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There's some ill blood about him, if the surgeon
Have not been very skilful to let all out.

Cleo. I am, alas! too griev'd to think of love;
That must concern me least.

Mel. Sirrah, be wise! be wise!

RHETIAS. Trol. Whọ, I? I will be monstrous and wise immediately.-Welcome, gentlemen ; the more the merrier. I'll lay the cloth, and set the stools in a readiness, for I see here is some hope of dinner now.

[Exit. Amet. My lord Meleander, Menaphon, your kins

man, Newly return'd from travel, comes to tender His duty to you; to you his love, fair mistress.

Men. I would I could as easily remove Sadness from your remembrance, sir, as study To do you faithful service.—My dear cousin, All best of comforts bless your sweet obedience! Cleo. One chief of them, [my] worthy cousin,

In you, and your well-doing.

Men. This young stranger
Will well deserve your knowledge.

Amet. For my friend's sake,
Lady, pray give him welcome.

Cleo. He has met it,
If sorrows can look kindly.

Par. You much honour me.

Rhe. How he eyes the company! sure my passion will betray my weakness.- my master, my noble master, do not forget me; I am still the humblest, and the most faithful in heart of those that serve you.

(Aside. Mel. Ha, ha, ha!

Rhe. There's wormwood in that laughter; 't is the usher to a violent extremity.


Mel. I am a weak old man. All these are come To jeer my ripe calamities. Men. Good uncle! Mel. But I'll outstare ye all: fools, desperate

fools! You are cheated, grossly cheated; range, range on, And roll about the world to gather moss, The moss of honour, gay reports, gay clothes, Gay wives, huge empty buildings, whose proud

roofs Shall with their pinnacles even reach the stars ! Ye work and work like blind moles, in the paths That are bored thro’ the crannies of the earth, To charge your hungry souls with such full surfeits, As, being gorg'd once, make you lean with plenty ; And when you have skimm’d the vomit of your

You are fat in no felicity but folly:
Then your last sleeps seize on you; then the troops
Of worms crawl round, and feast, good cheer, rich

Dainty, delicious !-Here's Cleophila;
All the poor stock of my remaining thrift:
You, you, the prince's cousin, how d’ye like her?
Amethus, how d' ye like her?

Amet. My intents
Are just and honourable.

Men. Sir, believe him.
Mel. Take her !—We two must part ; go to

him, do.
Par. This sight is full of horror.

Rhe. There is sense yet In this distraction.

Mel. In this jewel I have given away All what I can call mine. When I am dead, Save charge; let me be buried in a nook; No guns, no pompous whining: these are fooleries. If, while we live, we stalk about the streets Jostled by carmen, foot-posts, and fine apes

In silken coats, unminded and scarce thought on;
It is not comely to be haled' to the earth,
Like high-fed jades upon a tilting-day,
In antic trappings. Scorn to useless tears!
Eroclea was not coffin'd so: she perishid,
And no eye dropp'd save mine—and I am childish;
I talk like one that dotes; laugh at me, Rhetias,
Or rail at me.—They will not give me meat,
They have starv'd me: but I'ls henceforth be mine

own cook.
Good-morrow! 't is too early for my cares
To revel; I will break my heart a little,
And tell ye more hereafter. Pray be merry. (Exit.

Rhe. I'll follow him. My lord Amethus, use your time respectively; few words to purpose soonest prevail : study no long orations; be plain and short. Í 'll follow him.

Amet. Cleophila, although these blacker clouds
Of sadness thicken and make dark the sky
Of thy fair eyes, yet give me leave to follow
The stream of my affections; they are pure,
Without all mixture of unnoble thoughts:
Can you be ever mine?

Cleo. I am so low
In mine own fortunes, and my father's woes,
That I want words to tell you, you deserve
A worthier choice.

Amet. But give me leave to hope.
Men. My friend is serious.

Cleo. Sir, this for answer. If I ever thrive
In any earthly happiness, the next
To my good father's wish'd recovery,
Must be my thankfulness to your great merit,
Which I dare promise :--for the present time,
You cannot urge more from me.

Mel. [within.] Ho, Cleophila! 1 Haled to the earth,] i. e. drawn to the grave. The allusion is to the pomp and parade of a funeral procession, and to the rich heraldic trophies with which the hearse was covered.-GIFFORD.

Cleo. This gentleman is mov'd.

Amet. Your eyes, Parthenophill,
Are guilty of some passion.

Men. Friend, what ails thee?
Par. All is not well within me, sir.
Mel. [within.] Cleophila!
Amet. Sweet maid, forget me not; we now must

Cleo. Still you shall have my prayer.
Amet. Still you my truth.



A Room in the Palace. Enter Cuculus and Grilla, the former in a black

velvet cap, and a white feather, with a paper in his hand.

Cuc. Do not I look freshly, and like a youth of the trim ?

Gril. As rare an old youth as ever walked crossgartered.

Cuc. Here are my mistresses, mustered in white and black. [Reads.] “Kala, the waiting-woman.” I will first begin at the foot: stand thou for Kala.

Gril. I stand for Kala.

Cuc. I must look big, and care little or nothing for her, because she is a creature that stands at livery. Thus I talk wisely and to no purpose.

“ Wench, as it is not fit that thou shouldst be either fair or honest, so, considering thy service, thou art as thou art, and so are thy betters, let them be what they can be. Thus, in despite and defiance of all thy good parts, if I cannot endure thy baseness, 't is more out of thy courtesy than my deserving; and so I expect thy answer."

Gril. I must confess
Cuc. Well said.

Gril. You are
Cuc. That's true too.
Gril. To speak you right, a very scurvy fellow.
Cuc. Away, away!-dost think so?
Gril. A very foul-mouth'd and misshapen cox-

comb. Cuc. This shall serve well enough for the waitingwoman. My next mistress is Cleophila, the old madman's daughter. I must come to her in whining tune; sigh, wipe mine eyes, fold my arms, and blubber out my speech as thus: “Even as a kennel of hounds, sweet lady, cannot catch a hare"

Enter PeliaS and Corax.
Pel. In amorous contemplation, on my life;
Courting his page, by Helicon!

Cuc. 'Tis false.

Gril. A gross untruth: I'll justify it, sir, At any time, place, weapon.

Cuc. Marry, shall she.

Cor. No quarrels, goody Whiske! lay by your trumperies, and fall to your practice: instructions are ready for you all. Pelias is your leader, follow him; get credit now or never. Vanish, doodles, vanish!

Cuc. For the device? Cor. The same; get ye gone, and make no bawl. ing.

(Exeunt all but CORAX. To waste my time thus, drone-like, in the court, And lose so many hours, as my studies Have hoarded up, is to be like a man That creeps both on his hands and knees to climb A mountain's top; where, when he is ascended, One careless slip down-tumbles him again Into the bottom, whence he first began. I need no prince's favour; princes need My art: then, Corax, be no more a gull, The best of 'em cannot fool thee; nay, they shall


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