There's some ill blood about him, if the surgeon Cleo. I am, alas! too griev'd to think of love; Mel. Sirrah, be wise! be wise! Enter AMETHUS, MENAPHON, PARTHENOPHILL, and RHETIAS. Trol. Who, 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 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. If sorrows can look kindly. Par. You much honour me. Rhe. How he eyes the company! sure my passion will betray my weakness.-O 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. [Aside, Mel. I am a weak old man. All these are come To jeer my ripe calamities. 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, Shall with their pinnacles even reach the stars! 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 fare, Dainty, delicious!-Here's Cleophila ; All the poor stock of my remaining thrift: 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, No guns, no pompous whining: these are fooleries. In silken coats, unminded and scarce thought on; And no eye dropp'd save mine-and I am childish; Good-morrow! 'tis too early for my cares And tell ye more hereafter. Pray be merry. [Exit. Cleo. I am so low In mine own fortunes, and my father's woes, Amet. But give me leave to hope. 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, 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. Par. All is not well within me, sir. Amet. Sweet maid, forget me not; we now must part. Cleo. Still you shall have my prayer. Amet. Still you my truth. ACT III. SCENE I. A Room in the Palace. [Exeunt. 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- Gril. You are Cuc. That's true too. Gril. To speak you right, a very scurvy fellow. Gril. A very foul-mouth'd and misshapen coxcomb. 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 bawling. [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 The best of 'em cannot fool thee; nay, they shall not. |