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Liege people, and rear golden piles, are trash
To a strong well-wrought halter; there the gout,
The stone, yes, and the melancholy devil,
Are cured in less time than a pair of minutes:
Build me a gallows in this very plot,
And I 'll despatch your business.

Cor. Fix the knot
Right under the left ear.

Mel. Sirrah, make ready.

Cor. Yet do not be so sudden; grant me leave
To give a farewell to a creature long
Absented from me: 't is a daughter, sir,
Snatch'd from me in her youth, a handsome girl;
She comes to ask a blessing.

Mel. Pray, where is she?
I cannot see her yet.

Cor. She makes more haste
In her quick prayers than her trembling steps,
Which many griefs have weaken'd.

Mel. Cruel man!
How canst thou rip a heart that's cleft already
With injuries of time ?-While I am frantic,
While throngs of rude divisions huddle on,
And do disrank my brains from peace and sleep,
So long—I am insensible of cares.
As balls of wildfire may be safely touch'd,
Not violently sunder'd, and thrown up;
So my distemper'd thoughts rest in their rage,
Not hurried in the air of repetition,
Or memory of my misfortunes past:
Then are my griefs struck home, when they 're

To their own pity of themselves.-Proceed;
What of your daughter now?

Cor. I cannot tell you,
'Tis now out of my head again; my brains
Are crazy; I have scarce slept one sound sleep
These twelve months.

Mel. 'Las, poor man! canst thou imagine

To prosper in the task thou tak’st in hand,
By practising a cure upon my weakness,
And yet be no physician for thyself?
Go, go! turn over all thy books once more,
And learn to thrive in modesty; for impudence
Does least become a scholar. Thou 'rt a fool,
A kind of learned fool.

Cor. I do confess it.

Mel. If thou canst wake with me, forget to eat, Renounce the thought of greatness, tread on fate, Sigh out a lamentable tale of things, Done long ago, and done; and, when sighs Are wearied, piece up what remains behind With weeping eyes, and hearts that bleed to death; Thou shalt be a companion fit for me, And we will sit together, like true friends, And never be divided. With what greediness Do I hug my afflictions! there's no mirth Which is not truly season'd with some madness: As, for example

[Exit, hastily. Cor. What new crotchet next? There is so much sense in this wild distraction, That I am almost out of my wits too, To see and hear him :* some few hours more Spent here, would turn me apish, if not frantic.

Re-enter MELEANDER with CLEOPHILA. Mel. In all the volumes thou hast turn'd, thou


Of knowledge, hast thou met with any rarity,
Worthy thy contemplation, like to this?
The model of the heavens, the earth, the waters,
The harmony and sweet consent of times,
Are not of such an excellence, in form
Of their creation, as the infinite wonder
That dwells within the compass of this face:
And yet, I tell thee, scholar, under this
Well-order'd sign is lodg’d such an obedience
As will hereafter, in another age,

Strike all comparison into a silence.
She had a sister too ;-but as for her,
If I were given to talk, I could describe
A pretty piece of goodness—let that pass--
We must be wise sometimes. What would you with

her ?
Cor. I with her ? nothing, by your leave, sir.

Mel. [to Cleo.] Good soul! be patient;
We are a pair of things the world doth laugh at.
Yet be content, Cleophila ; those clouds,
Which bar the sun from shining on our miseries,
Will never be chased off till I am dead;
And then some charitable soul will take thee
Into protection: I am hasting on;
The time cannot be long.

Cleo. I do beseech you,
Sir, as you love your health, as you respect
My safety, let not passion overrule you.
Mel. It shall not ; I am friends with all the

world. Get me some wine; to witness that I will be An absolute good fellow, I will drink with thee.

Cor. Have you prepared his cup? [Aside to CLEO. Cleo. It is in readiness.

Enter CuculuS and GRILLA. Cuc. By your leave, gallants, I come to speak with a young lady, as they say, the old Trojan's daughter of the house.

Mel. Your business with my lady-daughter, tossGril. Toss-pot? 0, base! toss-pot ?

Cuc. Peace! dost not see in what case he is ?-I would do my own commendations to her; that's all. Mel. Do. Come, my Genius, we will quaff in

wine, Till we grow wise. Cor. True nectar is divine.

[Exeunt Mel. and Cor.


Cuc. So! I am glad he is gone. Page, walk aside. -Sweet beauty, I am sent ambassador from the mistress of my thoughts, to you, the mistress of my desires.

Cleo. So, sir! I pray be brief.

Cuc. That you may know I am not, as they say, an animal, which is, as they say, a kind of Cokes,' which is, as the learned term it, an ass, a puppy, a widgeon, a dolt, a noddy, a

Cleo. As you please.

Cuc. Pardon me for that, it shall be as you please indeed : forsooth, I love to be courtly and in fashion. Cleo. Well, to your embassy. What, and from

whom? Cuc. There you come to me. 0, to be in the favour of great ladies, is as much to say, as to be great in ladies' favours. Cleo. Good time o' day to you! I can stay no

longer. Cuc. By this light, but you must; for now I come to't. The most excellent, most wise, most dainty, precious, loving, kind, sweet, intolerably fair lady Thamasta commends to your little hands this letter of importance. By your leave, let me first kiss, and then deliver it in fashion, to your own proper beauty.

Delivers a letter. Cleo. To me, from her ? 't is strange! I dare

[Reads. Cuc. Good. O, that I had not resolved to live a single life! Here's temptation, able to conjure up a spirit with a witness. So, so! she has read it. Cleo. Is 't possible? Heaven, thou art great and

bountiful. Sir, I much thank your pains; and to the princess, Let my love, duty, service be remember'd.

Cuc. They shall, mad-dam.

peruse it.

1 The allusion is to a character in Ben Jonson's Bartholomew Fair.

Cleo. When we of hopes, or helps are quite be

reaven, Our humble prayers have entrance into heaven. Cuc. That's my opinion clearly and without doubt.


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A Room in the Palace.

Enter ARETUS and SOPHRONOS. Are. The prince is thoroughly mov'd.

Soph. I never saw him So much distemper'd.

Are. What should this young man be?
Or whither can he be convey'd ?

Soph. 'Tis to me
A mystery; I understand it not.

Are. Nor I.

Enter PALADOR, AMETHUS, and Pelias.
Pal. You have consented all to work upon
The softness of my nature; but take heed:
Though I can sleep in silence, and look on
The mockery you make of my dull patience,
Yet you shall know, the best of ye, that in me
There is a masculine, a stirring spirit,
Which [once) provok'd, shall, like a bearded comet,
Set ye at gaze, and threaten horror.

Pel. Good sir.
Pal. Good sir! 't is not your active, wit or lan-

guage, Nor your grave politic wisdoms, lords, shall dare To check-mate, and control my just demands.

Enter MENAPHON. Where is the youth, your friend? Is he found yet?

Men. Not to be heard of.

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