me too't. _Bor._ I know not Madam,
But you pursue these wayes. _Are._ What wayes?

_Bor._ In the strict sence of honestie I dare
Make oath, they are Innocent. _Are._ Do not divert,
By busie troubling of your braine, those thoughts
That should preserve em. _Bor._ How was that?

_Are._ Tis English.

_Bor._ But carries some unkinde sence.

_Enter Madam Decoy._

_De._ Good morrow my sweete Madam.

_Are._ _Decoy_ welcome, this visite is a favour.

_De._ Alas sweet Madam, I cannot stay, I came
But to present my service to your Ladiship;
I could not passe by your doore, but I must take
The boldnesse to render my respects.

_Are._ You oblige me Madam, but I must
Not dispence so with your absence.

_De._ Alas, the Coach Madam stayes for me at the doore.

_Are._ Thou shalt command mine, prethee sweete _Decoy_.

_De._ I wou'd waite on you Madam, but I have many
Visits to make this morning I beseech.

_Are._ So you will promise to dine with me. _De._ I shall
Present a guest. _Are._ Why then good morrow Madam.

_De._ A happy day shine on your Ladiship.       _Exit._

_Enter Steward._

_Are._ Whats your newes sir? _St._ Madam two gentlemen.

_Are._ What gentlemen? Have they no names. _St._ They are
The gentleman with his owne head of haire,
Whom you commended for his horsemanship
In Hide Parke, and becomming the saddle
The tother day. _Are._ What circumstance is this,
To know him by. _St._ His names at my tongues end,
He lik'd the fashion of your pearle chaine Madam,
And borrowed it for his Jewelier to take
A coppie by it. _Bor._ What cheating gallants this?

_St._ That never walkes without a Ladies buske,
And playes with fannes Mr. _Alexander Kickshaw_,
I thought I should remember him. _Are._ Whats the other?

_St._ What an unluckie memorie I have?
The gallant that still danceth in the streete,
And weares a grosse of Ribbon in his hat,
That carries _Oringado_ in his pocket,
And Suger-plumbs to sweeten his discourse,
That studies complement, defies all wit
On blacke and censures playes that are not bawdy,
Mr. _John Littleworth_. _Are._ They are welcome, but
Pray entertaine them a small time, lest I
Be unprovided. _Bor._ Did they aske for me?

_Ste._ No sir. _Bor._ It matters not, they must be welcome.

_Are._ Fie, how's this haire disordered? here's a curle,
Straddle most impiously, I must to my closet.       _Exit._

_Bor._ Waite on em my Lady will returne agen,
I have to such a height fulfill'd her humor,
All applications dangerous, these gallants
Must be received or shee will fall into
A tempest, and the house be shooke with names
Of all her kindred, tis a servitude,
I may in time shake off.

_Enter Alexander and Littleworth._

_Al. Lit._ Save you Sir _Thomas_.

_Bor._ Save you gentlemen. _Al._ I kisse your hand.

_Bor._ What day is it abroad?

_Lit._ The morning rises from your Ladies eye,
If she looke cleare we take the happy omen
Of a faire day. _Bo._ Sheele instantly appeare,
To the discredit of your complement,
But you expresse your wit thus. _Al._ And you modestie,
Nor to affect praises of your owne.

_Bor._ Leaving this subject, what games now on foote?
What exercise carries the generall vote?
Oth towne now nothing moves without your knowledge.

_Al._ The cocking now has all the noise, Ile have
A hundred peeces of one battle, Oh,
These birds of _Mars_! _Lit._ _Venus_ is _Mars_ his bird too.

_Al._ Why and the pretty Doves are _Venusses_,
To show that kisses draw the Charriot.

_Lit._ I am for that skirmish. _Bor._ When shall wee have
More Booths and Bag-pipes upon Bansted downes,
No mighty race is expected, but my Lady returnes.

_Enter Aretina._

_Are._ Faire morning to you gentlemen,
You went not late to bed by your early visit,
You doe me honour. _Al._ It becomes our service.

_Are._ What newes abroade? you hold precious intelligence.

_Lit._ All tongues are so much busie with your praise,
They have not time to frame other discourse,
Will please you Madam? tast a Sugerplum.

_Bor._ What do's the Goldsmith thinke the Pearle is worth
You borrowed of my Lady? _Al._ Tis a rich one.

_Bor._ She has many other toyes whose fashion you,
Will like extremely, you have no intention
To buy any of her Iewels.  _Al._ Vnderstand me.

_Bor._ You had rather sell perhaps, but leaving this?
I hope you'le dine with us.

_Al._ I came a purpose.

_Are._ And where were you last night? _Al._ I Madam? where
I slept not, it had beene sin where so much
Delight and beauty was to keepe me waking,
There is a Lady Madam will be worth
Your free societie, my conversation
Nere knew so elegant and brave a soule,
With most incomparable flesh and bloud,
So spirited, so Courtly speakes the Languages,
Sings, Dances, playes o'th Lute to admiration,
Is faire and paints not, games too, keepes a table,
And talkes most witty Satyre, has a wit
Of a cleane Mercury.

_Lit._ Is shee married? _Al._ No.

_Are._ A Virgin? _Al._ Neither. _Lit._ What a widow? something
Of this wide commendation might have beene
Excusd, this such a prodigie? _Al._ Repent
Before I name her, shee did never see
Yet full sixteene, an age in the opinion
Of wise men not contemptible, she ha's
Mourned out her yeare too for the honest Knight
That had compassion of her youth, and dy'd
So timely, such a widow is not common,
And now she shines more fresh and tempting
Then any naturall Virgin.

_Are._ Whats her name?

_Al._ Shee was Christened _Celestina_, by her husband
The Lady _Bellamour_, this Ring was hers.

_Bor._ You borrowed it to coppie out the Posie.

_Al._ Are they not pretty Rubies? twas a grace
She was pleasd to shew me, that I might have one
Made of the same fashion, for I love
All prettie formes. _Are._ And is she glorious?

_Al._ She is full of Jewels Madam, but I am
Most taken with the bravery of her minde,
Although her garments have all grace and ornament.

_Are._ You have beene high in praises. _Al._ I come short,
No flattery can reach her. _Bor._ Now my Lady
Is troubled as she feared to be eclipsd,
This newes will cost me somewhat. _Are._ You deserve
Her favour for this noble character.

_Al._ And I possesse it by