Maudlin, Douce.
Mau. Have I not left'em in a brave confusion?
Amaz'd their Expectation? got their Venison?
Troubled their mirth and meeting? made them doubtful
And jealous of each other? all distracted?
And, i'the close, uncertain of themselves?
This can your Mother do, my dainty Douce!
Take any Shape upon her! and delude
The Senses best acquainted with their Owners!
The jolly Robin, who hath bid this feast,
And made this solemn Invitation;
I ha'possess'd so, with syke dislikes
Of this own Marian, that all-be he know her,
As doth the vaunting Hart his venting Hind,
He ne'er fra'hence, sall neis her i'the wind,
To his first liking.
Dou. But were ye like her Mother?
Mau. So like Douce,
As had she seen me her sel', her sel' had doubted
Whether had been the liker of the twa!
This can your Mother do, I tell you, Daughter!
I ha' but dight ye yet, i'the out-dress,
And 'pparel of Earine! but this Rainment,
These very Weeds sall make ye, as but coming
In view or ken of AEglamour, your Form
Shall show too slippery to be look'd upon!
And all the Forest swear you to be she!
They shall rin after ye, and wage the odds,
Upo' thir own deceived sights, ye' are her!
Whilst she (poor La**) is stock'd up in a Tree:
Your Brother Lorel's Prize! For so my largess
Hath lotted her to be your Brother's Mistris;
Gif she can be reclaim'd: gif not, his Prey!
And here he comes, new claithed, like a Prince
Of Swine'erds! syke he seems! dight i' the Spoils
Of those he feeds! A mighty Lord of Swine!
He is command now to woo. Let's step aside,
And hear his Love-craft! See, he opes the oor!
And takes her by the hand, and helps her forth!
This is true Courtship, and becomes his Ray.