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?

In mine own fortunes and my father's woes,
That I want words to tell ye 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 wished 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]

Friend, what ails thee?

Cleophila !

Amet. Sweet maid, forget me not; we now must part.

Cleo. Still you shall have my prayer.

Amet.

SCENE 1.-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.

UC. Do not I look freshly, and like a

youth of the trim?

Gril. As rare an old youth as ever

walked cross-gartered.

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; do your best and your worst. 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, 'tis more out of thy courtesy than my deserving; and so I expect thy answer.

Gril. To speak you right, a very scurvy fellow.

Cuc, Away, away!-dost think so?

Gril. A very foul-mouthed and misshapen coxcomb. Cuc. I'll never believe it, by this hand.

Gril. A maggot, most unworthy to creep in
To the least wrinkle of a gentlewoman's-
What d'ye call-good conceit, or so, or what
You will else, were you not refined by courtship
And education, which in my blear eyes

Makes you appear as sweet as any nosegay,

Or savoury cod of musk new fall'n from the cat.

woman.

Cuc. This shall serve well enough for the waitingMy 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 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 loudmouthed cannon of mine own to batter her, and a penned speech of purpose: observe it.

Gril. Thus I walk by, hear, and mind you not.

Cuc. [Reads] "Though haughty as the devil or his dam Thou dost appear, great mistress, yet I am

1 Tumult.

Like to an ugly firework, and can mount
Above the region of thy sweet ac—

-count.

Wert thou the moon herself, yet having seen thee, Behold the man ordained to move within thee." Look to yourself, housewife! answer me in strong lines, you're best.

Gril. Keep off, poor fool, my beams will strike thee blind;

Else, if thou touch me, touch me but behind.
In palaces, such as pass in before

Must be great princes; for at the back-door
Tatterdemalions wait, who know not how
To get admittance; such a one--art thou.
Cuc. 'Sfoot, this is downright roaring.

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 anything; 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.

Enter PELIAS and CORAX.

Pel. In amorous contémplation, 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 Whisk! 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!

1 The quarrelsome language of the bullies of the day.

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
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 not.

Enter SOPHRONOS and AREtus.

Soph. We find him timely now; let's learn the cause.
Arc. 'Tis fit we should.—Sir, we approve you learned.
And, since your skill can best discern the humours
That are predominant in bodies subject

To alteration, tell us, pray, what devil
This Melancholy is, which can transform.
Men into monsters.

Cor.

You're yourself a scholar,

And quick of apprehension. Melancholy
Is not, as you conceive, indisposition

Of body, but the mind's disease. So Ecstasy,
Fantastic Dotage, Madness, Frenzy, Rapture
Of mere imagination, differ partly

From Melancholy;1 which is briefly this,
A mere commotion of the mind, o'ercharged
With fear and sorrow; first begot i' the brain,
The seat of reason, and from thence derived
As suddenly into the heart, the seat

Of our affection.

1 Vide (Ford says) Democritus Junior. He is alluding to Burton's Anatomy of Melancholy.