_Cel._ How sir, my honour? _St._ Though you heare it not, Mens tongues are liberall in your character, Since you began to live thus high, I know Your fame is precious to you. _Cel._ I were best Make you my governor; audacious Varlet, How dare you interpose your doting counsell? Mind your affaires with more obedience, Or I shall ease you of an office sir, Must I be limited to please your honour? Or for the vulgar breath confine my pleasures, I will pursue 'em in what shapes I fancie, Here, and abroad, my entertainements shall Be oftner, and more rich, who shall controule me? I live i'th strand, whether few Ladies come To live, and purchase, more than fame, I will Be hospitable then, and spare no cost That may engage all generous report To trumpet forth my bounty and my braverie, Till the Court envie, and remove, Ile have My house the Academy of wits, who shall Exalt with rich Sacke, and Sturgeon, Write Panegyricks of my feasts, and praise The method of my wittie superfluities, The horses shall be taught with frequent waiting Vpon my gates, to stop in their careere Toward Charing-crosse, spight of the Coachmans fury. And not a tilter, but shall strike his plume, When he sailes by my window, my Balconie Shall be the Courtiers Idoll, and more gaz'd at, Than all the Pageantry at Temple barre, By countrey Clients. _St._ Sure my Ladie's mad. _Cel._ Take that for your ill manners. _St._ Thanke you Madam, I would there were lesse quicksilver in your fingers. _Exit._ _Cel._ There's more than simple honesty in a servant Requir'd to his full dutie, none should dare, But with a looke, much lesse a sawcie language Checke at their Mistresse pleasure, I'me resolv'd To pay for some delight, my estate will beare it, Ile reine it shorter when I please. _Enter Steward._ _St._ A gentleman Desires to speake with your Ladiship. _Cel._ His name? _St._ He saies you know him not, he seemes to be Of qualitie. _Cel._ Admit him. Sir with me. _Enter Hairecut._ _Ha._ Madam I know not, how you may receive This boldnesse from me, but my faire intents Knowne, will incline you to be charitable. _Cel._ No doubt sir. _Ha._ He must live obscurely Madam, That hath not heard what vertues you possesse, And I a poore admirer of your fame, Am come to kisse your hand. _Cel._ That all your businesse? _Ha._ Though it were worth much travell, I have more In my ambition. _Cel._ Speake it freely sir. _Ha._ You are a widow. _Cel._ So. _Ha._ And I a Bachelor. _Cel._ You come a wooing sir, and would perhaps Shew me a way to reconcile thee two. _Ha._ And blesse my starres for such a happinesse.