Mel. Cleophila !

Cleo. Sir, I am here; how do you, sir?

Mel. The raven croak'd, and hollow shrieks of owls

Sung dirges at her funeral; I laugh'd

The while, for 't was no boot to weep. The girl
Was fresh and full of youth; but, oh! the cunning
Of tyrants, that look big! their very frowns
Doom poor souls guilty ere their cause be heard.—
Good! what art thou? and thou?

Cleo. I am Cleophila, Your woful daughter. Trol. I am Trollio,

Your honest implement.

Mel. I know you both. 'Las, why d' ye use me thus?

Thy sister, my Eroclea, was so gentle,

That turtles in their down do feed more gall,

Than her spleen mix'd with :—yet, when winds and

storm

Drive dirt and dust on banks of spotless snow,
The purest whiteness is no such defence
Against the sullying foulness of that fury.
So raved Agenor, that great man, mischief
Against the girl-'t was a politic trick!
We were too old in honour.-I am lean,
And fall'n away extremely; most assuredly
I have not dined these three days.

Cleo. Will you now, sir?

Trol. I beseech you heartily, sir.
Mel. Am I stark mad?

Trol. No, no, you are but a little staring-there's difference between staring and stark mad. You are but whimsied yet; crotcheted, conundrumed, or so. [Aside.

Mel. Here's all my care; and I do often sigh
For thee, Cleophila; we are secluded
From all good people. But take heed; Amethus
Was son to Doryla, Agenor's sister;

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!

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
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,
lives

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.-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!

[Aside.

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
riots,

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:

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 perish'd,

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'll 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.
I'll follow him.
[Exit.
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

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. 66 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