_Hon._ Have ye schools for all these mysteries?
_Al._ O yes, And several hours prefix'd to studie in: Ye may have Kalenders to know the good hour, And when to take a jewel: for the ill too, When to refuse, with observations on 'em; Under what Sign 'tis best meeting in an Arbor, And in what Bower, and hour it works; a thousand, When in a Coach, when in a private lodging, With all their vertues.
_Hon._ Have ye studied these? How beastly they become your youth? how bawdily? A woman of your tenderness, a teacher, Teacher of these lewd Arts? of your full beauty? A man made up in lust would loath this in ye: The rankest Leacher, hate such impudence. They say the Devil can assume heavens brightness, And so appear to tempt us: sure thou art no woman.
_Hon._ Thou hast no tenderness, No reluctation in thy heart: 'tis mischief.
_Al._ All's one for that; read these and then be satisfi'd, A few more private rules I have gather'd for ye, Read 'em, and well observe 'em: so I leave ye. [_Exit._
_Viol._ A wond[ro]us wicked woman: shame go with thee.
_Hon._ What new _Pandoras_ box is this? I'le see it, Though presently I tear it. Read Thine _Viola_, 'Tis in our own wills to believe and follow.
_Worthy_ Honora, _as you have begun In vertues spotless school, so forward run: Pursue that nobleness, and chaste desire You ever had, burn in that holy fire; And a white Martyr to fair memorie Give up your name, unsoil'd of infamy._
How's this? Read yours out Sister: this amazes me.
Vio. _Fear not thou yet unblasted Violet, Nor let my wanton words a doubt beget, Live in that peace and sweetness of thy bud, Remember whose thou art, and grow still good. Remember what thou art, and stand a storie Fit for thy noble Sex, and thine own glorie._
_Viol._ Sure a good woman, An excellent woman, Sister.
_Hon._ It confounds me; Let 'em use all their arts, if these be their ends, The Court I say breeds the best foes and friends. Come, let's be honest wench, and doe our best service.
_Viol._ A most excellent woman, I will love her. [_Exeunt._
_Enter_ Olympia _with a Casket, and_ Alinda.
_Al._ Madam, the Duke has sent for the two Ladies.
_Olym._ I prethee go: I know thy thoughts are with him. Go, go _Alinda_, do not mock me more. I have found thy heart wench, do not wrong thy Mistris, Thy too much loving Mistris: do not abuse her.