for a knight, you know how, before God I am haunted with some the most
pittyfull dry gallants.
_Asini._ Troth so I think; good peeces of lantskip, shew best a far off.
_Hor._ I, I, I, excellent sumpter horses, carry good cloaths; but |395|
honest roague, come, what news, what newes abroad? I haue heard a the
horses walking a’ th top of Paules.
_Asi._ Ha ye? why the Captain Tucca rayles vpon you most preposterously
behinde your backe, did you not heare him?
_Ho._ A pox vpon him: by the white & soft hand of _Minerua_, Ile
|400| make him the most ridiculous: dam me if I bring not’s humor ath
stage: &--scuruy lymping tongu’d captaine, poor greasie buffe Ierkin,
hang him: tis out of his Element to traduce me: I am too well ranckt
_Asinius_ to bee stab’d with his dudgion wit: sirra, Ile compose an
Epigram vpon him, shall goe thus--
|405| _Asi._ Nay I ha more news, ther’s Crispinus & his Iorneyman Poet
Demetrius Faninus too, they sweare they’ll bring your life & death
vpon’th stage like a Bricklayer in a play.
_Hor._ Bubo they must presse more valiant wits than theyr own to do
it: me ath stage? ha, ha. Ile starue their poore copper-lace |410|
workmasters, that dare play me: I can bring (& that they quake at)
a prepar’d troope of gallants, who for my sake shal distaste euery
vnsalted line, in their fly-blowne Comedies.
_Asi._ Nay that’s certaine, ile bring 100. gallants of my ranke.
_Hor._ That same Crispinus is the silliest Dor, and Faninus the |415|
slightest cob-web-lawne peece of a Poet, oh God!
Why should I care what euery Dor doth buz
In credulous eares, it is a crowne to me,
That the best iudgements can report me wrong’d.
_Asi._ I am one of them that can report it.
|420| _Hor._ I thinke but what they are, and am not moou’d.
The one a light voluptuous Reueler,
The other, a strange arrogating puffe,
Both impudent, and arrogant enough.
_Asin._ S’lid do not Criticus Reuel in these lynes, ha Ningle ha?
|425| _Knocking._
_Hor._ Yes, they’re mine owne.
_Cris._ Horrace.
_Dem._ Flaccus.
_Cris._ Horrace, not vp yet.
|430| _Hor._ Peace, tread softly, hyde my Papers; who’s this so early?
Some of my rookes, some of my guls?
_Cris._ Horrace, Flaccus.
_Hor._ Who’s there? stray, treade softly: _Wat Terill_ on my life:
who’s there? my gowne sweete roague, so, come vp, come in.
|435| _Enter_ Crispinus _and_ Demetrius.
_Cris._ God morrow Horrace.
_Hor._ O, God saue you gallants.
_Cris._ _Asinius_ Bubo well met.
_Asin._ Nay, I hope so Crispinus, yet I was sicke a quarter of a |440|
yeare a goe of a vehement great tooth-atch: a pox ont, it bit me vilye,
as God sa me la I knew twas you by your knocking so soone as I saw you;
Demetrius Fannius, wil you take a whiffe this morning? I haue tickling
geare now, heer’s that will play with your nose, and a pype of mine
owne scowring too.
|445| _Dem._ I, and a Hodgshead too of your owne, but that will neuer
be scowred cleane I feare.
_Asin._ I burnt my pype yesternight, and twas neuer vsde since, if you
will tis at your seruice gallants, and Tobacco too, tis right pudding
I can tell you; a Lady or two, tooke a pype full or two |450| at my
hands, and praizde it for the Heauens, shall I fill Flannius?
_Dem._ I thanke you good Asinius for your loue,
I sildome take that Phisicke, tis enough
Hauing so much foole to take him in snuffe.
|455| _Hor._ Good Bubo read some booke, and giue vs leaue....
_As._ Leaue haue you deare Ningle, marry for reading any book Ile take
my death vpont (as my Ningle sayes) tis out of my Elemēt: no faith,
euer since I felt one hit me ith teeth that the greatest Clarkes are
not the wisest men, could I abide to goe to |460| Schoole, I was at
_As in presenti_ and left there: yet because Ile not be counted a worse
foole then I am, Ile turne ouer a new leafe.
Asinius _reads and takes Tabacco_.
_Hor._ To see my fate, that when I dip my pen
In distilde Roses, and doe striue to dreine,
|465| Out of myne Inke all gall; that when I wey
Each sillable I write or speake, because
Mine enemies with sharpe and searching eyes
Looke through & through me, caruing my poore labours
Like an Anotomy: Oh heauens to see,
|470| That when my lines are measur’d out as straight
As euen Paralels, tis strange that still,
Still some imagine they are drawne awry.
The error is not mine, but in theyr eye,
That cannot take proportions.
|475| _Cris._ Horrace, Horrace,
To stand within the shot of galling tongues,
Proues not your gilt, for could we write on paper,
Made of these turning leaues of heauen, the cloudes,
Or speake with Angels tongues: yet wise men know,
|480| That some would shake the head, tho Saints should sing,
Some snakes must hisse, because they’re borne with stings.
_Hor._ Tis true.
_Cris._ Doe we not see fooles laugh at heauen? and mocke
The Makers workmanship; be not you grieu’d
|485| If that which you molde faire, vpright and smooth,
Be skrwed awry, made crooked, lame and vile,
By racking coments, and calumnious tongues,
So to be bit it rankcles not: for innocence
May with a feather brush off the foulest wrongs.
|490| But when your dastard wit will strike at men
In corners, and in riddles folde the vices
Of your best friends, you must not take to heart,
If they take off all gilding from their pilles,
And onely offer you the bitter Coare.
|495| _Hor._ Crispinus.
_Cri._ Say that you haue not sworne vnto your Paper,
To blot her white cheekes with the dregs and bottome
Of your friends priuate vices: say you sweare
Your loue and your aleageance to bright vertue
|500| Makes you descend so low, as to put on
The Office of an Executioner,
Onely to strike off the swolne head of sinne,
Where ere you finde it standing,
Say you sweare;
|505| And make damnation parcell of your oath,
That when your lashing iestes make all men bleed;
Yet you whip none. Court, Citty, country, friends,
Foes, all must smart alike; yet Court, nor Citty,
Nor foe, nor friend, dare winch at you; great pitty.
|510| _Dem._ If you sweare, dam me Faninus, or Crispinus,
Or to the law (_Our kingdomes golden chaine_)
To Poets dam me, or to Players dam me,
If I brand you, or you, tax you, scourge you:
I wonder then, that of fiue hundred: foure
|515| Should all point with their fingers in one instant
At one and the same man?
_Hor._ Deare Faninus.
_Dem._ Come, you cannot excuse it.
_Hor._ Heare me, I can--
|520| _Dem._ You must daube on thicke collours then to hide it.
_Cris._ We come like your Phisitions, to purge
Your sicke and daungerous minde of her disease.
_Dem._ In troth we doe, out of our loues we come,
And not reuenge, but if you strike vs still,
|525| We must defend our reputations:
Our pens shall like our swords be alwayes sheath’d,
Vnlesse too much prouockt, Horace if then
They draw bloud of you, blame vs not, we are men:
Come, let thy Muse beare vp a smoother sayle,
|530| Tis the easiest and the basest Arte to raile.
_Hor._ Deliuer me your hands, I loue you both,
As deare as my owne soule, prooue me, and when
I shall traduce you, make me the scorne of men.
_Both._ Enough, we are friends.
|535| _Cri._ What reads Asinius?
_Asi._ By my troth heer’s an excellent comfortable booke, it’s most
sweet reading in it.
_Dem._ Why, what does it smell of Bubo?
_Asi._ Mas it smels of Rose-leaues a little too.
|540| _Hor._ Then it must needs be a sweet booke, he would faine
perfume his ignorance.
_Asi._ I warrant he had wit in him that pen’d it.
_Cris._ Tis good yet a foole will confesse truth.
_Asi._ The whoorson made me meete with a hard stile in two or |545|
three places as I went ouer him.
_Dem._ I beleeue thee, for they had need to be very lowe & easie
Stiles of wit that thy braines goe ouer.
_Enter_ Blunt _and_ Tucca.
_Blun._ Wher’s this gallant? Morrow Gentlemen: what’s this |550| deuise
done yet Horace?
_Hor._ Gods so, what meane you to let this fellow dog you into my
Chamber?
_Blun._ Oh, our honest Captayne, come, prethee let vs see.
_Tuc._ Why you bastards of nine whoores, the Muses, why doe |555| you
walk heere in this gorgeous gailery of gallant inuentions, with that
whooreson poore lyme & hayre-rascall? why--
_Cris._ O peace good Tucca, we are all sworne friends.
_Tuc._ Sworne, that Iudas yonder that walkes in Rug, will dub you
Knights ath Poste, if you serue vnder his band of oaths, the |560|
copper-fact rascal wil for a good supper out sweare twelue dozen of
graund Iuryes.
_Blun._ A pox ont, not done yet, and bin about it three dayes?
_Horr._ By Iesu within this houre, saue you Captayne Tucca.
_Tuc._ Dam thee, thou thin bearded Hermaphrodite, dam thee, |565| Ile
saue my selfe for one I warrant thee, is this thy Tub Diogines?
_Hor._ Yes Captaine this is my poore lodging.
_Asin._ _Morrow Captaine Tucca_, will you whiffe this morning?
_Tuc._ Art thou there goates pizzel; no godamercy Caine I am |570|
for no whiffs I, come hether sheep-skin-weauer, s’foote thou lookst
as though th’adst beg’d out of a Iayle: drawe, I meane not thy face
(for tis not worth drawing) but drawe neere: this way, martch, follow
your commaunder you scoundrell: So, thou must run of an errand for mee
Mephostophiles.
|575| _Hor._ To doe you pleasure Captayne I will, but whether.
_Tuc._ To hell, thou knowst the way, to hell my fire and brimstone, to
hell; dost stare my Sarsens-head at Newgate? dost gloate? Ile march
through thy dunkirkes guts for shooting iestes at me.
|580| _Hor._ Deare Captaine but one word.
_Tuc._ Out bench-whistler out, ile not take thy word for a dagger Pye:
you browne-bread-mouth stinker, ile teach thee to turne me into Bankes
his horse, and to tell gentlemen I am a Iugler, and can shew trickes.
|585| _Hor._ Captaine Tucca, but halfe a word in your eare.
_Tuc._ No you staru’d rascal, thou’t bite off mine eares then, you must
haue three or foure suites of names, when like a lowsie Pediculous
vermin th’ast but one suite to thy backe: you must be call’d Asper, and
Criticus, and Horace, thy tytle’s longer a |590| reading then the Stile
a the big Turkes: Asper, Criticus, Quintus, Horatius, Flaccus.
_Hor._ Captaine I know vpon what euen bases I stand, and therefore--
_Tuc._ Bases? wud the roague were but ready for me.
|595| _Blun._ Nay prethee deare Tucca, come you shall shake--
_Tuc._ Not hands with great Hunkes there, not hands, but Ile
shake the gull-groper out of his tan’d skinne.
_Crisp. & Deme._ For our sake Captaine, nay prethee holde.
_Tuc._ Thou wrongst heere a good honest rascall Crispinus, and |600|
a poore varlet Demetrius Fanninus (bretheren in thine owne trade of
Poetry) thou sayst Crispinus Sattin dublet is Reauel’d out heere,
and that this penurious sneaker is out at elboes, goe two my good
full-mouth’d ban-dog, Ile ha thee friends with both.
_Hor._ With all my heart captaine Tucca, and with you too, Ile |605|
laye my handes vnder your feete, to keepe them from aking.
_Omnes._ Can you haue any more?
_Tuc._ Saist thou me so, olde Coale? come doo’t then; yet tis no matter
neither, Ile haue thee in league first with these two rowly powlies:
they shal be thy Damons and thou their Pithyasse; |610| Crispinus shall
giue thee an olde cast Sattin suite, and Demetrius shall write thee a
Scene or two, in one of thy strong garlicke Comedies; and thou shalt
take the guilt of conscience for’t, and sweare tis thine owne olde lad,
tis thine owne: thou neuer yet fels’t into the hands of sattin, didst?
|615| _Hor._ Neuer Captaine I thanke God.
_Tuc._ Goe too, thou shalt now King Gorboduck, thou shalt, because Ile
ha thee damn’d, Ile ha thee all in Sattin: Asper, Criticus, Quintus,
Horatius, Flaccus, Crispinus shal doo’t, thou shalt doo’t, heyre
apparant of Helicon, thou shalt doo’t.
|620| _Asi._ Mine Ingle weare an olde cast Sattin suite?
_Tuc._ I wafer-face your Ningle.
_Asi._ If he carry the minde of a Gentleman, he’ll scorne it at’s
heeles.
_Tuc._ Mary muffe, my man a ginger-bread, wilt eate any small |625|
coale?
_Asi._ No Captaine, wod you should well know it, great coale shall not
fill my bellie.
_Tuc._ Scorne it, dost scorne to be arrested at one of his olde Suites?
|630| _Hor._ No Captaine, Ile weare any thing.
_Tuc._ I know thou wilt, I know th’art an honest low minded Pigmey, for
I ha seene thy shoulders lapt in a Plaiers old cast Cloake, like a Slie
knaue as thou art: and when thou ranst mad for the death of Horatio:
thou borrowedst a gowne of Roscius |635| the Stager, (that honest
Nicodemus) and sentst it home lowsie, didst not? _Responde_, didst not?
_Blun._ So, so, no more of this, within this houre--
_Hor._ If I can sound retreate to my wits, with whome this leader is in
skirmish, Ile end within this houre.
|640| _Tuc._ What wut end? wut hang thy selfe now? has he not
writ Finis yet Iacke? what will he bee fifteene weekes about this
Cockatrices egge too? has hee not cackeld yet? not laide yet?
_Blunt._ Not yet, hee sweares hee will within this houre.
_Tuc._ His wittes are somewhat hard bound: the Puncke his |645|
Muse has sore labour ere the whoore bee deliuered: the poore
saffron-cheeke Sun-burnt Gipsie wantes Phisicke; giue the hungrie-face
pudding-pye-eater ten Pilles: ten shillings my faire Angelica, they’l
make his Muse as yare as a tumbler.
_Blu._ He shall not want for money if heele write.
|650| _Tuc._ Goe by Ieronimo, goe by; and heere, drop the ten shillings
into this Bason; doe, drop, when Iacke? hee shall call me his Mæcenas:
besides, Ile dam vp’s Ouen-mouth for rayling at’s: So, ist right Iacke?
ist sterling? fall off now to the vanward of yonder foure Stinkers, and
aske alowde if wee shall goe? the |655| Knight shall defray Iacke, the
Knight when it comes to _Summa totalis_, the Knyght, the Knight.--
_Blu._ Well Gentlemen, we’ll leaue you, shall we goe Captaine? good
Horrace make some hast.
_Hor._ Ile put on wings.
|660| _Asin._ I neuer sawe mine Ingle so dasht in my life before.
_Cris._ Yes once Asinius.
_Asi._ Mas you say true, hee was dasht worse once going (in a rainy
day) with a speech to’th Tilt-yard, by Gods lyd has call’d him names, a
dog would not put vp, that had any discreation.
|665| _Tuc._ Holde, holde vp thy hand, I ha seene the day thou didst
not scorne to holde vp thy golles: ther’s a Souldiers Spur-royall,
twelue pence: Stay, because I know thou canst not write without
quick-siluer; vp agen, this goll agen, I giue thee double presse-money:
Stay, because I know thou hast a noble head, ile deuide |670| my
Crowne, ô royall Porrex, ther’s a teston more; goe, thou and thy Muse
munch, doe, munch; come my deare Mandrake, if Skeldring fall not
to decay, thou shalt florish: farewell my sweet _Amadis de Gaule_,
farewell.
_Hor._ Deare Captaine.
|675| _Tuc._ Come Iacke.
_Dem._ Nay Captaine stay, we are of your band.
_Tuc._ March faire then.
_Cri._ Horace farewell, adue Asinius.
_Exeunt._
_Asi._ Ningle lets goe to some Tauerne, and dine together, for |680| my
stomache rises at this scuruy leather Captaine.
_Hor._ No, they haue choakt me with mine owne disgrace,
Which (fooles) ile spit againe euen in your face.
_Exeunt._
_Enter_ Sir Quintilian Shorthose, Sir Adam, Sir Vaughan, Mineuer
_with seruingmen_.
|685| _Sir quinti._ Knaues, Varlets, what Lungis, giue me a dozen of
stooles there.
_Sir Vau._ Sesu plesse vs all in our fiue sences a peece, what meane
yee sir Kintilian Sorthose to stand so much on a dozen stooles, heere
be not preeches inuffe to hyde a dozen stooles, |690| vnlesse you wisse
some of vs preake his sinnes.
_Sir quin._ I say sir Vaughan no shinne shal be broken heer; what
lungis, a chayre with a stronge backe, and a soft bellie, great with
childe, with a cushion for this reuerend Lady.
_Mineu._ God neuer gaue me the grace to be a Lady, yet I ha |695| beene
worshipt in my conscience to my face a thousand times, I cannot denye
sir Vaughan, but that I haue all implements, belonging to the vocation
of a Lady.
_Sir Vaughan._ I trust mistris Mineuer you haue all a honest oman shud
haue?
|700| _Min._ Yes perdie, as my Coach, and my fan, and a man or two that
serue my turne, and other things which Ide bee loath euery one should
see, because they shal not be common, I am in manner of a Lady in one
point.
_Sir Vaug._ I pray mistris Mineuers, let vs all see that point for
|705| our better vnderstanding.
_Mi._ For I ha some thinges that were fetcht (I am sure) as farre as
some of the Low Countries, and I payde sweetly for them too, and they
tolde me they were good for Ladies.
_Sir qui._ And much good do’t thy good heart faire widdow |710| with
them.
_Min._ I am fayre enough to bee a Widdow, Sir Quintilian.
_Sir Vaug._ In my soule and conscience, and well fauoured enough to
be a Lady: heere is sir Kintilian Sorthose, and heere is sir Adam
Prickshaft, a sentleman of a very good braine, and |715| well headed:
you see he shootes his bolt sildome, but when Adam lets goe, he hits:
and heere is sir Vaughan ap Rees, and I beleeue if God sud take vs all
from his mercy, as I hope hee will not yet; we all three loue you,
at the bottome of our bellyes, and our hearts: and therefore mistris
Mineuer, if you please, |720| you shall be knighted by one of vs, whom
you sall desire to put into your deuice and minde.
_Min._ One I must haue sir Vaughan.
_Sir quin._ And one of vs thou shalt haue widdow.
_Min._ One I must haue, for now euery one seekes to crow ouer |725| me.
_Sir Vaug._ By Sesu and if I finde any crowing ouer you, & he were a
cocke (come out as farre as in Turkeys country) tis possible to cut his
combe off.
_Min._ I muse why sir Adam Prickshaft flyes so farre from vs.
|730| _Sir Adam._ I am in a browne study, my deare, if loue should bee
turned into a beast, what beast hee were fit to bee turned into.
_Sir quinti._ I thinke Sir Adam an Asse, because of his bearing.
_Min._ I thinke (sauing your reuerence) Sir Adam a puppy, for |735| a
dog is the most louing creature to a christian that is, vnles it be a
childe.
_Sir Ad._ No, I thinke if loue should bee turn’d away, and goe to serue
any beast, it must bee an Ape, and my reason----
_Sir Vaugh._ Sir Adam, an Ape? ther’s no more reason in an Ape, |740|
than in a very plaine Monkey; for an Ape has no tayle, but we all know,
or tis our duty to know, loue has two tailes; In my sudsment, if loue
be a beast, that beast is a bunce of Reddis; for a bunce of Reddis is
wise meate without Mutton, and so is loue.
|745| _Mi._ Ther’s the yawning Captaine (sauing your reuerence that has
such a sore mouth) would one day needes perswade me, that loue was a
Rebato; and his reason was (sauing your reuerence) that a Rebato was
worne out with pinning too often; and so he said loue was.
|750| _Sir Vaugh._ And Master Captaine Tucca sayd wisely too, loue is a
Rebato indeede: a Rebato must be poaked; now many women weare Rebatoes,
and many that weare Rebatoes----
_Sir Adam._ Must be poakt.
_Sir Vau._ Sir Adam Prickshaft has hit the cloute.
_Musicke._
|755| _Sir qui._ The Musicke speakes to vs, we’ll haue a daunce before
dinner.
_Enter_ Sir Walter Terrill, Cælestine, Blunt, Crispinus, _and_
Demetrius, _euery one with a Lady_.
_All._ The King’s at hand.
|760| _Ter._ Father the King’s at hand.
Musicke talke lowder, that thy siluer voice,
May reach my Soueraignes eares.
_Sir Vaug._ I pray doe so, Musitions bestir your fingers, that you may
haue vs all by the eares.
|765| _Sir quin._ His Grace comes, a Hall varlets, where be my men?
blow, blow your colde Trumpets till they sweate; tickle them till they
sound agen.
_Blun._ Best goe meete his Grace.
_All._ Agreed.
|770| _Sir Vaug._ Pray all stand bare, as well men as women: Sir Adam
is best you hide your head for feare your wise braines take key-colde:
on afore Sir Kintilian; Sentlemen fall in before the Ladyes, in seemely
order and fashion; so this is comelye.
_Enter Trumpets sounding, they goe to the doore, and meete the King and
|775| his Traine, and whilst the Trumpets sound the King is welcom’d,
kisses the Bride, and honors the Bridegroome in dumbe shew._
_King._ Nay if your pleasures shrinke at sight of vs,
We shall repent this labour, Mistris Bride
You that for speaking but one word to day,
|780| Must loose your head at night; you that doe stand
Taking your last leaue of virginity;
You that being well begun, must not be Maide:
Winne you the Ladies, I the men will wooe,
Our selfe will leade my blushing Bride with you.
|785| _Sir Vaughan._ God blesse your Maiesty, and send you to be a long
King William Rufus ouer vs, when he sees his times & pleasures.
_King._ Wee thanke you good Sir Vaughan, wee will take your meaning not
your words.
|790| _Sir quint._ Lowde Musicke there.
_Sir Vau._ I am glad your Maiesty will take any thing at my hands; my
words I trust in Sesu, are spoken betweene my soule and body together,
and haue neither Felonies nor treasons about them, I hope.
|795| _King._ Good words Sir Vaughan, I prethee giue vs leaue.
_Vaug._ Good words sir Vaughan? thats by interpretation in english,
you’r best giue good words sir Vaughan: god and his Ansells blesse me,
what ayles his maiestye to be so tedious and difficult in his right
mindes now, I holde my life that file |800| rascall-rymer Horace hath
puzd and puzd aboue a hundred merie tales and lyce, into his great and
princely eares: by god and he vse it, his being Phœbus priest cannot
saue him, if hee were his Sapline too ide prease vpon his coxcomb: good
lord blesse me out of his maiesties celler: King Williams, I hope tis
none |805| offences to make a supplication to god a mightie for your
long life: for by shesu I haue no meaning in’t in all the world, vnles
rascalls be here that will haue your grace take shalke for shees, and
vnlesse Horace has sent lyce to your maiesty.
_King._ Horace, what’s he sir Vaughan?
|810| _Vaugh._ As hard-fauourd a fellow as your maiestie has seene in a
sommers day: he does pen, an’t please your grace, toyes that will not
please your grace; tis a Poet, we call them Bardes in our Countrie,
singes ballads and rymes, and I was mightie sealous, that his Inke
which is blacke and full of gall, had brought |815| my name to your
maiestie, and so lifted vp your hye and princely coller.
_King._ I neither know that Horace, nor mine anger,
If as thou saist our high and princely choller
Be vp, wee’l tread it downe with daunces; Ladies
|820| Loose not your men; faire measures must be tread,
When by so faire a dauncer you are lead.
_Vaugh._ Mistris Miniuer:
_Min._ Perdie sir Vaughan I cannot dance.
_Vaugh._ Perdie by this Miniuer cappe, and acording to his |825|
masesties leaue too, you sall be put in among theise Ladies, & daunce
ere long I trest in god, the saking of the seetes.
_They daunce a straine, and whilst the others keepe on, the King and
Cælestine stay._
_Kin._ That turne faire Bride shews you must turne at night,
|830| In that sweet daunce which steales away delight.
_Cæl._ Then pleasure is a theife, a fit, a feauer.
_Kin._ True, he’s the thiefe, but women the receiuer.
_Another change; they fall in, the rest goe on._
_Kin._ This change sweet Maide, saies you must change your life,
|835| As Virgins doe.
_Cæl._ Virgins nere change their life,
She that is wiu’d a maide, is Maide and wife.
_Kin._ But she that dyes a Maide;--
_Cæl._ Thrice happy then.
|840| _Kin._ Leades Apes in hell.
_Cæl._ Better leade Apes then men.
_At this third change they end, and she meetes the King._
_Kin._ Well met.
_Cæl._ Tis ouertaken.
|845| _Kin._ Why faire sweet?
_Cæl._ Women are ouertaken when they meete.
_Kin._ Your bloud speakes like a coward.
_Cæl._ It were good,
If euery Maiden blush, had such a bloud.
|850| _Kin._ A coward bloud, why whom should maidens feare?
_Cæ._ Men, were Maides cowards, they’d not come so nere,
My Lord the Measure’s done, I pleade my duetie.
_Kin._ Onelie my heart takes measure of thy beautie.
_Sir quin._ Now by my hose I sweare, that’s no deepe oath,
|855| This was a fine sweet earth-quake gentlie moou’d,
By the soft winde of whispring Silkes: come Ladies,
Whose ioynts are made out of the dauncing Orbes,
Come, follow me, walke a colde measure now;
In the Brides Chamber; your hot beautie’s melt,
|860| Take euerie one her fan, giue them their places,
And waue the Northerne winde vpon your faces.
_Cælestine and all the Ladyes doing obeysance to the King, who
onely kisses her, Exeunt, Shorthose manning them, the Gallants
stand aloofe._
_Kin._ Sir Walter Terrill.
|865| _Ter._ My confirmed Leige.
_Ki._ Beautie out of her bountie, thee hath lent,
More then her owne with liberall extent.
_Ter._ What meanes my Lord?