To them.] Compass, Ironside.
You knew her, Mr. Compass? Com. Spare the torture,
I do confess without it.
Pol. And her Husband,
What a fine couple they were? and how they liv'd?
Com. Yes.
Pol. And lov'd together, like a pair of Turtles!
Com. Yes.
Pol. And feasted all the Neighbours.
Com. Take her off
Some body that hath mercy.
Rut. O he knows her,
It seems!
Com. Or any measure of compassion:
Doctors, if you be Christians, undertake
One for the Soul, the other for the Body!
Pol. She would dispute with the Doctors of Divinity,
At her own Table! and the Spittle Preachers!
And find out the Armenians.
Rut. The Armenians?
Pol. I say, the Armenians.
Com. Nay, I say so too!
Pol. So Mr. Polish call'd them, the Armenians!
Com. And Medes and Persians, did he not?
Pol. Yes, he knew'em,
And so did Mistris Steell: She was his Pupil.
The Armenians, he would say, were worse than Papists:
And then the Persians were our Puritans,
Had the fine piercing wits!
Com. And who, the Medes?
Pol. The middle Men, the luke-warm Protestants?
Rut. Out, out.
Pol. Sir, she would find them by their branching:
Their branching Sleeves, brancht Cassocks, and brancht
Doctrine,
Beside their Texts.
Rut. Stint Karlin: I'll not hear,
Confute her Parson.
Pol. I respect no Parsons,
Chaplins, or Doctors, I will speak.
Lad. Yes, so't be reason,
Let her.
Rut. 'Death, she cannot speak reason.
Com. Nor sense, if we be Masters of our senses!
Iro. What mad Woman ha'they got here, to bate?
Pol. Sir, I am mad, in truth, and to the purpose;
And cannot but be mad, to hear my Ladies
Dead Sister slighted, witty Mrs. Steel!
Iro. If she had a wit, Death has gone neer to spoil it,
Assure your self.
Pol. She was both witty, and zealous,
And lighted all the Tinder o' the truth,
(As one said) of Religion, in our Parish;
She was too lean'd to live along with us!
She could the Bible in the Holy Tongue:
And read it without Pricks: had all her Masoreth;
Knew Burton, and his Bull; and scribe Prin-Gent.
Praesto-be-gon: and all the Pharisees.
Lad. Dear gossip,
Be you gone, at this time, too, and vouchsafe
To see your charge, my Niece.
Pol. I shall obey
If your wise Ladiship think fit: I know
To yield to my Superiors.
Lad. A good Woman!
But when she is impertinent, grows earnest,
A little troublesome, and out of season:
Her love and zeal transport her.
Com. I am glad
That anything could port her hence. We now
Have hope of Dinner, after her long Grace.
I have brought your Ladiship a hungry Guest here,
A Soldier, and my Brother Captain ironside:
Who being by custom grown a Sanguinary,
The solemn and adopted Son of slaughter:
Is more delighted i'the chase of an Enemy,
An execution of three days, and nights,
Then all the hope of numerous succesion,
Or happiness of Issue could bring to him.
Rut. He is no Suitor then?
Pal. So't should seem.
Com. And if he can get pardon at Heavens hand
For all his murthers, is in as good case
As a new chirst'ned Infant: (his Imployments
Continu'd to him, without interruption,
And not allowing him, or time, or place
To commit any other sin, but those)
Please you to make him welcome for a meal, Madam.
Lad. The nobleness of his proffesion makes
His welcome perfect: though your course description
Would seem to sully it.
Iro. Never, where a beam
Of so much favour doth illustrate it,
Right knowing Lady.
Pal. She hath cur'd all well.
Rut. And he hath fitted well the Complement.