+New.+ 'Tis so; this fellow In's company confirms me. 'Tis the very business, Why Plotwell has sent for us. +Bright.+ Here they come: Prythee, let's stand and overhear 'em. +New.+ Stand close, then. SCENE V. _Enter +Warehouse+, +Bannswright+._ +Ware.+ Madam Aurelia is her name? +Ban.+ Her father Was, sir, an Irish baron, that undid Himself by housekeeping. +Ware.+ As for her birth, I could wish it were meaner: as many knights And justices of peace as have been of The family are reckoned into the portion. She'll still be naming of her ancestors, Ask jointure by the herald's book, and I, That have no coat, nor can show azure lions In fields of argent, shall be scorn'd; she'll think Her honour wrong'd to match a man that hath No 'scutcheons but them of his company, Which once a year do serve to trim a lighter To Westminster and back again. +Ban.+ You are mistaken, sir. This lady, as she is Descended of a great house, so she hath No dowry but her arms: she can bring only Some libbards'[249] heads or strange beasts which, you know, Being but beasts, let them derive themselves From monsters in the globe, and lineally Proceed from Hercules' labours, they will never Advance her to a husband equal to Herself in birth, that can give beasts too. She Aims only to match one that can maintain Her some way to her state. She is possess'd, What streams of gold you flow in, sir. +Ware.+ But can she Affect my age? +Ban.+ I ask'd her that, and told her You were about some threescore, sir, and ten; But were as lusty as one of twenty, or [_Aside._ An aged eunuch. +Ware.+ And what replied she? +Ban.+ She, Like a true Lucrece, answer'd it was fit For them to marry by the church-book, who Came there to cool themselves; but to a mind Chaste, and endued with virtue, age did turn Love into reverence. +Bright.+ Or sir-reverence. [_Aside._ +New.+ Prythee, observe. +Ware.+ Is she so virtuous, then? +Ban.+ 'Tis all the fault she has: she will outpray A preacher at St Antlin's, and divides The day in exercise. I did commend A great precisian to her for her woman, Who tells me that her lady makes her quilt Her smocks before for kneeling. +Ware.+ Excellent creature! +Ban.+ Then, sir, she is so modest. +Ware.+ Too? +Ban.+ The least Obscene word shames her; a lascivious figure Makes her do penance, and she maintains the law, Which forbids fornication, doth extend To kissing too. +Ware.+ I think the time an age, Till the solemnity be pass'd.