Liege people, and rear golden piles, are trash Are cured in less time than a pair of minutes: Mel. Sirrah, make ready. Cor. Yet do not be so sudden; grant me leave Snatch'd from me in her youth, a handsome girl; Mel. Pray, where is she? I cannot see her yet. Cor. She makes more haste In her quick prayers than her trembling steps, Mel. Cruel man! How canst thou rip a heart that's cleft already As balls of wildfire may be safely touch'd, 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 reclaim'd 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, Mel. If thou canst wake with me, forget to eat, Done long ago, and ill done; and, when sighs And we will sit together, like true friends, Cor. What new crotchet next? There is so much sense in this wild distraction, To see and hear him: some few hours more Re-enter MELEANDER with CLEOPHILA. Mel. In all the volumes thou hast turn'd, thou man Of knowledge, hast thou met with any rarity, The model of the heavens, the earth, the waters, 1 Strike all comparison into a silence. 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. We are a pair of things the world doth laugh at. 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. 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, tosspot? Gril. Toss-pot? O, 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,1 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. whom? What, and from Cuc. There you come to me. O, 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 peruse it. [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, 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. [Exeunt. SCENE III. A Room in the Palace. Enter ARETUS and SOPHRONOS. Are. The prince is thoroughly mov'd. 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. Enter PALADOR, AMETHUS, and PELIAS. Which [once] provok'd, shall, like a bearded comet, Pel. Good sir. Pal. Good sir! 't is not your active, wit or language, Nor your grave politic wisdoms, lords, shall dare Enter MENAPHON. Where is the youth, your friend? Is he found yet? Men. Not to be heard of. |