Cel.  If I stay longer
I shall number as many Lovers as Lais did;
How they flock after me! upon my Conscience,
I have had a dozen Horses given me this morning,
I’le ev’n set up a Troop, and turn She-souldier,
A good discreet wench now, that were not hidebound
Might raise a fine estate here, and suddenly: 
For these warm things will give their Souls—­I can go no where
Without a world of offerings to my Excellence: 
I am a Queen, a Goddesse, I know not what—­
And no constellation in all Heaven, but I out-shine it;
And they have found out now I have no eyes
Of mortal lights, but certain influences,
Strange vertuous lightnings, humane nature starts at,
And I can kill my twenty in a morning,
With as much ease now—­
Ha! what are these? new projects? 
Where are my honourable Ladies? are you out too? 
Nay then I must buy the stock, send me good Carding: 
I hope the Princes hands be not in this sport;
I have not seen him yet, cannot hear from him,
And that troubles me:  all these were recreations
Had I but his sweet company to laugh with me: 
What fellow’s that? another Apparition? 
This is the lovingst Age:  I should know that face,
Sure I have seen’t before, not long since neither.

Ant.  She sees me now:  O Heaven, a most rare creature!

Cel.  Yes, ’tis the same:  I will take no notice of ye,
But if I do not fit ye, let me fry for’t;
Is all this Cackling for your egg? they are fair ones,
Excellent rich no doubt too; and may stumble
A good staid mind, but I can go thus by ’em;
My honest friend; do you set off these Jewels?

Ant.  Set ’em off, Lady?

Cel.  I mean, sell ’em here, Sir?

Ant.  She’s very quick; for sale they are not meant sure.

Cel.  For sanctity I think much less:  good even Sir.

Ant.  Nay noble Lady, stay:  ’tis you must wear ’em:  Never look strange, they are worthy your best beauty.

Cel.  Did you speak to me?

Ant.  To you or to none living:  To you they are sent, to you they are sacrificed.

Cel.  I’le never look a Horse i’th’ mouth that’s given:  I thank ye, Sir:  I’le send one to reward ye.

Ant.  Do you never ask who sent ’em?

Cel.  Never I:  Nor never care, if it be an honest end, That end’s the full reward, and thanks but slubber it; If it be ill, I will not urge the acquaintance.

Ant.  This has a soul indeed:  pray let me tell ye—­

Cel.  I care not if ye do, so you do it hansomly, And not stand picking of your words.

Ant.  The King sent ’em.

Cel.  Away, away, thou art some foolish fellow,
And now I think thou hast stole ’em too:  the King sent ’em? 
Alas good man, wouldst thou make me believe
He has nothing to do with things of these worths,
But wantonly to fling ’em? he’s an old man,
A good old man, they say too:  I dare swear
Full many a year ago he left these gambols: 
Here, take your trinkets.