« PreviousContinue »
Rhe. And thou art his forerunner!
Pel. Prithee, hear me. Instead of a fine guarded' page we have got him A boy, trick'd up in neat and handsome fashion; Persuaded him, that 't is indeed a wench, And he has entertain'd him; he does follow him, Carries his sword and buckler, waits on's trencher, Fills him his wine, tobacco; whets his knife, Lackeys his letters, does what service else He would employ his man in. Being ask'd Why he is so irregular in courtship, His answer is, that since great ladies use Gentlemen-ushers, to go bare before them, He knows no reason, but he may reduce The courtiers to have women wait on them; And he begins the fashion: he is laughed at Most complimentally.—Thou'lt burst to see him. Enter Cuculus followed by GRILLA, both fantastically
Cuc. Reach me my sword and buckler.
Cuc. How now, minx, how now! where is your duty, your distance ? Let me have service methodically tendered; you are now one of us. Your courtesy. (GRILLA courtesies.] Good, remember that you are to practise courtship. Was thy father a piper, say'st thou?
Gril. A sounder of some such instrument, forsooth.
Cuc. Was he so ?-hold up thy head. Be thou musical to me, and I will marry thee to a dancer; one that shall ride on his footcloth, and maintain thee in thy muff and hood.
1 Instead of a fine guarded page,] i. e. of a page with a livery richly laced, or turned up.-Gifford.
2 Courtship.] The behaviour necessary to be observed at court; the manners of a courtier.-STEEVENS.
Gril. That will be fine indeed.
Cuc. I have a brain; I have a headpiece: o'my conscience, if I take pains with thee, I should raise thy understanding, girl, to the height of a nurse, or a court-midwife at least.
Gril. E’en do your pleasure with me, sir.
Pel. (coming forward.] Noble, accomplished Cuculus !
Rhe. Give me thy fist, innocent.
Pel. That's well; he's an honest blade, though he be blunt.
Cuc. Who cares! We can be as blunt as he, for his life,
Corax passes over the Stage. Pel. Corax, the prince's chief physician! What business speeds his haste ?--Are all things
well, sir? Cor. Yes, yes, yes.
Rhe. Phew! you may wheel about, man; we know you are proud of your slovenry and practice; 't is
The prince's melancholy fit, I presume, holds still.
Cor. So do thy knavery and desperate beggary. Cuc. Aha! here's one will tickle the bandog. Rhe. You must not go yet.
Cor. I'll stay in spite of thy teeth. There lies my gravity. Throws off his gown.]-Do what thou dar'st; I stand thee.
Rhe. Thou art in thy religion an atheist, in thy
1 There lies my gravity (throws off his gown).) Thus Prospero, when he throws off his mantle, exclaims,
“Lie there, my art." And Fuller tells us that the great Lord Burleigh, when he put off his gown at night, used to say,
"Lie there Lord Treasurer. "-GIFFORD,
condition a cur, in thy diet an epicure, in thy sleep a hog; thou tak’st upon thee the habit of a grave physician, but art indeed an impostorous' empiric.
Cuc. To 't, to 't! hold him to 't! hold him to 't! to't, to't, to't.
Cor. The best worth in thee is the corruption of thy mind: a thing bred out of the filth and superfluity of ill humours. Thou art fortune's idiot, virtue's bankrupt, mạnhood's scandal, and thine own scourge. Thou wouldst hang thyself, so wretchedly miserable thou art, but that no man will trust thee with as much money as will buy a halter; and all thy stock to be sold is not worth half as much as may procure it.
Řhe. Ha, ha, ha! this is flattery, gross flattery.
Cor. I have employment for thee, and for ye all. Tut! these are but good-morrows between us. I'll shape ye all for a device before the prince; we'll try how that can move him.
Rhe. He shall fret or laugh.
Cor. Come all into my chamber; the project is cast; the time only we must atiend.
Rhe. The melody must agree well and yield sport, When such as these are, knaves and fools, consort.
An Apartment in the House of THAMASTA.
Enter AMETHUS, THAMASTA, and KALA.
1 j. 6. deceitful, cheating.
Amet. Not like a lady of the trim, new crept
Tha. Then you conclude me proud ?
Amet. Young Menaphon,
Tha. You are bitter;
heart's saint, Cleophila, a virgin
Tha. I have given
1 Not kindly wise,) i. e. your wisdom has not the natural tenderness
of a brother in it. --GIFFORD.
For his sake entertain'd Parthenophill,
Amet. No more, no more! be affable to both;
Tha. I pity The youth; and, trust me, brother, love his sadHe talks the prettiest stories; he delivers His tales so gracefully, that I could sit And listen, nay, forget my meals and sleep, To hear his neat discourses. Menaphon Was well advis'd in choosing such a friend For pleading his true love.
Amet. Now I commend thee; Thou 'lt change at last, I hope.
Enter MENAPHON and PARTHENOPHILL. Tha. I fear I shall.
(Aside. Amet. Have you survey'd the garden ?
Men. "Tis a curious,
Tha. Your eye, sir,
Par. Not any, lady.
Men. It were impossible, since your fair pres. Makes every place, where it vouchsafes to shine, More lovely than all other helps of art Can equal.
Tha. What you mean by “helps of art," You know yourself best; be they as they are ; You need none, I am sure, to set me forth. Men. ’T would argue want of manners, more than
skill, Not to praise praise itself.