Now wooe the ayre agen, this is the houre,
Writ in the Calender of time, this houre,
Musicke shall spend, the next and next the Bride;
Her tongue will read the Musicke-Lecture: Wat
|2315| I loue thee Wat, because thou art not wise;
Not deep-read in the volume of a man,
Thou neuer sawst a thought, poore soule thou thinkst,
The heart and tongue is cut out of one peece,
But th’art deceau’d, the world hath a false light,
|2320| Fooles thinke tis day, when wise men know tis night.
_Enter Sir_ Quintilian.
_Sir quint._ My Leige, they’re come, a maske of gallants.
_King._ Now----the spirit of Loue vshers my bloud.
_Sir quin._ They come.
|2325| The Watch-word in a Maske is the bolde Drum.
_Enter_ Blunt, Crispinus, Demetrius, Philocalia, Petula, Dicache,
_all maskt, two and two with lights like maskers_: Cælestine
_in a chaire_.
_Ter._ All pleasures guard my King, I heere present,
|2330| My oath vpon the knee of duety: knees
Are made for Kings, they are the subiects Fees.
_King._ Wat Terrill, th’art ill suited, ill made vp,
In Sable collours, like a night peece dyed,
Com’st thou the Prologue of a Maske in blacke;
|2335| Thy body is ill shapt; a Bride-groome too
Looke how the day is drest in Siluer cloth,
Laide round about with golden Sunne-beames: so
(As white as heauen) should a fresh Bride-groome goe.
What? Cælestine the Bride, in the same taske?
|2340| Nay then I see ther’s mistery in this maske,
Prethee resolue me Wat?
_Ter._ My gracious Lord,
That part is hers, she actes it; onely I
Present the Prologue, she the misterie.
|2345| _Kin._ Come Bride, the Sceane of blushing entred first,
Your cheekes are setled now, and past the worst;
_Vnmasks her._
A mistery? oh none plaies heere but death,
This is deaths motion, motionles? speake you,
Flatter no longer; thou her Bride-groome; thou
|2350| Her Father speake.
_Sir quint._ Dead.
_Ter._ Dead.
_Kin._ How?
_Sir quin._ Poyson’d.
|2355| _King._ And poyson’d?
What villaine durst blaspheme her beauties, or
Prophane the cleare religion of her eyes?
_Ter._ Now King I enter, now the Sceane is mine,
My tongue is tipt with poison; know who speakes,
|2360| And looke into my thoughts; I blush not King,
To call thee Tyrant: death hath set my face,
And made my bloud bolde; heare me spirits of men,
And place your eares vpon your hearts; the day
(The fellow to this night) saw her and me,
|2365| Shake hands together: for the booke of heauen,
Made vs eternall friends: thus, _Man and Wife_,
This man of men (the King) what are not kings?
Was my chiefe guest, my royall guest, his Grace
Grac’d all the Table, and did well become
|2370| The vpper end, where sate my Bride: in briefe,
He tainted her chaste eares; she yet vnknowne,
His breath was treason, tho his words were none.
Treason to her and me, he dar’d me then,
(Vnder the couert of a flattering smile,)
|2375| To bring her where she is, not as she is,
Aliue for lust, not dead for (Chastity:
The resolution of my soule, out-dar’d,)
I swore and taxt my faith with a sad oath;
Which I maintaine; heere take her, she was mine,
|2380| When she was liuing, but now dead, she’s thine.
_Kin._ Doe not confound me quite; for mine owne guilt,
Speakes more within me then thy tongue containes;
Thy sorrow is my shame: yet heerein springs,
Ioy out of sorrow, boldnes out of shame;
|2385| For I by this haue found, once in my life,
A faithfull subiect, thou a constant wife.
_Cæl._ A constant wife.
_Kin._ Am I confounded twice?
Blasted with wonder.
|2390| _Ter._ O delude we not,
Thou art too true to liue agen, too faire
To be my Cælestine, too constant farre
To be a woman.
_Cæl._ Not to be thy wife,
|2395| But first I pleade my duetie, and salute
The world agen.
_Sir quin._ My King, my Sonne, know all,
I am an Actor in this misterie,
And beare the chiefest part. The Father I,
|2400| Twas I that ministred to her chaste bloud,
A true somniferous potion, which did steale
Her thoughts to sleepe, and flattered her with death:
I cal’d it a quick poison’d drug, to trie
The Bride-groomes loue, and the Brides constancie.
|2405| He in the passion of his loue did fight,
A combat with affection; so did both,
She for the poison stroue, he for his oath:
Thus like a happie Father, I haue won,
A constant Daughter, and a louing Sonne.
|2410| _Kin._ Mirrour of Maidens, wonder of thy name,
I giue thee that art giuen, pure, chaste, the same
Heere Wat: I would not part (for the worlds pride)
So true a Bride-groome, and so chaste a Bride.
_Cri._ My Leige, to wed a Comicall euent,
|2415| To presupposed tragicke Argument:
Vouchsafe to exercise your eyes, and see
A humorous dreadfull Poet take degree.
_Kin._ Dreadfull in his proportion or his pen?
_Cris._ In both, he calles himselfe the whip of men.
|2420| _Kin._ If a cleare merrit stand vpon his praise,
Reach him a Poets Crowne (the honour’d Bayes)
But if he claime it, wanting right thereto,
(As many bastard Sonnes of Poesie doe)
Race downe his vsurpation to the ground.
|2425| _True Poets are with Arte and Nature Crown’d._
But in what molde so ere this man bee cast;
We make him thine Crispinus, wit and iudgement,
Shine in thy numbers, and thy soule I know,
Will not goe arm’d in passion gainst thy foe:
|2430| Therefore be thou our selfe; whilst our selfe sit,
But as spectator of this Sceane of wit.
_Cri._ Thankes royall Lord, for these high honors done,
To me vnworthie, my mindes brightest fires
Shall all consume them selues, in purest flame,
|2435| On the Alter of your deare eternall name.
_Kin._ Not vnder vs, but next vs take thy Seate,
»_Artes nourished by Kings make Kings more great_,
Vse thy Authority.
_Cris._ Demetrius.
|2440| Call in that _selfe-creating Horace_, bring
Him and his _shaddow_ foorth.
_Dem._ Both shall appeare,
»_No black-eyed star must sticke in vertues Spheare_.
_Enter_ Sir Vaughan.
|2445| _Sir Va._ Ounds did you see him, I pray let all his Masesties
most excellent dogs, be set at liberties, and haue their freedoms to
smell him out.
_Dem._ Smell whom?
_Sir Vaugh._ Whom? The _Composer_, the _Prince of Poets_, _Horace_,
|2450| _Horace_, he’s departed: in Gods name and the Kinges I sarge
you to ring it out from all our eares, for Horaces bodie is departed:
Master hue and crie shall----God blesse King Williams, I crie you mercy
and aske forgiuenes, for mine eyes did not finde in their hearts to
looke vppon your Masestie.
|2455| _Kin._ What news with thee Sir Vaughan?
_Sir Vau._ Newes? God tis as vrse newes as I can desire to bring about
mee: our vnhansome-fac’d Poet does play at bo-peepes with your Grace,
and cryes all-hidde as boyes doe.
_Officers._ Stand by, roome there, backe, roome for the Poet.
|2460| _Sir Va._ He’s reprehended and taken, by Sesu I reioyce very
neere as much as if I had discouer’d a New-found Land, or the North and
East Indies.
_Enter_ Tucca, _his boy after him with two pictures vnder his
cloake, and a wreath of nettles_: Horace _and_ Bubo _pul’d in by
th’ hornes bound |2465| both like Satyres_, Sir Adam _following,
Mistris_ Miniuer _with him, wearing_ Tuccaes _chaine_.
_Tuc._ So, tug, tug, pull the mad Bull in by’th hornes: So, baite
one at that stake my place-mouth yelpers, and one at that stake
Gurnets-head.
|2470| _King._ What busie fellow’s this?
_Tuc._ Saue thee, my most gracious King a Harts saue thee, all hats and
caps are thine, and therefore I vaile: for but to thee great _Sultane
Soliman_, I scorne to be thus put off or to deliuer vp this sconce I
wud.
|2475| _Kin._ Sir Vaughan, what’s this iolly Captaines name?
_Sir Va._ Has a very sufficient name, and is a man has done God and
his Country as good and as hot Seruice (in conquering this vile
Monster-Poet) as euer did S. George his horse-backe about the Dragon.
|2480| _Tuc._ I sweate for’t, but Tawsoone, holde thy tongue, Mon
Dieu, if thou’t praise mee, doo’t behinde my backe: I am my weighty
Soueraigne one of thy graines, thy valliant vassaile; aske not what I
am, but read, turne ouer, vnclaspe thy Chronicles: there thou shalt
finde Buffe-Ierkin; there read my points of war; I am |2485| one a thy
Mandilian-Leaders; one that enters into thy royall bands for thee;
_Pantilius Tucca_; one of thy Kingdomes chiefest quarrellers; one a thy
most faithfull--fy--fy--fy----
_Sir Vau._ Drunkerds I holde my life.
_Tuc._ No _whirligig_, one of his faithfull fighters; thy drawer ô
|2490| royall _Tamor Cham_.
_Sir Vau._ Goe too, I pray Captaine Tucca, giue vs all leaue to doe our
busines before the King.
_Tuc._ With all my heart, shi, shi, shi shake that _Beare-whelp_ when
thou wut.
|2495| _Sir Vau._ Horace and Bubo, pray send an answere into his
Masesties eares, why you goe thus in Ouids Morter-Morphesis and strange
fashions of apparrell.
_Tuc._ Cur why?
_Asini._ My Lords, I was drawne into this beastly suite by head |2500|
and shoulders onely for loue I bare to my Ningle.
_Tuc._ Speake Ningle, thy mouth’s next, belch out, belch, why----
_Hor._ I did it to retyre me from the world;
And turne my _Muse_ into a _Timonist_,
Loathing the general Leprozie of Sinne,
|2505| Which like a plague runs through the soules of men:
I did it but to----
_Tu._ But to bite euery Motley-head vice by’th nose, you did it Ningle
to play the Bug-beare Satyre, & make a Campe royall of fashion-mongers
quake at your paper Bullets; you Nastie Tortois, |2510| you and your
Itchy Poetry breake out like Christmas, but once a yeare, and then you
keepe a Reuelling, & Araigning, & a Scratching of mens faces, as tho
you were Tyber the long-tail’d Prince of Rattes, doe you?
_Cri._ Horace.
|2515| _Sir Vaughan._ Silence, pray let all vrdes be strangled, or held
fast betweene your teeth.
_Cri._ Vnder controule of my dreade Soueraigne,
We are thy Iudges; thou that didst _Arraigne_,
Art now prepar’d for condemnation;
|2520| Should I but bid thy Muse stand to the Barre,
Thy selfe against her wouldst giue euidence:
For flat rebellion gainst the Sacred lawes
Of diuine Poesie: heerein most she mist,
_Thy pride and scorne made her turne Saterist,
|2525| And not her loue to vertue_ (as thou Preachest)
Or should we minister strong pilles to thee:
What lumpes of hard and indigested stuffe,
Of bitter _Satirisme_, of _Arrogance_,
Of _Selfe-loue_, of _Detraction_, of a blacke
|2530| And stinking _Insolence_ should we fetch vp?
But none of these, we giue thee what’s more fit,
With stinging nettles Crowne his stinging wit.
_Tuc._ Wel said my Poeticall huckster, now he’s in thy handling rate
him, doe rate him well.
|2535| _Hor._ O I beseech your Maiesty, rather then thus to be netled,
Ile ha my Satyres coate pull’d ouer mine eares, and bee turn’d out a
the nine Muses Seruice.
_Asin._ And I too, let mee be put to my shiftes with myne Ningle.
_Sir Vau._ By Sesu so you shall M. Bubo; flea off this hairie skin
|2540| M. Horace, so, so, so, vntrusse, vntrusse.
_Tuc._ His Poeticall wreath my dapper puncke-fetcher.
_Hor._ Ooh----
_Sir Vau._ Nay your oohs, nor your _Callin-oes_ cannot serue your
turne; your tongue you know is full of blisters with rayling,
|2545| your face full of pockey-holes and pimples, with your fierie
inuentions: and therefore to preserue your head from aking, this Biggin
is yours,----nay by Sesu you shall bee a Poet, though not Lawrefyed,
yet Nettlefyed, so:
_Tuc._ Sirra stincker, thou’rt but vntruss’d now, I owe thee a |2550|
whipping still, and Ile pay it: I haue layde roddes in Pisse and
Vineger for thee: It shall not bee the _Whipping a’ th Satyre_, nor the
Whipping of the blinde-Beare, but of a counterfeit Iugler, that steales
the name of Horace.
_Kin._ How? counterfeit? does hee vsurpe that name?
|2555| _Sir Vau._ Yes indeede ant please your Grace, he does sup vp
that abhominable name.
_Tuc._ Hee does O King _Cambises_, hee does: thou hast no part of
Horace in thee but’s name, and his damnable vices: thou hast such a
terrible mouth, that thy beard’s afraide to peepe out: but, |2560|
looke heere you staring Leuiathan, heere’s the sweete visage of
Horace; looke perboylde-face, looke; Horace had a trim long-beard,
and a reasonable good face for a Poet, (as faces goe now-a-dayes)
Horace did not skrue and wriggle himselfe into great Mens famyliarity,
(impudentlie) as thou doost: nor weare the |2565| Badge of Gentlemens
company, as thou doost thy Taffetie sleeues tackt too onely with
some pointes of profit: No, Horace had not his face puncht full of
Oylet-holes, like the couer of a warming-pan: Horace lou’d Poets well,
and gaue Coxcombes to none but fooles; but thou lou’st none, neither
Wisemen nor fooles, but |2570| thy selfe: Horace was a goodly Corpulent
Gentleman, and not so leane a hollow-cheekt Scrag as thou art: No,
heere’s thee Coppy of thy countenance, by this will I learne to make a
number of villanous faces more, and to looke scuruily vpon’th world, as
thou dost.
|2575| _Cri._ Sir Vaughan will you minister their oath?
_Sir Vau._ Master Asinius Bubo, you shall sweare as little as you can,
one oath shall damme vp your Innocent mouth.
_Asin._ Any oath Sir, Ile sweare any thing.
_Sir Va._ You shall sweare, by _Phœbus_ (who is your Poets good |2580|
Lord and Master,) that heere-after you will not hyre Horace, to giue
you poesies for rings, or hand-kerchers, or kniues which you vnderstand
not, nor to write your Loue-letters; which you (in turning of a hand)
set your markes vpon, as your owne: nor you shall not carry Lattin
Poets about you, till you can write |2585| and read English at most;
and lastlye that you shall not call Horace your Ningle.
_Asin._ By _Phœbus_ I sweare all this, and as many oathes as you will,
so I may trudge.
_Sir Vau._ Trudge then, pay your legs for Fees, and bee dissarg’d.
|2590| _Tuc._ Tprooth----runne Red-cap, ware hornes there.
_Exit Asi._
_Sir Va._ Now Master Horace, you must be a more horrible swearer, for
’your oath must be (like your wittes) of many collours; and like a
Brokers booke of many parcels.
_Tuc._ Read, read; th’inuentory of his oath.
|2595| _Hor._ Ile sweare till my haire stands vp an end, to bee rid of
this sting, oh this sting!
_Sir Vau._ Tis not your sting of conscience, is it?
_Tuc._ Vpon him: _Inprimis_.
_Sir Vaugh._ _Inprimis_, you shall sweare by _Phœbus_ and the |2600|
halfe a score Muses lacking one: not to sweare to hang your selfe, if
you thought any Man, Ooman or Silde, could write Playes and Rimes, as
well-fauour’d ones as your selfe.
_Tuc._ Well sayd, hast brought him toth gallowes already?
_Sir Vaugh._ You shall sweare not to bumbast out a new Play, |2605|
with the olde lynings of Iestes, stolne from the Temples Reuels.
_Tuc._ To him olde Tango.
_Sir Va._ Moreouer, you shall not sit in a Gallery, when your Comedies
and Enterludes haue entred their Actions, and there make vile and bad
faces at euerie lyne, to make Sentlemen haue |2610| an eye to you, and
to make Players afraide to take your part.
_Tuc._ Thou shalt be my Ningle for this.
_Sir Vau._ Besides, you must forsweare to venter on the stage, when
your Play is ended, and to exchange curtezies, and complements with
Gallants in the Lordes roomes, to make all the |2615| house rise vp in
Armes, and to cry that’s Horace, that’s he, that’s he, that’s he, that
pennes and purges Humours and diseases.
_Tuc._ There boy, agen.
_Sir Vau._ Secondly, when you bid all your friends to the marriage of a
poore couple, that is to say: your _Wits and necessities, |2620| alias
dictus, to the rifling of your Muse: alias, your Muses vp-sitting:
alias a Poets Whitson-Ale_; you shall sweare that within three dayes
after, you shall not abroad, in Booke-binders shops, brag that your
_Vize-royes_ or _Tributorie-Kings_, haue done homage to you, or paide
quarterage.
|2625| _Tuc._ Ile busse thy head Holofernes.
_Sir Vaugh._ Moreouer and _Inprimis_, when a Knight or Sentlemen of
vrship, does giue you his passe-port, to trauaile in and out to his
Company, and giues you money for Gods sake; I trust in Sesu, you will
sweare (tooth and nayle) not to make |2630| scalde and wry-mouth Iestes
vpon his Knight-hood, will you not?
_Hor._ I neuer did it by Parnassus.
_Tuc._ Wut sweare by Parnassus and lye too, Doctor Doddipol?
_Sir Va._ Thirdly, and last of all sauing one, when your Playes are
misse-likt at Court, you shall not crye Mew like a Pusse-cat, |2635|
and say you are glad you write out of the Courtiers Element.
_Tuc._ Let the Element alone, tis out a thy reach.
_Sir Vau._ In brieflynes, when you Sup in Tauernes, amongst your
betters, you shall sweare not to dippe your Manners in too much sawce,
nor at Table to fling Epigrams, Embleames, or |2640| Play-speeches
about you (lyke Hayle-stones) to keepe you out of the terrible daunger
of the Shot, vpon payne to sit at the vpper ende of the Table, a’th
left hand of Carlo Buffon: sweare all this, by Apollo and the eight or
nine Muses.
_Hor._ By Apollo, Helicon, the Muses (who march three and |2645| three
in a rancke) and by all that belongs to Pernassus, I sweare all this.
_Tuc._ Beare witnes.
_Cris._ That fearefull wreath, this honour is your due,
_All Poets shall be Poet-Apes but you_;
|2650| Thankes (_Learnings true Mecænas, Poesies king_)
Thankes for that gracious eare, which you haue lent,
To this most tedious, most rude argument.
_Kin._ Our spirits haue well beene feasted; he whose pen
Drawes both corrupt, and cleare bloud from all men:
|2655| (Careles what veine he prickes) let him not raue,
When his owne sides are strucke, blowes, blowes, doe craue.
_Tuc._ Kings-truce, my noble Hearbe-a-grace; my Princely sweet-William,
a boone--Stay first, Ist a match or no match, Lady Furniuall Ist?
|2660| _Sir Ad._ & _Sir quint._ A match?
_Mini._ I, a match, since he hath hit the Mistris so often 1’th
fore-game, we’ll eene play out a rubbers.
_Sir Ada._ Take her for me.
_Sir quin._ Take her for thy selfe, not for me.
|2665| _Sir Vau._ Play out your rubbers in Gods name, by Sesu Ile neuer
boule more in your Alley, Iddow.
_Sir Quin._ My Chaine.
_Sir Adam._ My Purse.
_Tuc._ Ile Chaine thee presently, and giue thee ten pound and |2670| a
purse: a boone my Leige: ... daunce ô my delicate Rufus, at my wedding
with this reuerend Antiquary; ist done? wut thou?
_Kin._ Ile giue thee Kingly honour: _Night_ and _Sleepe_,
With silken Ribands would tye vp our eyes,
|2675| But Mistris Bride, one measure shall be led,
In scorne of Mid-nights hast, and then to bed.
_Exeunt._
_Epilogus:_
_Tucca._ Gentlemen, Gallants, and you my little Swaggerers that fight
lowe: my tough hearts of Oake that stand too’t so valliantly, and are
still within a yard of your Capten: Now |2680| the Trumpets (that set
men together by the eares) haue left their Tantara-rag-boy, let’s part
friends. I recant, beare witnes all you Gentle-folkes (that walke i’th
Galleries) I recant the opinions which I helde of Courtiers, Ladies,
& Cittizens, when once (in an assembly of Friers) I railde vpon them:
that Hereticall |2685| Libertine Horace, taught me so to mouth it.
Besides, twas when stiffe Tucca was a boy: twas not Tucca that railde
and roar’d then, but the Deuill & his Angels: But now, Kings-truce, the
Capten Summons a parlee, and deliuers himselfe and his prating company
into your hands, vpon what composition you |2690| wil. Are you pleas’d?
and Ile dance Friskin for ioy, but if you be not, by’th Lord Ile see
you all----heere for your two pence a peice agen, before Ile loose your
company. I know now some be come hyther with cheekes swolne as big with
hisses, as if they had the tooth-ach: vds-foote, if I stood by them,
Ide bee |2695| so bold as----intreate them to hisse in another place.
Are you aduiz’d what you doe when you hisse? you blowe away Horaces
reuenge: but if you set your hands and Seales to this, Horace will
write against it, and you may haue more sport: he shall not loose his
labour, he shall not turne his blanke verses into |2700| wast paper:
No, my Poetasters will not laugh at him, but will vntrusse him agen,
and agen, and agen. Ile tell you what you shall doe, cast your little
Tucca into a Bell: doe, make a Bell of me, and be al you my clappers,
vpon condition, wee may haue a lustie peale,
|2705| this colde weather: I haue but two legs left me,
and they are both yours: Good night
my two penny Tenants
God night.
_FINIS._
TEXT-NOTEN.
{ A₁ = beide Exemplare im Brit. Museum
A =
{ A₂ = Exemplare d. Dyce-Libr. und d. Bodleiana.
=42.= A: haue haue bin,
=73.= A: pa
=113/4.= A: to deckei th’ nuisible
=338.= A: this;
=360.= A: it:
=377.= A: I adorn’d [cf. Ad Lectorem, Z. 61.]
=389.= A: _Asi._ Why
=409.= A: Ile starte thence poore [cf. Ad Lectorem, Z. 63.]
=412.= A: Comedies
=413.= A: ranke
=419.= A: it:
=429.= A: yet;
=464.= A: doe struie
=497.= A: with her dregs [cf. Ad Lectorem, Z. 65.]
=502.= A: off the head [cf. Ad Lectorem, Z. 67.]
=514.= A: fiue hundred, foure hundred fiue, [cf. Ad Lectorem, Z. 69.]
=557.= A: friends,
=575.= A: whether
=591.= A: Flacucs.
=607.= A: Coale come?
=633.= A: vauward
=677.= A: then:
=682.= A: _Exeunt:_
=696.= A: Vanghan,
=704.= A: _Sir. Vaug._
=765.= A: _Sir quin_
=773.= A₁: he Ladyes.... come-
tye.
=810.= A: _Vaugh;_
=831.= A: feauer:
=846.= A: meete;
=863.= A₁: Short-hose
=888.= A: morrow,
=957.= A: & sayes he sayes hyee, Master
=995.= A₂: prophceing;
=1003.= A₂: wide a
=1006.= A: _Sir. Adam._
=1012.= A₁: words
=1025.= A₂: mightie I
=1029/30.= A₂: man, and ... world,
=1050.= A: shall he
=1064.= A₂: Pridegroome,
=1101.= A: bitterlie:
=1107.= A: M, Horace,
=1234.= A: Custos p. F₃: bond,
=1260.= A: supplications now
=1265.= A: _Tuc_,
=1274.= A₂: Right for
=1310.= A: _Sir. Vau._
=1312.= A: _Sir. Vau._
=1317.= A: guest.
=1328.= A: This enterchanging of Languages; [cf. Ad Lectorem, Z. 71.]
=1335.= A: out speech;
=1403.= A₂: then, then then
=1406.= A: _Sir. Vau._
=1408.= A₁: so, tis
=1409.= A: ali past
=1424.= A: Custos G₂: then
=1531.= A: i[inverted t],
=1578.= A: _Sir._
=1584.= A: sansomely
=1587.= A: Custos: whoreson,
=1615.= A₂: on,
=1648.= A: Will,
=1661.= A₁: Armes,
=1681.= A: wrong.
=1758.= A: £’. der scheinbare Apostroph ist vielleicht ein in die Höhe
geratenes Komma.
=1771.= A: leader Custos: leader,
=1773.= A: come:
=1796.= A: La_dies_,
=1804.= A: begin.
=1806.= A: winne.
=1809.= A: _Bin._ To prooue
=1865.= A: _best_,
=1930.= A: indgement
=1998.= A₂: Horace they (nur copy d. Bodl.)
=2002.= A: Fl in Flat sehr schlecht gedruckt.
=2018.= A₁: cheekcs
=2063.= A: terrible,
=2083.= A: _migling_
=2115.= A: resoluion,
=2169.= A: alread? yfoylde
=2237.= A: _Drinkes_
=2257.= A: ready,
=2271.= A₁: _Peace._ Interpunktion undeutlich.
=2289.= A: Gods.
=2309.= A: _it set_
=2322.= A₁: Liege they’re A: gallants,
=2348.= A₂: motion; motionles? A₁: motionles;
=2357.= A₁: eyes.
=2384.= A: boldnes ont
=2476.= A₂: don das e kann auch abgesprungen sein.
=2480.= A₁: tongue Mon du,
=2481.= A₂: me
=2490.= A₂: Tam or Cham
=2522.= A: lawes,
=2530.= A: And stinging [cf. Ad Lectorem, Z. 73.]
=2543.= A: _Tu._ Nay your
=2552.= A: bnt of
=2578.= A: _Cris._ Any
=2587.= A: _Cris._ By
=2596.= A₁: oh this sting.
=2612.= A: _Sir Vau_
=2618.= A: _Sir Vvu._
=2630.= A₁: wlll you
=2685.= A: tanght
ANMERKUNGEN.
SEITE 1. Das lateinische Citat stammt aus: ~Horaz~, _Sat._ I. 4, 73.
SEITE 3. Ad Detractorem; _Martial_, _Epgr._ lib. XIII. 2.
=5/6.= ~Virgil~, _Aeneis_, III. 658: _monstrum horrendum informe
ingens, cui lumen ademptum_.
=8.= Poetomachia = der sog. Stage-Quarrel.
Horace the second = ~Ben Jonson~.
=9.= _a band of...._ Poetasters: sc. ~Marston~, ~Dekker~, ~Monday~
und vielleicht auch ~Shakespeare~, für den besonders ~Small~,
_Stage-Quarrel_ p. 7 u. 133 ff eintritt.
=12.= Horace _hal’d his_ Poetasters _to the Barre_: namentlich mit dem
_Poetaster_.
_the_ Poetasters _vntruss’d_ Horace mit dem _Satiromastix_. Der
Plural Poetasters lässt vermuten, dass ~Dekker~ noch mindestens einen
Mitarbeiter, ~Marston~, hatte; cf. Einleitung, VIII. _untruss_ findet
sich bereits _Ev. Man out_, Merm. Ser. p. 154: "_Second Untruss of the
time_", womit ~Jonson~ auf ~Marstons~ _Scourge of Villanie_ anspielt;
ferner im _Poetaster_ (M. Ser. 372): _the Untrusser or Whippers of the
age_.