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

dressed.
Look, look, he comes' observe him seriously.

Cuc. Reach me my sword and buckler.
Gril. They are here, forsooth.

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.
Cric. Thou art yet but simple.
Gril. Do you think so?

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.
Cuc. Would 't were in thy belly! there 't is.

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

your virtue.

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.
Cuc. Must I make one ?
Cor. Yes, and your feminine page too.
Gril. Thanks, most egregiously.
Pel. I will not slack my part.
Cuc. Wench, take my buckler.

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.

(Exeunt.

SCENE III.

An Apartment in the House of THAMASTA.

Enter AMETHUS, THAMASTA, and KALA.
Amet. Does this show well ?
Tha. What would you have me do ?

1 j. 6. deceitful, cheating.

Amet. Not like a lady of the trim, new crept
Into the glittring pomp of ease and wantonness,
Embroideries, and all these antic fashions,
That shape a woman monstrous; to transform
Your education, and a noble birth,
Into contempt and laughter. Sister! sister!
She who derives her blood from princes, ought
To glorify her greatness by humility.

Tha. Then you conclude me proud ?

Amet. Young Menaphon,
My worthy friend, has loved you long and truly:
To witness his obedience to your scorn,
Twelve months, wrong'd gentleman, he undertook
A voluntary exile. Wherefore, sister,
In this time of his absence, have you not
Disposed of your affections on some monarch?
Or sent ambassadors to some neighb'ring king
With fawning protestations of your graces,
Your rare perfections, admirable beauty ?
This had been a new piece of modesty,
Would have deserv'd a chronicle !

Tha. You are bitter;
And, brother, by your leave, not kindly wise.'
My freedom is my birth; I am not bound
To fancy your approvements, but my own.
Indeed, you are an humble youth! I hear of
Your visits, and your loving commendation

heart's saint, Cleophila, a virgin
Of rare excellence. What though she want
A portion to maintain a portly greatness!
Yet 't is your gracious sweetness to descend
So low; the meekness of your pity leads you!
She is your dear friend's sister! a good soul !
An innocent!

Amet. Thamasta!

Tha. I have given
Your Menaphon a welcome home, as fits me;

1 Not kindly wise,) i. e. your wisdom has not the natural tenderness

To your

of a brother in it. --GIFFORD.

ness:

For his sake entertain'd Parthenophill,
The handsome stranger, more familiarly
Than, I may fear, becomes me; yet, for his part,
I not repent my courtesies: but you,

Amet. No more, no more! be affable to both;
Time may reclaim your cruelty.

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,
A pleasantly contriv'd delight.

Tha. Your eye, sir,
Hath in your travels often met contents
Of more variety?

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.

VOL. 1.-6

ence