As modest and as hopeless, as the trust Amet. I will esteem him dearly. Tha. Servant, I have employment for you. The mask of your ambition is fallen off; Your pride hath stoop'd to such an abject lowness, That you have now discover'd to report Your nakedness in virtue, honours, shame,- Amet. All the flatteries Of greatness have expos'd you to contempt. Amet. You have sold your birth For lust. Tha. Lust! Amet. Yes; and, at a dear expense, Purchased the only glories of a wanton. Tha. A wanton! Amet. Let repentance stop your mouth: Learn to redeem your fault.1 Kala. I hope your tongue Has not betray'd my honesty. [Aside to MEN. Tha. If, Menaphon, I hitherto have strove Which my discretion and your service aim'd 1 It is evident, from what follows, in a subsequent scene, that this warmth of language is merely affected by Amethus, for the purpose of intimidating his sister, and by dint of overpowering her supposed coquetry, surprising her into an avowal of her attachment to his friend.-GIFFORD. VOL. I.-9 Men. Great mistress, no: I rather quarrel with mine own ambition, That durst to soar so high, as to feed hope My duty to a pension from your favours. Amet. And therefore, lady (pray observe him well), He henceforth covets plain equality; Endeavouring to rank his fortunes low, With some fit partner, whom, without presumption, Yes, and command too, as a wife; a wife; Kala. All will out. [Aside. Tha. Now I perceive the league of amity, Which you have long between you vow'd and kept, Is sacred and inviolable; secrets Of every nature are in common to you. I have trespassed, and I have been faulty; There is no trust in female cunning, friend. Men. Pray, love your fame. [Exeunt MEN. and AMET. Tha. Gone! I am sure awak'd. Kala, I find You have not been so trusty as the duty You owed required. Kala. Not I? I do protest I have been, madam. Tha. Be-no matter what! I am paid in mine own coin; something I must, And speedily.-So!-seek out Cuculus, Kala. That antic! The trim old youth shall wait you. Tha. Wounds may be mortal, which are wounds indeed; But no wound's deadly, till our honours bleed. [Exeunt. SCENE II. A Room in the Castle. Enter RHETIAS and CORAX. Rhe. Thou art an excellent fellow. Diabolo! O these empirics, that will undertake all cures, yet know not the causes of any disease! Dog-leeches! By the four elements I honour thee; could find in my heart to turn knave, and be thy flatterer. Cor. Sirrah, 't is pity thou 'dst not been a scholar; Thou'rt honest, blunt, and rude enough, o' conscience! But for thy lord now,-I have put him to 't. Rhe. He chafes hugely, fumes like a stew-pot; is he not monstrously overgone in phrensy? Cor. Rhetias, 't is not a madness, but his sorrows Rhe. Corax, to praise thy art, were to assure 1 't was a prince's tyranny Caused his distraction, &c.] Here again poor Corax has just stumbled on what the prince had discovered long before: never, surely, was reputation so cheaply obtained as by this compound of fool and physician.-GIFFORD. The light of thy rare knowledge. Henceforth casting [Exit. Cor. Farewell!-A shrewd-brain'd fellow; there is pith In his untoward plainness.-Now, the news? Enter TROLLIO, with a morion' on. Trol. Worshipful master doctor, I have a great deal of I cannot tell what, to say to you. My lord thunders, every word that comes out of his mouth roars like a cannon; the house shook once;-my young lady dares not be seen. Cor. We will roar with him, Trollio, if he roar. Trol. He has got a great pole-axe in his hand, and fences it up and down the house, as if he were to make room for the pageants. I have provided me a morion for fear of a clap on the coxcomb. Mel. [within.] So ho, so ho! Trol. There, there, there! look to your right worshipful, look to yourself. Enter MELEANDER with a pole-axe. Mel. Show me the dog, whose triple-throated noise Hath rous'd a lion from his uncouth den, To tear the cur in pieces. Cor. [Putting on a frightful mask, and turning to MEL.] Stay thy paws, Courageous beast; else, lo! the Gorgon's scull, 1 Morion.] A headpiece, a helmet.-GIFFORD. 2 To make room for the pageants.] An allusion to the city-officers, who headed the shows on the Lord Mayor's day, and opened the passage for the maskers. They must have found occasion for all their fencing, if the fierce curiosity of the citizens be considered, and the state of the public streets.-GIFFORD. That shall transform thee to that restless stone, Have spun my thread, and my spent clew of life [Exit, with the pole-axe. Mel. This friend and I will walk, and gabble wisely. Cor. I allow the motion; on! [Takes off his mask. That with their crabbed faces, and sly tricks, Cor. Then they fill Lordships; steal women's hearts; with them and theirs The world runs round; yet these are square men still.1 Mel. There are none poor, but such as engross offices. Cor. None wise, but unthrifts, bankrupts, beggars, rascals. Mel. The hangman is a rare physician. Cor. That's not so good;-Aside.]—it shall be granted. Mel. All The buzz of drugs, and minerals, and simples, 1 The world turns round; yet these are square men still.] The play of words between round and square is not of a very exquisite kind, but it does well enough for Corax. By square he means just, unimpeachable.-GIFFORD. |