[_Enter_] APELLES, CAMPASPE [_and a little behind them_, PSYLLUS.]
_Apel._ Ladie, I doubt whether there bee any colour so fresh that may
shadow a countenance so faire.
_Camp._ Sir, I had thought you had bin commanded to paint with your
hand, not to glose[857] with your tongue; but as I have heard, it
is the hardest thing in painting to set downe a hard favour,[858]
which maketh you to despaire of my face; and then[859] shall you 5
have as great thankes to spare your labour as to discredit your art.
_Apel._ Mistris, you neither differ from your selfe nor your sexe;
for, knowing your owne perfection, you seeme to disprayse that which
men most commend, drawing them by that meane into an admiration 10
where, feeding themselves, they fall into an extasie; your modestie
being the cause of the one, and of the other your affections.
_Camp._ I am too young to understand your speech, though old enough
to withstand your devise. You have bin so long used to colours you
can doe nothing but colour.[860] 15
_Apel_ Indeed the colours I see, I feare will alter the colour I
have.[861] But come, madam, will you draw neere?--for Alexander
will be here anon. Psyllus, stay you here at the window. If any
enquire for mee, answere, _Non lubet esse domi._
_Exeunt_ [_Apelles and Campaspe._[862]]
_Psyllus._ It is alwayes my masters fashion when any faire
gentle-woman is to be drawne within to make me to stay without. 20
But if hee should paint Jupiter like a bull, like a swanne, like an
eagle, then must Psyllus with one hand grind colours and with the
other hold the candle. But let him alone! The better hee shadowes
her face, the more will he burne his owne heart. And now if any 25
man could meet with Manes, who, I dare say, lookes as leane as if
Diogenes dropped out of his nose.[863] [_Enter_ MANES.]
_Manes._ And here comes Manes, who hath as much meate in his
maw as thou hast honestie in thy head.
_Psyllus._ Then I hope thou art very hungry. 30
_Manes._ They that know thee know that.
_Psyllus._ But doest thou not remember that wee have certaine
liquor to conferre withall.
_Manes._ I, but I have businesse; I must goe cry a thing.
_Psyllus._ Why, what hast thou lost? 35
_Manes._ That which I never had,--my dinner!
_Psyllus._ Foule lubber, wilt thou crie for thy dinner?
_Manes._ I meane I must crie,--not as one would say "crie,"
but "crie,"[864] that is, make a noyse.
_Psyllus._ Why foole, that is all one; for, if thou crie, thou must 40
needs make a noyse.
_Manes._ Boy, thou art deceived: crie hath divers significations,
and may be alluded to many things; knave but one,[865] and can be
applyed but to thee.
_Psyllus._ Profound Manes! 45
_Manes._ Wee Cynickes are mad fellowes. Didst thou not finde
I did quip thee?
_Psyllus._ No, verily! Why, what's a quip?
_Manes._ Wee great girders call it a short saying of a sharpe wit,
with a bitter sense in a sweet word. 50
_Psyllus._ How canst thou thus divine, divide, define, dispute, and
all on the sodaine?
_Manes._ Wit will have his swing! I am bewitcht, inspired, inflamed,
infected.
_Psyllus._ Well then will I not tempt thy gybing spirit. 55
_Manes._ Doe not, Psyllus, for thy dull head will bee but
a grind-stone for my quicke wit, which if thou whet with
overthwarts,[866] _periisti, actum est de te_! I have drawne bloud
at ones braines with a bitter bob.
_Psyllus._ Let me crosse my selfe; for I die if I crosse thee. 60
_Manes._ Let me doe my businesse. I my selfe am afraid lest my wit
should waxe warme, and then must it needs consume some hard head
with fine and prettie jests. I am sometimes in such a vaine that,
for want of some dull pate to worke on, I begin to gird my selfe. 65
_Psyllus._ The gods shield me from such a fine fellow, whose
words melt wits like waxe.
_Manes._ Well then, let us to the matter. In faith, my master
meaneth to morrow to flie.
_Psyllus._ It is a jest. 70
_Manes._ Is it a jest to flie? Shouldest thou flie so soone, thou
shouldest repent it in earnest.
_Psyllus._ Well, I will be the cryer.
_Manes and Psyllus_ (_one after another_). O ys! O ys! O ys![867] All
manner of men, women, or children, that will come to morrow into 75
the market place betweene the houres of nine and ten shall see
Diogenes the Cynicke--flie.[868]
_Psyllus._ I doe not thinke he will flie.
_Manes._ Tush, say "flie!"
_Psyllus._ Flie. 80
_Manes._ Now let us goe; for I will not see him againe till
midnight,--I have a backe way into his tub.
_Psyllus._ Which way callest thou the backe way, when every way
is open?
_Manes._ I meane to come in at his backe. 85
_Psyllus._ Well, let us goe away, that we may returne speedily.
_Exeunt._