* * * * * _The Scene_ Rome. * * * * * The principal Actors were, _Richard Burbadge._ _Henry Condel._ _John Lowin._ _William Ostler._ _John Underwood._ * * * * * _Actus Primus. Scena Prima._ _Enter_ Balbus, Proculus, Chilax, Licinius. _Bal._ I Never saw the like, she's no more stirr'd, No more another Woman, no more alter'd With any hopes or promises laid to her (Let 'em be ne're so weighty, ne're so winning) Than I am with the motion of mine own legs. _Pro._ _Chilax_, You are a stranger yet in these designs, At least in _Rome_; tell me, and tell me truth, Did you ere know in all your course of practice, In all the wayes of Women you have run through (For I presume you have been brought up _Chilax_, As we to fetch and carry.) _Chi._ True I have so. _Pro._ Did you I say again in all this progress, Ever discover such a piece of beauty, Ever so rare a Creature, and no doubt One that must know her worth too, and affect it, I and be flatter'd, else 'tis none: and honest? Honest against the tide of all temptations, Honest to one man, to her Husband only, And yet not eighteen, not of age to know Why she is honest? _Chi._ I confess it freely, I never saw her fellow, nor e're shall, For all our Grecian Dames, all I have tri'd, (And sure I have tri'd a hundred, if I say two I speak within my compass) all these beauties, And all the constancy of all these faces, Maids, Widows, Wives, of what degree or calling, So they be Greeks, and fat, for there's my cunning, I would undertake and not sweat for't, _Proculus_, Were they to try again, say twice as many, Under a thousand pound, to lay 'em bedrid; But this Wench staggers me. _Lyc._ Do you see these Jewels? You would think these pretty baits; now I'le assure ye Here's half the wealth of _Asia_. _Bal._ These are nothing To the full honours I propounded to her; I bid her think, and be, and presently What ever her ambition, what the Counsel Of others would add to her, what her dreams Could more enlarge, what any President Of any Woman rising up to glory, And standing certain there, and in the highest, Could give her more, nay to be Empress. _Pro._ And cold at all these offers? _Bal._ Cold as Crystal, Never to be thaw'd again. _Chi._ I tri'd her further, And so far, that I think she is no Woman, At least as Women go now. _Lyc._ Why what did you? _Chi._ I offered that, that had she been but Mistris Of as much spleen as Doves have, I had reach'd her; A safe revenge of all that ever hates her, The crying down for ever of all beauties That may be thought come near her. _Pro._ That was pretty.