|870| She that is now thy fadom, thy new world,
That brings thee people, and makes little subiects;
Kneele at thy feete, obay in euerie thing,
So euerie Father is a priuate King.
_Ter._ My Lord, her beauty is the poorest part,
|875| Chieflie her vertues did endowe my heart.
_Kin._ Doe not back-bite her beauties, they all shine,
Brighter on thee, because the beames are thine,
To thee more faire, to others her two lips
Shew like a parted Moone in thine Eclipse;
|880| That glaunce, which louers mongst themselues deuise,
Walkes as inuisible to others eies:
Giue me thine eare.
_Cri._ What meanes the King?
_Dem._ Tis a quaint straine.
|885| _Ter._ My Lord.
_King._ Thou darst not Wat.
_Ter._ She is too course an obiect for the Court.
_Kin._ Thou darst not _W_at: let to night be to morrow.
_Ter._ For shee’s not yet mine owne.
|890| _Kin._ Thou darst not Wat?
_Ter._ My Lord I dare, but----
_King._ But I see thou darst not.
_Ter._ This night.
_King._ Yea, this night, tush thy minde repaires not,
|895| The more thou talk’st of night, the more thou darst not;
Thus farre I tend, I wod but turne this spheare,
Of Ladies eyes, and place it in the Court,
Where thy faire Bride should for the Zodiacke shine,
And euery Lady else sit for a signe.
|900| But all thy thoughts are yellow, thy sweet bloud
Rebels, th’art iealous Wat; thus with proude reuels
To emmulate the masking firmament,
Where Starres dance in the siluer Hall of heauen,
Thy pleasure should be seasoned, and thy bed
|905| Relish thy Bride, But, but thou darst not Wat.
_Ter._ My Loord I dare.
_Kin._ Speake that agen.
_Ter._ I dare.
_King._ Agen kinde Wat, and then I know thou darst.
|910| _Ter._ I dare and will by that ioynt holy oath,
Which she and I swore to the booke of heauen.
This very day when the surueying Sunne,
Riz like a witnes to her faith and mine,
By all the loyalty that subiects owe
|915| To Maiesty, by that, by this, by both,
I sweare to make a double guarded oath,
This night vntainted by the touch of man,
She shall a Virgin come.
_Kin._ To Court? _Ter._ To Court.
|920| I know I tooke a woman to my wife,
And I know women to be earthly Moones,
That neuer shine till night, I know they change
Their Orbes (their husbands) and in sickish hearts,
Steale to their sweete Endimions, to be cur’d
|925| With better Phisicke, sweeter dyet drinkes,
Then home can minister: all this I know
Yet know not all, but giue me leaue O King,
To boast of mine, and saie that I know none;
I haue a woman but not such a one.
|930| _Kin._ Why, she’s confirmed in thee; I now approoue her,
If constant in thy thoughts who then can mooue her?
_Enter_ Sir Quintilian.
_Sir qui._ Wilt please your Highnes take your place within,
The Ladies attend the Table.
|935| _Kin._ I goe good Knight; Wat thy oath.
_Ter._ My Lord,
My oath’s my honour, my honour is my life,
My oath is constant, so I hope my wife.
_Exeunt._
_Enter_ Horace _in his true attyre_, Asinius _bearing his Cloake_.
|940| _Asi._ If you flye out Ningle, heer’s your Cloake; I thinke it
raines too.
_Ho._ Hide my shoulders in’t.
_Asi._ Troth so th’adst neede, for now thou art in thy Pee and Kue;
thou hast such a villanous broad backe, that I warrant |945| th’art
able to beare away any mans iestes in England.
_Hor._ It’s well Sir, I ha strength to beare yours mee thinkes; fore
God you are growne a piece of a Critist, since you fell into my hands:
ah little roague, your wit has pickt vp her crums prettie and well.
|950| _Asi._ Yes faith, I finde my wit a the mending hand Ningle; troth
I doe not thinke but to proceede Poetaster next Commencement, if I haue
my grace perfectlie: euerie one that confer with me now, stop their
nose in merriment, and sweare I smell somewhat of Horace; one calles me
Horaces Ape, another |955| Horaces Beagle, and such Poeticall names it
passes. I was but at Barbers last day, and when he was rencing my face,
did but crie out, fellow thou makst me _Conniue_ too long, & sayes he,
Master _Asinius Bubo_, you haue eene Horaces wordes as right as if he
had spit them into your mouth.
|960| _Hor._ Well, away deare Asinius, deliuer this letter to the young
Gallant _Druso_, he that fell so strongly in loue with mee yesternight.
_Asin._ It’s a sweete Muske-cod, a pure spic’d-gull; by this feather I
pittie his _Ingenuities_; but hast writ all this since Ningle? I know
|965| thou hast a good running head and thou listest.
_Hor._ Foh come, your great belly’d wit must long for euery thing too;
why you _Rooke_, I haue a set of letters readie starcht to my hands,
which to any fresh suited gallant, that but newlie enters his name into
my rowle, I send the next morning, ere his |970| ten a clocke dreame
has rize from him, onelie with claping my hand to’t, that my Nouice
shall start, ho and his haire stand an end, when hee sees the sodaine
flash of my writing; what you prettie Diminitiue roague, we must haue
false fiers to amaze these spangle babies, these true heires of Ma.
Justice Shallow.
|975| _Asi._ I wod alwaies haue thee sawce a foole thus.
_Hor._ Away, and, stay: heere be Epigrams vpon Tucca, divulge these
among the gallants; as for Crispinus, that Crispin-asse and Fannius his
Play-dresser; who (to make the Muses beleeue, their subiects eares were
staru’d, and that there was a dearth of Poesie) |980| cut an Innocent
Moore i’th middle, to serue him in twice; & when he had done, made
Poules-worke of it, as for these Twynnes these _Poet-apes_:
Their Mimicke trickes shall serue
With mirth to feast our Muse, whilst their owne starue.
|985| _Asin._ Well Ningle Ile trudge, but where’s the Randeuow?
_Hor._ Well thought off, marie at Sir Vaughans lodging the Welsh
knight, I haue compos’d a loue-letter for the gallants worship, to his
Rosamond: the second, Mistris Miniuer, because she does not thinke so
soundly of his lame English as he could |990| wish; I ha gull’d his
Knight-ship heere to his face, yet haue giuen charge to his wincking
vnderstanding not to perceiue it: nay Gods so, away deare Bubo.
_Asi._ I am gone.
_Exit._
_Hor._ The Muses birdes the Bees were hiu’d and fled,
|995| Vs in our cradle, thereby prophecying;
_That we to learned eares should sweetly sing,
But to the vulger and adulterate braine,
Should loath to prostitute our Virgin straine_.
No, our sharpe pen shall keep the world in awe,
|1000| Horace thy Poesie, wormwood wreathes shall weare,
We hunt not for mens loues but for their feare.
_Exit._
_Enter_ Sir Adam _and_ Miniuer.
_Min._ O Sir Adam Prickshaft, you are a the bow hand wide, a long yard
I assure you: and as for Suitors, truelie they all goe |1005| downe
with me, they haue all one flat answere.
_Sir Adam._ All Widdow? not all, let Sir Adam bee your first man still.
_Enter_ Sir Quintilian.
_Sir quin._ Widdow, art stolne from Table? I Sir Adam,
|1010| Are you my riuall? well, flye faire y’are best;
The King’s exceeding merrie at the banquet,
He makes the Bride blush with his merrie words,
That run into her eares; ah he’s a wanton,
Yet I dare trust her, had he twentie tongues,
|1015| And euerie tongue a Stile of Maiestie.
Now Widdow, let me tell thee in thine eare,
I loue thee Widdow, by this ring; nay weare it.
_Mineu._ Ile come in no rings pardie, Ile take no golde.
_Sir Ada._ Harke in thine eare, take me, I am no golde.
|1020| _Enter_ Sir Vaughan _and_ Peter Flash.
_Sir Vau._ Master Peter Flash, I will grope about Sir Quintilian, for
his terminations touching and considering you.
_Flash._ I thanke your Worship, for I haue as good a stomacke to your
Worship as a man could wish.
|1025| _Sir Vau._ I hope in God a mightie, I shall fill your stomack
Master Peter: What two vpon one Sentlemen; Mistris Miniuer, much good
doo’t you Sir Adam.
_Sir quin._ Sir Vaughan, haue you din’d well Sir Vaughan?
_Sir Vau._ As good seere as would make any hungrie man (and a |1030|
were in the vilest prison in the world) eate and hee had anie stomacke:
One word Sir Quintilian in hugger mugger; heere is a Sentleman of
yours, Master Peter Flash, is tesirous to haue his blew coate pul’d
ouer his eares; and....
_Flash._ No, Sir, my petition runs thus, that your whorshippe |1035|
would thrust mee out of doores, and that I may follow Sir Vaughan.
_Sir Vau._ I can tell you Master Flash, and you follow mee I goe verie
fast, I thinke in my conscience, I am one of the lightest knights in
England.
_Flash._ It’s no matter Sir, the Flashes haue euer bin knowne to |1040|
be quicke and light enough.
_Sir quin._ Sir Vaughan, he shal follow you, he shall dog you good Sir
Vaughan.
_Enter_ Horace _walking_.
_Sir Vau._ Why then Peter Flash I will set my foure markes a |1045|
yeare, and a blew coate vpon you.
_Fla._ Godamercy to your worship, I hope you shall neuer repent for me.
_Sir Vau._ You beare the face of an honest man, for you blush passing
well Peter, I will quench the flame out of your name, |1050| and you
shall be christned Peter Salamander.
_Peter Flash._ The name’s too good for me, I thanke your worship.
_Sir Vau._ Are you come Master Horace, you sent mee the Coppie of your
letters countenance, and I did write and read it; |1055| your wittes
truelie haue done verie valliantlie: tis a good inditements, you ha put
in enough for her ha you not?
_Hor._ According to my instructions.
_Sir Vau._ Tis passing well, I pray Master Horace walke a little beside
your selfe, I will turne vpon you incontinent.
|1060| _Sir quin._ What Gentleman is this in the Mandilian, a soldyer?
_Sir Vau._ No, tho he has a very bad face for a souldier, yet he
has as desperate a wit as euer any Scholler went to cuffes for;
tis a Sentleman Poet, he has made rimes called Thalamimums, for M.
Pride-groome, on vrd widdow.
|1065| _Sir qui._ Is this he? welcome Sir, your name? pray you walke
not so statelie, but be acquainted with me boldlie; your name Sir?
_Hor._ Quintus, Horacius, Flaccus.
_Sir Quint._ Good Master Flappus welcome.
|1070| _He walkes vp and downe._
_Sir Vau._ Mistris Miniuer, one vrde in your corner heere; I desire
you to breake my armes heere, and read this Paper, you shall feele my
mindes and affections in it, at full and at large.
_Mini._ Ile receiue no Loue libels perdy, but by word a mouth.
|1075| _Sir Vaughan._ By Sesu tis no libell, for heere is my hand to it.
_Mini._ Ile ha no hand in it Sir Vaughan, Ile not deale with you.
_Sir Vau._ Why then widdow, Ile tell you by word a mouth my deuices.
_Mi._ Your deuices come not neere my mouth Sir Vaughan |1080| perdy, I
was vpon a time in the way to marriage, but now I am turn’d a tother
side, I ha sworne to leade a single and simple life.
_Sir Adam._ She has answer’d you Sir Vaughan.
_Sir Vau._ Tis true, but at wrong weapons Sir Adam; will you be an Asse
Mistris Miniuers?
|1085| _Min._ If I be you shall not ride me.
_Sir Vaug._ A simple life! by Sesu tis the life of a foole, a simple
life!
_Sir qui._ How now Sir Vaughan?
_Sir Vaugh._ My braines has a little fine quawme come vnder it, |1090|
and therefore Sir Adam, and Sir Quintilian, and mistris Miniuer caps
God bo’y.
_All._ Good Sir Vaughan.
_Sir Vaugh._ Master Horace, your inuentions doe her no good in the
Vniuersalities; yet heere is two shillings for your wittes; |1095| nay
by Sesu you shall take it if’t were more: yonder bald Adams, is put
my nose from his ioynt; but Adam I will be euen to you: this is my
cogitations, I will indite the Ladies & Miniuer caps to a dinner of
Plumbes, and I shall desire you M. Horace, |1100| to speake or raile;
you can raile I hope in God a mighty.
_Hor._ You meane to speake bitterlie.
_Sir Vaughan._ Right, to spitte bitterly vpon baldnes, or the thinnes
of haire; you sall eate downe Plumbes to sweeten your mouth, and heere
is a good Ansell to defend you: Peter Salamander |1105| follow me.
_Flash._ With hue and crie and you will Sir.
_Sir Vau._ Come M. Horace, I will goe pull out the Ladies.
_Ho._ And Ile set out my wits, Baldnes the Theame?
My words shall flow hye in a siluer stream.
_Exeunt._
|1110| _Enter_ Tucca _brushing off the crumbes_.
_Tuc._ Wher’s my most costly and sumptuous Shorthose?
_Sir Quint._ Is the King risen from table Captaine Tucca?
_Tuc._ How? risen? no my noble Quintilian, kings are greater men then
we Knights and Caualliers, and therefore must eate |1115| more then
lesser persons; Godamercy good Diues for these crummes: how now? has
not Frier Tucke din’d yet? he falles so hard to that Oyster-pye yonder.
_Sir quin._ Oyster-pye Captaine? ha, ha, he loues her, and I loue her
and feare both shall goe without her.
|1120| _Tuc._ Dost loue her, my finest and first part of the Mirrour of
Knighthood? hange her she lookes like a bottle of ale, when the corke
flyes out and the Ale fomes at mouth, shee lookes my good button-breech
like the signe of Capricorne, or like Tiborne when it is couer’d with
snow.
|1125| _Sir quin._ All’s one for that, she has a vizard in a bagge,
will make her looke like an Angell; I wod I had her, vpon condition, I
gaue thee this chaine manlie Tucca.
_Tuc._ I? saist thou so Friskin? I haue her ath hip for some causes, I
can sound her, she’ll come at my becke.
|1130| _Sir quin._ Wod I could sound her too Noble commaunder.
_Tuc._ Thou shalt doo’t; that Lady ath Lake is thine Sir Tristram, lend
mee thy chaine, doe, lend it, Ile make her take it as a token, Ile
lincke her vnto thee; and thou shalt weare her gloue in thy Worshipfull
hatte like to a leather brooch; Nay and thou |1135| mistrusts thy
coller, be tyed in’t still.
_Sir quin._ Mistrust Captaine? no, heere tis, giue it her if she’ll
take it, or weare it thy selfe, if shee’ll take mee, Ile watch him well
enough too.
_Tuc._ No more, Ile shoote away yonder Prickshaft, and then |1140|
belabour her, and flye you after yonder Cucko: dost heere me my noble
Gold-finch?----
_Sir qui._ No more.
_Tuc._ How dost thou my smug Belimperia? how dost thou? hands off my
little bald Derricke, hands off: harke hether |1145| Susanna, beware a
these two wicked Elders, shall I speake well or ill of thee?
_Min._ Nay, eene as you please Captaine, it shal be at your choise.
_Tuc._ Why well said, my nimble Short-hose.
|1150| _Sir quin._ I heare her, I heare her.
_Tuc._ Art angry father time? art angrie because I tooke mother-Winter
aside? Ile holde my life thou art strucke with Cupids Birde-bolt, my
little prickshaft, art? dost loue that mother Mumble-crust, dost thou?
dost long for that whim-wham?
|1155| _Sir Ada._ Wod I were as sure to lye with her, as to loue her.
_Tuc._ Haue I found thee my learned Dunce, haue I found thee? If
I might ha my wil, thou shouldst not put thy spoone into that
bumble-broth (for indeede Ide taste her my selfe) no thou shouldst not;
yet if her beautie blinde thee, she’s thine, I can doo’t, thou |1160|
heardst her say eene now, it should bee at my choice.
_Sir Ada._ She did so, worke the match and Ile bestow--
_Tuc._ Not a silke point vpon mee, little Adam shee shall bee thy Eeue,
for lesse then an Apple; but send, bee wise, send her some token,
shee’s greedie, shee shall take it, doe, send, thou |1165| shalt sticke
in her (Prickeshaft) but send.
_Sir Adam._ Heer’s a purse of golde, thinke you that wil be accepted?
_Tuc._ Goe to, it shall bee accepted, and twere but siluer, when that
Flea-bitten Short-hose steppes hence: vanish too, and let |1170| mee
alone with my Grannam in Gutter-Lane there, and this purse of golde
doe, let me alone.
_Sir quint._ The King, gods Lord, I doe forget the King; Widdow, thinke
on my wordes, I must be gone To waite his rising, Ile returne anone.
|1175| _Sir Ad._ Stay Sir Quintilian, Ile be a waiter too.
_Sir quinti._ Widdow wee’ll trust that Captaine there with you.
_Exeunt._
_Tuc._ Now, now, mother Bunch how dost thou? what dost frowne Queene
Gwyniuer? dost wrinckle? what made these paire |1180| of Shittle-cockes
heere? what doe they fumble for? Ile ha none of these Kites fluttering
about thy carkas, for thou shalt bee my West Indyes, and none but trim
Tucca shall discouer thee.
_Min._ Discouer me? discouer what thou canst of me.
_Tuc._ What I can? thou knowst what I can discouer, but I will |1185|
not lay thee open to the world.
_Min._ Lay me open to the world?
_Tuc._ No I will not my moldie decay’d Charing-crosse, I will not.
_Mi._ Hang thee patch-pannell, I am none a thy Charing-crosse: I scorne
to be Crosse to such a scab as thou makst thy selfe.
|1190| _Tuc._ No, tis thou makst me so, my Long Meg a Westminster, thou
breedst a scab, thou--
_Min._ I? dam thee filthie Captaine, dam thy selfe.
_Tuc._ My little deuill a Dow-gate, Ile dam thee, (thou knowst my
meaning) Ile dam thee vp; my wide mouth at Bishops-gate.
|1195| _Min._ Wod I might once come to that damming.
_Tuc._ Why thou shalt, my sweet dame Annis a cleere thou shalt, for Ile
drowne my selfe in thee; I, for thy loue, Ile sinke, I, for thee.
_Min._ So thou wilt I warrant, in thy abhominable sinnes; Lord, |1200|
Lord, howe many filthy wordes hast thou to answere for.
_Tuc._ Name one Madge-owlet, name one, Ile answer for none; my words
shall be foorth comming at all times, & shall answer for them selues;
my nimble Cat-a-mountaine: they shall Sislie Bum-trincket, for Ile
giue thee none but Suger-candie wordes, I |1205| will not Pusse: goody
Tripe-wife, I will not.
_Min._ Why dost call mee such horrible vngodlie names then?
_Tuc._ Ile name thee no more Mother Red-cap vpon paine of death, if
thou wilt Grimalkin, Maggot-a-pye I will not.
_Min._ Wod thou shouldst wel know, I am no Maggot, but a |1210| meere
Gentlewoman borne.
_Tu._ I know thou art a Gentle, and Ile nibble at thee, thou shalt
be my Cap-a-maintenance, & Ile carrie my naked sword before thee, my
reuerend Ladie Lettice-cap.
_Mi._ Thou shalt carry no naked swords before me to fright me,
|1215| thou--
_Tuc._ Go too, let not thy tongue play so hard at hot-cockles; for,
Gammer Gurton, I meane to bee thy needle, I loue thee, I loue thee,
because thy teeth stand like the Arches vnder London Bridge, for thou’t
not turne Satyre & bite thy husband; No, come my little |1220| Cub, doe
not scorne mee because I goe in Stag, in Buffe, heer’s veluet too; thou
seest I am worth thus much in bare veluet.
_Min._ I scorne thee not, not I.
_Tuc._ I know thou dost not, thou shat see that I could march with two
or three hundred linkes before me, looke here, what? |1225| I could
shew golde too, if that would tempt thee, but I will not make my selfe
a Gold-smithes stall I; I scorne to goe chain’d my Ladie ath Hospitall,
I doe; yet I will and must bee chain’d to thee.
_Min._ To mee? why Master Captaine, you know that I haue my |1230|
choise of three or foure payre of Knights, and therefore haue small
reason to flye out I know not how in a man of war.
_Tuc._ A man a warre? come thou knowst not what a worshipfull focation
tis to be a Captaines wife: three or four payre of Knights? why dost
heare Ioane-a-bedlam, Ile enter into bond to |1235| be dub’d by what
day thou wilt, when the next action is layde vpon me, thou shalt be
Ladified.
_Min._ You know I am offered that by halfe a dozen.
_Tuc._ Thou shalt little Miniuer, thou shalt, Ile ha this frock turn’d
into a foote-cloth; and thou shalt be carted, drawne I |1240| meane,
Coacht, Coacht, thou shalt ryde Iigga-Iogge; a Hood shall flap vp and
downe heere, and this shipskin-cap shall be put off.
_Mini._ Nay perdie, Ile put off my cap for no mans pleasure.
_Tuc._ Wut thou be proude little Lucifer? well, thou shalt goe
|1245| how thou wilt Maide-marian; come, busse thy little Anthony
now, now, my cleane Cleopatria; so, so, goe thy waies Alexis
secrets, th’ast a breath as sweet as the Rose, that growes by the
Beare-garden, as sweete as the proud’st heade a Garlicke in England:
come, wut march in, to the Gentle folkes?
|1250| _Mini._ Nay trulie Captaine you shall be my leader.
_Tuc._ I say Mary Ambree, thou shalt march formost,
Because Ile marke how broad th’art in the heeles.
_Mini._ Perdie, I will be set ath last for this time.
_Tuc._ Why then come, we’ll walke arme in arme,
|1255| As tho we were leading one another to Newgate.
_Enter_ Blunt, Crispinus, _and_ Demetrius, _with papers, laughing._
_Cri._ Mine’s of a fashion, cut out quite from yours.
_Dem._ Mine has the sharpest tooth, yonder he is.
_Blu._ Captaine Tucca.
_All hold vp papers._
|1260| _Tuc._ How now? I cannot stand to read supplications now.
_Cris._ They’re bitter Epigrams compos’d on you
By Horace.
_Dem._ And disperst amongst the gallants
In seuerall coppies, by Asinius Bubo.
|1265| _Tuc._ By that liue Eele? read, _Lege Legito_, read thou Iacke.
_Blu._ _Tucca’s growne monstrous, how? rich? that I feare,
He’s to be seene for money euery where._
_Tuc._ Why true, shall not I get in my debts, nay and the roague write
no better I care not, farewell blacke Iacke farewell.
|1270| _Cri._ But Captaine heer’s a nettle.
_Tuc._ Sting me, doe.
_Cri._ _Tucca’s exceeding tall and yet not hye,
He fights with skill, but does most vilye lye._
_Tuc._ Right, for heere I lye now, open, open, to make my |1275|
aduersarie come on; and then Sir, heere am I in’s bosome: nay and this
be the worst, I shal hug the poore honest face-maker, Ile loue the
little Atheist, when he writes after my commendation, another whip?
come yerke me.
_Dem._ _Tucca will bite, how? growne Satiricall,
|1280| No, he bites tables, for he feedes on all._
_Tuc._ The whoreson clouen-foote deuill in mans apparell lyes,
There stood aboue forty dishes before me to day,
That I nere toucht, because they were empty.
_Min._ I am witnes young Gentlemen to that.
|1285| _Tuc._ Farewell stinckers, I smel thy meaning Screech-owle, I
doe tho I stop my nose: and Sirra Poet, we’ll haue thee vntrust for
this; come, mother Mum-pudding, come.
_Exeunt._
_Trumpets sound a florish, and then a sennate: Enter_ King _with_
Cælestine, Sir Walter Terrill, Sir Quintilian, Sir Adam, Blunt |1290|
_and other Ladies and attendants: whilst the Trumpets sound the King_
_takes his leaue of the Bride-groome, and_ Sir Quintilian, _and last
of the Bride._
_Kin._ My song of parting doth this burden beare;
A kisse the Ditty, and I set it heere.
|1295| Your lips are well in tune, strung with delight,
By this faire Bride remember soone at night:
Sir Walter.
_Ter._ My Leige Lord, we all attend,
The time and place.
|1300| _Kin._ Till then my leaue commend.
_They bring him to the doore: Enter at another doore_ Sir Vaughan.
_Sir Vau._ Ladies, I am to put a verie easie suite vpon you all, and
to desire you to fill your little pellies at a dinner of plums behinde
noone; there be Suckets, and Marmilads, and Marchants, |1305| and other
long white plummes that faine would kisse your delicate and sweet
lippes; I indite you all together, and you especially my Ladie Pride;
what doe you saie for your selles? for I indite you all.
_Cæl._ I thanke you good Sir Vaughan, I will come.
|1310| _Sir Vau._ Say Sentlewomen will you stand to me too?
_All._ Wee’ll sit with you sweet Sir Vaughan.
_Sir Vau._ God a mightie plesse your faces, and make your peauties
last, when wee are all dead and rotten:--you all will come.
_1 Lady._ All will come.
|1315| _Sir Vau._ Pray God that Horace bee in his right wittes to raile
now.
_Exit._
_Cris._ Come Ladie, you shall be my dauncing guest
To treade the maze of musicke with the rest.
_Dem._ Ile lead you in.
|1320| _Dicach._ A maze is like a doubt:
Tis easie to goe in, hard to get out.
_Blun._ We follow close behinde.
_Philoca._ That measure’s best.
Now none markes vs, but we marke all the rest.
_Exeunt._
|1325| _Exeunt all sauing_ Sir Quintilian, Cælestine, _and_
Sir Walter Terrill.
_Ter._ Father, and you my Bride; that name to day,
Wife, comes not till to morrow: but omitting
This enterchange of language; let vs thinke
Vpon the King and night, and call our spirits
|1330| To a true reckoning; first to Arme our wittes
With compleat steele of Iudgement, and our tongs,
With sound attillery of Phrases: then
Our Bodies must bee motions; moouing first
What we speake: afterwards, our very knees
|1335| Must humbly seeme to talke, and sute our speech;
For a true furnisht Cortyer hath such force,
Though his tonge faints, his very legs discourse.
_Sir quin._ Sonne Terrill, thou hast drawne his picture right,
For hee’s noe full-made Courtier, nor well strung,
|1340| That hath not euery ioynt stucke with a tongue.
Daughter, if Ladies say, that is the Bride, that’s she,
Gaze thou at none, for all will gaze at thee.
_Cæl._ Then, ô my father must I goe? O my husband
Shall I then goe? O my selfe, will I goe?
|1345| _Sir quin._ You must.
_Ter._ You shall.
_Cæl._ I will, but giue me leaue,
To say I may not, nor I ought not, say not
|1350| Still, I must goe, let me intreate I may not.