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, when they are full paunched on the carrion of a dead horse; so, even so the gorge of my affections, being full crammed with the garboils of your condolements, doth tickle me with the prick (as it were) about me, and fellow-feeling of howling outright." Gril. This will do't, if we will hear." Cuc. Thou seest I am crying ripe, I am such another tender-hearted fool. Gril." Even as the snuff of a candle that is burnt in the socket goes out, and leaves a strong perfume behind it; or as a piece of toasted cheese next the heart in a morning, is a restorative for a sweet breath: so, even so the odoriferous savour of your love doth perfume my heart (heigh ho!) with the pure scent of an intolerable content, and not to be endured." Cuc. By this hand 'tis excellent! Have at thee, last of all, for the Princess Thamasta, she that is my mistress indeed. She is abominably proud, a lady of a damnable high, turbulent, and generous spirit; but I have a loud-mouth'd cannon of mine own to batter her, and a penned speech of purpose observe it. If we will hear.] Probably a misprint for she. If Grilla answered in the name of Cleophila, we had already heard. Gril. Thus I walk by, hear and mind you not. Cuc. [reads] "Tho' haughty as the devil or his dam, Thou dost appear, great mistress; yet I am Gril. Keep off, poor fool, my beams will strike thee blind; Else, if thou touch me, touch me but behind. Must be great princes; for, at the back door, Gril. I know how to present a big lady in her own cue.—But pray, in earnest, are you in love with all these? Cuc. Pish! I have not a rag of love about me; 'tis only a foolish humour I am possessed with, to be surnamed the Conqueror. I will court any thing; be in love with nothing, nor no-thing, Gril. A rare man you are, I protest. Cuc. Yes, I know I am a rare man, and I ever held myself so. This is downright roaring.] i. c. the language of bullies, affecting a quarrel. See Jonson, vol. iv. p. 483. 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? bawling. Cor. The same; get ye gone, and make no [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. Enter SOPHRONOS and ARETUS. Soph. We find him timely now; let's learn the cause. Are. 'Tis fit we should.-Sir, we approve you learn'd, And, since your skill can best discern the humours To alteration; tell us, pray, what devil Cor. You are yourself a scholar, From Melancholy; which is briefly this, Are. There are sundry kinds 2 « Vide," Ford says, "Democritus Junior." He alludes to the Anatomy of Melancholy, by Robert Burton; from which not only what is here said, but the descriptions and personifications of the various affections of the mind in the Interlude (scene iii.) are imitated, or rather copied; for the poet has added little or nothing of his own, to what he found in that popular volume. To say the truth, the stupendous and undistinguishing diligence of our "Democritus the Younger" almost precluded the possibility of adding to any topic which he had previously made the object of his researches. I omitted to observe that the anecdote of the " sow-pig that sucked a brach," p. 22. is taken from that writer, who found it in Giraldus Cambrensis. Cor. Infinite: it were More easy to conjecture every hour We have to live, than reckon up the kinds, Soph. Thus you conclude, that, as the cause is doubtful, The cure must be impossible; and then Our prince, poor gentleman, is lost for ever, Cor. My lord, you are too quick; thus much I dare Promise and do; ere many minutes pass, Soph. For reward You shall make your own demand. Cor. May I be sure? Are. We both will pledge our truth. Cor. 'Tis soon perform'd. That I may be discharged from my attendance Cor. I'll acquaint you With what is to be done; and you shall fashion it. [Exeunt. |