Cynthia's REVELS, OR The Fountain of self-love. A Comical Satire. Acted, in the year 1600. By the then Children of Queen Elizabeth's Chapel.  
The Author B. I.  MART. 
Nasutum volo, nolo polyposum.  
LONDON, Printed by WILLIAM STANSBY.  
MDCXVI XVI.   

TO THE SPECIAL fountain OF MANNERS: The Court.  
THou art a bountiful, and brave spring: and waterest all the noble plants of this Island. In thee, the whole Kingdom dresseth itself, and is ambitious to use thee as her glass. Beware, then, thou render men's figures truly, and teach them no less to bate their deformities, than to love their forms: For, to grace, there should come reverence; and no man can call that lovely, which is not also venerable. It is not powdering, perfuming, and every day smelling of the tailor, that converteth to a beautiful object: but a mind, shining through any suit, which needs no false light either of riches, or honours to help it. Such shalt thou find some here, even in the reign of CYNTHIA (a CRITES, and an ARETE.) Now, under thy PHOEBUS, it will be thy province to make more: Except thou desirest to have thy source mix with the Spring of self-love, and so wilt draw upon thee as welcome a discovery of thy days, as was then made of her nights.  
Thy servant, but not slave, BEN JONSON.   

The Persons of the Play.  

CYNTHIA.  
MERCURY.  
HESPERUS.  
CRITES.  
AMORPHUS.  
ASOTUS.  
HEDON.  
ANAIDES.  
MORPHIDES.  
PROSAITES.  
MORUS.  
CUPID.  
ECHO.  
ARETE.  
PHANTASTE.  
ARGURION.  
PHILAUTIA.  
MORIA.  
COS.  
GELAIA.  
PHRONESIS. Mutes.  
THAUMA. Mutes.  
TIME. Mutes.   
THE SCENE. gargaphy.   

Cynthia's REVELS  

After the second sounding.  INDUCTION. BY THREE OF THE CHILDREN. 
PRay you away; why fellows? God's so? what do you mean?  2. 
marry that you shall not speak the Prologue, sir.  3. 
Why? do you hope to speak it?  2. 
ay, and I think I have most right to it: I am sure I studied it first.  3. 
That's all one, if the Author think I can speak it better.  1. 
I plead possession of the cloak: Gentles, your suffrages I pray you.  
¶ Why Children are you not ashamed? Within. come in there.  3. 
'Slid, I'll play nothing i' the Play: unless I speak it.  1. 
Why, will you stand to most voices of the gentlemen! let that decide it.  3. 
O no, sir gallant; you presume to have the start of us there, and that makes you offer so prodigally.  1. 
No, would I were whipped, if I had any such thought: try it by lots either.  2. 
Faith, I dare tempt my fortune in a greater venture than this.  3. 
Well said, resolute Jack, I am content too: so we draw first. Make the cuts.  1. 
But will you not snatch my cloak, while I am stooping?  3. 
No, we scorn treachery.  2. 
Which cut shall speak it?  3. 
The shortest.  1. 
Agreed.  Draw. 
The shortest is come to the shortest. Fortune was not altogether blind in this. Now, sir, I hope I shall go forward without your envy.  2. 
A spite of all mischievous luck! I was once plucking at the other.  3. 
Stay, Jack: Slid, I'll do somewhat now afore I go in, though it be nothing but to revenge myself on the Author: since I speak not his Prologue. I'll go tell all the argument of his play aforehand, and so stole his invention to the auditory before it come forth.  1. 
At the breaches in this speech following, the other two interrupt him, still. O, do not so.  2. 
By no means.  3. 
First, the title of his play is Cynthia's Revels, as any man (that hath hope to be saved by his book) can witness; the Scene, gargaphy: which I do vehemently suspect for some fustian country, but let that vanish. Here, is the court of CYNTHIA, whither he brings CUPID (travailing on foot) resolved to turn page. By the way, CUPID meets with mercury, (as that's a thing to be noted, take any of our playbooks without a CUPID, or a MERCURY in it, and burn it for an heretic in Poetry)— Pray thee let me alone. MERCURY, he (in the nature of a conjurer) raises up echo, who weeps over her love, or Daffodil, NARCISSUS, a little; sings; curses the spring wherein the pretty foolish gentleman melted himself away: and there's an end of her.— Now I am to inform you, that CUPID, and MERCURY do both become pages. CUPID attends on PHILAUTIA, or self-love, a court-lady MERCURY follows HEDON, the voluptuous, and a courtier; one that ranks himself even with ANAIDES, or the impudent, a gallant, (and that's my part:) one that keeps laughter, GELAIA the daughter of folly, (a wench in boys' attire) to wait on him— These, in the court, meet with AMORPHUS, or the deformed; a travailer that hath drunk of the fountain, and there tells the wonders of the water. They presently dispatch away their pages with bottles to fetch of it, and themselves go to visit the ladies. But I should have told you— (Look, these emmets put me out here) that with this AMORPHUS, there comes along a citizen's heir, ASOTUS, or the prodigal, who (in imitation of the traveler, who hath the whetstone following him) entertains the beggar, to be his attendant.— Now, the Nymphs who are mistresses to these gallants, are PHILAUTIA, self-love; PHANTASTE, a light wittiness; ARGURION money; and their Guardian, mother MORIA; or mistress folly.—  1. 
Pray thee no more.  3. 
There CUPID strikes money in love with the prodigal, makes her dote upon him, give him jewels, bracelets, carcanets, etc. all which (he most ingeniously departs withal) to be made known to the other ladies and gallants; and in the heat of this, increases his train with the fool to follow him, as well as the beggar.— By this time, your beggar begins to wait close, who is returned with the rest of his fellow bottle-men.— There they all drink, save ARGURION, who is fallen into a sudden apoplexy.—  1. 
Stop his mouth.  3. 
And then, there's a retired scholar there, you would not wish a thing to be better contemned of a society of gallants, than it is: and he applies his service (good gentleman) to the lady ARETE, or virtue, a poor Nymph of Cynthia's train, that's scarce able to buy herself a gown, you shall see her play in a black rob anon: A creature, that (I assure you) is no less scorned, than himself. Where am I now? at a stand?  2. 
Come, leave at last, yet.  3. 
O, the night is come, ('twas somewhat dark, methought) and CYNTHIA intends to come forth: (That helps it a little yet.) All the courtiers must provide for revels; they conclude upon a mask, the device of which, is— (what, will you ravish me?) that each of these vices, being to appear before CYNTHIA, would seem other than indeed they are: and therefore assume the most neighbouring virtues as their masking habits.— (I'd cry, a rape, but that you are children.)  2. 
Come, we'll have no more of this anticipation: to give them the inventory of their cates aforehand, were the discipline of a tavern, and not fitting this presence.  1. 
Tut, this was but to show us the happiness of his memory. I thought at first, he would have played the ignorant critic with every thing, along as he had gone, I expected some such device.  3. 
O, you shall see me do that, rarely, lend me thy cloak.  1. 
Soft, sir, you'll speak my Prologue in it.  3. 
No, would I might never stir then.  2. 
Lend it him, lend it him.  1. 
Well, you have sworn.  3. 
I have. Now, sir, suppose I am one of your gentile auditors, that an come in (having paid my money at the door, with much ado) and here I take my place, and sit down: I have my three sorts of tobacco in my pocket, my sight by me, and thus I begin. By this light, I wonder that any man is so mad, At the breaches he takes his tobacco. to come to see these rascally Tits play here— They do act like so many wrens, or pismires— not the fift part of a good face amongst them all— And then their music is abominable— able to stretch a man's ears worse than ten— pillories, and their ditties— most lamentable things, like the pitiful fellows that make them— Poets. By this vapour, and 'twere not for tobacco— I think— the very stench of 'em would poison me, I should not dare to come in at their gates— A man were better visit fifteen jails,— or a dozen or two of hospitals— then once adventure to come near them. How is't? Well?  1. 
Excellent: give me my cloak.  3. 
Stay; you shall see me do another now: but a more sober, or better-gathered gallant; that is (as it may be thought) some friend, or wellwisher to the house: And here I enter.  1. 
What? upon the stage, too?  2. 
Yes: and I step forth like one of the children, and ask you, Would you have a stool, sir?  3. 
A stool, boy?  2. 
ay, sir, if you'll give me six pence, I'll fetch you one.  3. 
For what I pray thee? what shall I do with it?  2. 
O lord, sir! will you betray your ignorance so much? why throne yourself in state on the stage, as other gentlemen use, sir.  3. 
Away, wag, what, wouldst thou make an implement of me? Slid the boy takes me for a piece of perspective (I hold my life) or some silk curtain, come to hang the stage here! sir crack, I am none of your fresh pictures, that use to beautify the decayed dead arras, in a public theatre.  2. 
'tis a sign, sir, you put not that confidence in your good clothes, and your better face, that a gentleman should do, sir. But I pray you sir, let me be a suitor to you, that you will quit our stage then, and take a place, the play is instantly to begin.  3 
Most willingly, my good wag: but I would speak with your Author, where's he?  2. 
Not this way, I assure you, sir: we are not so officiously befriended by him, as to have his presence in the tiring-house, to prompt us aloud, stamp at the book-holder, swear for our properties, curse the poor tireman, rail the music out of tune, and sweat for every venial trespass we commit, as some Author would, if he had such fine angles as we. Well, 'tis but our hard fortune.  3. 
Nay, crack, be not disheartened.  2. 
Not I, sir, but if you please to confer with our Author, by attorney, you may, sir: our proper self here, stands for him.  3. 
Troth, I have no such serious affair to negotiate with him, but what may very safely be turned upon thy trust. It is in the general behalf of this fair society here, that I am to speak, at least the more judicious part of it, which seems much distasted with the immodest and obscene writing of many, in their plays. Besides, they could wish, your Poets would leave to be promoters of other men's jests, and to waylay all the stale apothegms, or old books, they can hear of (in print, or otherwise) to farce their Scenes withal. That they would not so penuriously glean wit, from every laundress, or hackneyman, or derive their best grace (with servile imitation) from common stages, or observation of the company they converse with; as if their invention lived wholly upon another man's trencher. Again, that feeding their friends with nothing of their own, but what they have twice or thrice cooked, they should not want only give out, how soon they had dressed it; nor how many coaches came to carry away the broken-meat, besides hobby-horses, and foot-cloth nags.  2. 
So, sir, this is all the reformation you seek?  3. 
It is: do not you think it necessary to be practised, my little wag?  2. 
Yes, where any such ill-habited custom is received.  3. 
O (I had almost forgot it too) they say, the umbrae, or ghosts of some three or four plays, departed a dozen years since, have been seen walking on your stage here: take heed, boy, if your house be haunted with such hobgoblins, 'twill fright away all your spectators quickly.  2. 
Good, sir, but what will you say now, if a Poet (untouched with any breath of this disease) find the tokens upon you, that are of the auditory? As some one civet-wit among you, that knows no other learning, than the price of satin and velvets; nor other perfection, than the wearing of a neat suit; and yet will censure as desperately as the most professed critic in the house: presuming, his clothes should bear him out in't. Another (whom it hath pleased nature to furnish with more beard, than brain) prunes his mustaccio, lisps, and (with some score of affected oaths) swears down all that sit about him; That the old Hieronimo, (as it was first acted) was the only best, and judiciously penned play of Europe. A third great-bellied juggler talks of twenty years since, and when MONSIEUR was here, and would enforce all wits to be of that fashion, because his doublet is still so. A fourth miscalls all by the name of fustian, that his grounded capacity cannot aspire to. A fift, only shakes his bottlehead, and out of his corky brain, squeezeth out a pitiful-learned face, and is silent.  3. 
By my faith, Jack, you have put me down: I would I knew how to get off with any indifferent grace. Here, take your cloak, and promise some satisfaction in your Prologue, or (I'll be sworn) we have marred all.  2. 
Tut, fear not, child, this will never distaste a true sense: Be not out, and good enough. I would thou hadst some sugar-candied, to sweeten thy mouth.   

The third sounding. prologue.  
IF gracious silence, sweet attention,  
Quick sight, and quicker apprehension,  
(The lights of judgements throne) shine anywhere;  
Our doubtful author hopes this is their sphere.  
And therefore opens he himself to those;  
To other weaker beams, his labours close:  
As loath to prostitute their virgin strain,  
To every vulgar, and adulterate brain.  
In this alone, his MUSE her sweetness hath,  
She shuns the print of any beaten path;  
And proves new ways to come to learned ears:  
Pied ignorance she neither loves, nor fears.  
Nor hunts she after popular applause,  
Or foamy praise, that drops from common jaws:  
The garland that she wears, their hands must twine,  
Who can both censure, understand, define  
What merit is: Then cast those piercing rays,  
Round as a crown, in stead of honoured bays,  
About his poesy; which (he knows) affords  
Words, above action: matter, above words.    


Act I. Scene I.  CUPID, mercury. 
WHo goes there?  MER. 
'tis I, blind archer.  CVP. 
Who? mercury?  MER. 
I.  CVP. 
Farewell.  MER. 
Stay, CUPID.  CVP. 
Not in your company, HERMES, except your hands were riveted at your back.  MER. 
Why so my little rower?  CVP. 
Because I know, you ha' not a finger, but is as long as my quiver (cousin mercury) when you please to extend it.  MER. 
Whence derive you this speech, boy?  CVP. 
O! 'tis your best polity to be ignorant. You did never steal MARS his sword out of the sheath, you? nor NEPTUNES trident? nor Apollo's how? no, not you? Alas, your palms (JUPITER knows) they are as tender as the foot of a foundered nag, or a Lady's face new mercuried, they'll touch nothing.  MER. 
Go too (infant) you'll be daring still.  CVP. 
Daring? O JANUS! what a word is there? why, my light feather-heeled cousin, what are you? any more than my uncle joves pandar, a lackey, that runs on errands for him, and can whisper a light message to a loose wench with some round volubility, wait mannerly at a table with a trencher, and warble upon a crowd a little, fill out nectar, when ganymed's away, one that sweeps the Gods drinking room every morning, and sets the cushions in order again, which they threw one at another's head overnight, can brush the carpets, call the stools again to their places, play the crier of the court with an audible voice, and take state of a precedent upon you at wrestlings, pleadings, negotiations, etc. Here's the catalogue o' your employments now. O no, I err, you have the marshalling of all the ghosts too, that pass the stygian ferry, and I suspect you for a share with the old sculler there, if the truth were known; but let that scape. One other peculiar virtue you possess, in lifting, or legerdemain, (which few of the house of heaven have else besides) I must confess. But (methinks) that should not make you put that extreme distance twixt yourself and others, that we should be said to overdare in speaking to your nimble deity? So HERCULES might challenge priority of us both, because he can throw the bar farther, or lift more joined stools at the arms end, than we. If this might carry it, than we who have made the whole body of divinity tremble at the twang of our bow, and enforced SATURNIUS himself to lay by his curled front, thunder, and three-forked fires, and put on a masking suit, too light for a reveller of eighteen, to be seen in—  MER. 
How now! my dancing braggart in decimo sexto! charm your skipping tongue, or I'll—  CVP. 
What? use the virtue of your snaky tipstaff there upon us?  MER. 
No, boy, but the smart vigour of my palm about your ears. You have forgot since I took your heels up into air (on the very hour I was borne) in sight of all the bench of deities, when the silver-roof of the Olympian palace rung again with applause of the fact.  CVP. 
O no, I remember it freshly, and by a particular instance; for my mother VENUS (at the same time) but stooped to embrace you, and (to speak by metaphor) you borrowed a girdle of hers, as you did joves sceptre (while he was laughing) and would have done his thunder too, but that 'twas too hot for your itching fingers.  MER. 
'tis well, sir.  CVP. 
I heard, you but looked in at Vulcan's forge the other day, and entreated a pair of his new tongues along with you, for company: 'tis joy on you (i'faith) that you will keep your hooked talons in practice with any thing. 'slight, now you are on earth, we shall have you filch spoons and candlesticks, rather than fail: pray JOVE the perfumed courtiers keep their casting-bottles, picktooths, and shittle-cocks from you; or our more ordinary gallants their tobacco-boxes, for I am strangely jealous of your nails.  MER. 
ne'er trust me, CUPID, but you are turned a most acute gallant of late, the edge of my wit is clear taken off with the fine and subtle stroke of your thin-ground tongue, you fight with too poignant a phrase, for me to deal with.  CVP. 
O HERMES, your craft cannot make me confident. I know my own steel to be almost spent, and therefore entreat my peace with you, in time: you are too cunning for me to encounter at length, and I think it my safest ward to close.  MER. 
Well, for once, I'll suffer you to win upon me, wag, but use not these strains too often, they'll stretch my patience. Whither might you march, now?  CVP. 
Faith (to recover thy good thoughts) I'll discover my whole project. The Huntress, and Queen of these groves, DIANA (in regard of some black and envious slanders hourly breathed against her, for her divine justice on Actaeon, as she pretends) hath here in the vale of Geography, proclaimed a solemn revels, which (her godhead put off) she will descend to grace, with the full and royal expense of one of her clearest moons: In which time, it shall be lawful for all sorts of ingenuous persons, to visit her palace, to court her nymphs, to exercise all variety of generous and noble pastimes, as well to intimate how far she treads such malicious imputations beneath her, as also to show how clear her beauties are from the least wrinkle of austerity, they may be charged with.  MER. 
But, what is all this to CUPID?  CVP. 
Here do I mean to put off the title of a god, and take the habit of a page, in which disguise (during the interim of these revels) I will get to follow some one of Diana's maids, where (if my bow hold, and my shafts fly but with half the willingness, and aim they are directed) I doubt not, but I shall really redeem the minutes I have lost, by their so long and overnice proscription of my deity, from their court.  MER. 
Pursue it (divine CUPID) it will be rare.  CVP. 
But will HERMES second me?  MER. 
I am now to put in act, an especial designment from my father JOVE, but that performed, I am for any fresh action that offers itself.  CVP. 
Well, than we part.  MER. 
Farewell, good wag.  
Now, to my charge, echo, fair echo, speak,  
'tis mercury, that calls thee, sorrowful Nymph,  
Salute me with thy repercussive voice,  
That I may know what cavern of the earth  
Contains thy airy spirit, how, or where  
I may direct my speech, that thou mayst hear.   

ACT I. Scene II.  echo, mercury. 
HEre.  MER. 
So nigh?  ECC. 
I.  MER. 
Know (gentle soul) then, I am sent from JOVE,  
Who (pitying the sad burden of thy woes,  
Still growing on thee, in thy want of words,  
To vent thy passion for NARCISSUS death)  
Commands, that now (after three thousand years,  
Which have been exercised in Juno's spite)  
Thou take a corporal figure, and ascend,  
Enriched with vocal, and articulate power.  
Make haste, sad Nymph, thrice shall my winged rod  
Strike th'obsequious earth, to give thee way.  
Arise, and speak thy sorrows, echo, rise,  
Here, by this fountain, where thy love did pine,  
Whose memory lives fresh to vulgar fame,  
Shrined in this yellow flower, that bears his name.  ECC. 
His name revives, and lifts me up from earth.  
O, which way shall I first convert myself?  
Or in what mood shall I assay to speak,  
That (in a moment) I may be delivered  
Of the prodigious grief I go withal?  
See, see, the mourning fount, whose springs weep yet,  
Th' untimely fate of that too beauteous boy,  
That trophaee of self-love, and spoil of nature,  
Who (now transformed into this drooping flower)  
Hangs the repentant head, back from the stream,  
As if it wished, would I had never looked  
In such a flattering mirror. O NARCISSUS,  
Thou that wast once (and yet art) my NARCISSUS;  
Had echo but been private with thy thoughts,  
She would have dropped away herself in tears,  
Till she had all turned water, that in her,  
(As in a truer glass) thou mightst have gazed,  
And seen thy beauties by more kind reflection:  
But self-love never yet could look on truth,  
But with bleared beams; slick flattery and she  
Are twin borne sisters, and so mix their eyes,  
As if you sever one, the other dies.  
Why did the gods give thee a heavenly form,  
And earthy thoughts, to make thee proud of it?  
Why, do I ask? 'tis now the known disease  
That beauty hath, to bear too deep a sense  
Of her own self-conceived excellence.  
O, hadst thou known the worth of heavens rich gift,  
Thou wouldst have turned it to a truer use,  
And not (with starved, and covetous ignorance)  
Pinned in continual eyeing that bright gem,  
The glance whereof to others had been more,  
Than to thy famished mind the wide world's store:  
" So wretched is it to be merely rich.  
Witness thy youths dear sweets, here spent untasted,  
Like a fair taper, with his own flame wasted.  MER. 
echo, be brief, SATURNIA is abroad,  
And if she hear, she'll storm at joves high will.  ECC. 
I will (kind mercury) be brief as time.  
Vouchsafe me, I may do him these last rites,  
But kiss his flower, and sing some mourning strain  
Over his watery hearse.  MER. 
Thou dost obtain.  
I were no son to JOVE, should I deny thee.  
Begin, and (more to grace thy cunning voice)  
The humorous air shall mix her solemn tunes,  
With thy sad words: strike music from the spheres,  
And with your golden raptures swell our ears.  SONG. 
SLow, slow, fresh fount, keep time with my salt tears;  
Yet slower, yet, o faintly gentle springs:  
List to the heavy part the music bears,  
" Woe weeps out her division, when she sings.  
Droop herbs, and flowers;  
Fall grief in showers;  
" Our beauties are not ours:  
O, I could still  
(Like melting snow upon some craggy hill,)  
drop, drop, drop, drop,  
Since nature's pride is, now, a withered daffodil.  MER. 
Now, ha' you done?  ECC. 
Done presently (good HERMES) bide a little,  
Suffer my thirsty eye to gaze a while,  
But e'en to taste the place, and I am vanished.  MER. 
forego thy use, and liberty of tongue,  
And thou mayst dwell on earth, and sport thee there.  ECC. 
Here young Actaeon fell, pursued, and torn  
By CYNTHIA'S wrath (more eager, than his hounds)  
And here, (ay me, the place is fatal) see  
The weeping NIOBE, translated hither  
From Phrygian mountains: and by PHoeBE reared  
As the proud trophaee of her sharp revenge.  MER. 
Nay, but hear.  ECC. 
But here, O here, the Fountain of self-love,  
In which LATONA, and her careless Nymphs,  
(Regardless of my sorrows) bathe themselves  
In hourly pleasures.  MER. 
Stint thy babbling tongue;  
Fond echo, thou profanest the grace is done thee:  
So idle worldlings (merely made of voice)  
Censure the powers above them. Come, away,  
JOVE calls thee hence, and his will brooks no stay.  ECC. 
O, stay: I have but one poor thought to clothe  
In airy garments, and then (faith) I go.  
Henceforth, thou treacherous, and murdering spring,  
Be ever called the Fountain of self-love:  
And with thy water let this curse remain,  
(As an inseparate plague) that who but tastes  
A drop thereof, may, with the instant touch,  
Grow dotingly enamoured on themselves.  
Now, HERMES, I have finished.  MER. 
Then thy speech,  
Must here forsake thee, echo, and thy voice  
(As it was wont) rebound but the last words.  
Farewell.  ECC. 
Well.  MER. 
Now, CUPID, I am for you, and your mirth,  
To make me light before I leave the earth.   

Act I. Scene III.  AMORPHUS, echo, mercury. 
Dear spark of beauty, make not so fast away.  ECC. 
Away.  MER. 
Stay, let me observe this portent yet.  AMO. 
I am neither your Minotaur, nor your Centaur, nor your Satire, nor your Hyaena, nor your baboon, but your mere travailer, believe me.  ECC. 
Leave me.  MER. 
I guessed it should be some travailing motion pursued echo so.  AMO. 
Know you from whom you fly? or whence?  ECC. 
Hence.  AMO. 
This is somewhat above strange! a Nymph of her feature, and lineament, to be so preposterously rude! well, I will but cool myself at yon spring, and follow her.  MER. 
Nay, than I am familiar with the issue: I'll leave you too.  AMO. 
I am a Rhinoceros, if I had thought a creature of her symmetry, could have dared so improportionable, and abrupt a digression. Liberal, and divine fount, suffer my profane hand to take of thy bounties. By the purity of my taste, here is most ambrosiac water; I will sup of it again. By thy favour, sweet fount. See, the water (a more running, subtle, and humorous Nymph than she) permits me to touch, and handle her. What should I infer? If my behaviours had been of a cheap or customary garb; my accent, or phrase vulgar; my garments trite; my countenance illiterate; or unpractised in the encounter of a beautiful and brave-attired piece; then I might (with some change of colour) have suspected my faculties: but (knowing myself an offence so sublimated, and refined by travel; of so studied, and well exercised a gesture; so alone in fashion; able to tender the face of any statesman living; and to speak the mere extraction of language; one that hath now made the sixth return upon venture; and was your first that ever enriched his country with the true laws of the duello; whose optics have drunk the spirit of beauty, in some eight score and eighteen princes' courts, where I have resided, and been there fortunate in the amours of three hundred forty and five ladies (all nobly, if not princely descended) whose names I have in catalogue; to conclude, in all so happy, as even admiration herself doth seem to fasten her kisses upon me: Certes, I do neither see, nor feel, nor taste, nor savour the least steam, or fume of a reason, that should invite this foolish fastidious Nymph, so peevishly to abandon me. Well, let the memory of her fleet into air; my thoughts and I am for this other element, water.   

Act I. Scene IIII.  CRITES, ASOTUS, AMORPHUS. 
WHat! the well-dieted AMORPHUS become a water-drinker? I see he means not to write verses then.  ASO. 
No, CRITES? why?  CRI. 
Because— Nec placere diu, nec vivere carmina possunt, quae scribuntur aquae potoribus.  AMO. 
What say you to your HELICON?  CRI. 
O, the MUSES well! that's ever excepted.  AMO. 
Sir, your MUSES have no such water, I assure you; your nectar, or the juice of your nepenthe is nothing to it; 'tis above your metheglin, believe it.  ASO. 
Metheglin! what's that, sir? may I be so audacious to demand?  AMO. 
A kind of greek wine I have met with, sir, in my travails: it is the same that DEMOSTHENES usually drunk, in the composure of all his exquisite, and mellifluous orations.  CRI. 
That's to be argued (AMORPHUS) if we may credit lucian, who in his Eucomio Demosthenes' affirms, he never drunk but water in any of his compositions.  AMO. 
LUCIAN is absurd, he knew nothing: I will believe mine own travails, before all the Lucian's of Europe. He doth feed you with fittens, figments, and leasings.  CRI. 
Indeed (I think) next a travailer, he does prettily well.  AMO. 
I assure you it was wine, I have tasted it, and from the hand of an Italian Antiquary, who derives it authentically from the Duke of Ferrara's bottles. How name you the gentleman you are in rank with there, sir?  CRI. 
'tis ASOTUS, son to the late deceased PHILARGYRUS the citizen.  AMO. 
Was his father of any eminent place, or means?  CRI. 
He was to have been Praetor next year.  AMO. 
Ha! A pretty formal young gallant, in good sooth: pity, he is not more gentilely propagated. Hark you, CRITES, you may say to him, what I am, if you please: though I affect not popularity, yet I would be loath to stand out to any, whom you shall vouchsafe to call friend.  CRI. 
Sir, I fear I may do wrong to your sufficiencies in the reporting them, by forgetting or misplacing some one; yourself can best inform him of yourself, sir: except you had some catalogue, or list of your faculties ready drawn, which you would request me to show him, for you, and him to take notice of.  AMO. 
This CRITES is sour: I will think, sir.  CRI. 
Do so, sir. O heaven! that any thing (in the likeness of man) should suffer these racked extremities, for the uttering of his sophisticate good parts.  ASO. 
CRITES, I have a suit to you; but you must not deny me: pray you make this gentleman and I friends.  CRI. 
Friends! Why? is there any difference between you?  ASO. 
No, I mean acquaintance, to know one another.  CRI. 
O, now I apprehend you; your phrase was without me, before.  ASO. 
In good faith, he's a most excellent rare man, I warrant him!  CRI. 
'slight, they are mutually enamoured by this time!  ASO. 
Will you, sweet CRITES?  CRI. 
Yes, yes.  ASO. 
Nay, but when? you'll defer it now, and forget it.  CRI. 
Why, is't a thing of such present necessity, that it requires so violent a dispatch?  ASO. 
No, but (would I might never stir) he's a most ravishing man! good CRITES, you shall endear me to you, in good faith-law.  CRI. 
Well, your longing shall be satisfied, sir.  ASO. 
And withal, you may tell him what my father was, and how well he left me, and that I am his heir.  CRI. 
Leave it to me, I'll forget none of your dear graces, I warrant you.  ASO. 
Nay, I know you can better marshal these affairs then I can— O gods! I'd give all the world (if I had it) for abundance of such acquaintance.  CRI. 
What ridiculous circumstance might I devise now, to bestow this reciprocal brace of butterflies one upon another?  AMO. 
Since I trod on this side the Alpes, I was not so frozen in my invention. Let me see: to accost him with some choice remnant of spanish, or italian? that would indifferently express my languages now: marry then, if he should fall out to be ignorant, it were both hard, and harsh. How else? step into some ragioni del stato, and so make my induction? that were above him too; and out of his element, I fear. Feign to have seen him in Venice, or Padua? or some face near his in similitude? 'tis too pointed, and open. No, it must be a more quaint, and collateral device. As— stay: to frame some encomiastic speech upon this our Metropolis, or the wise magistrates thereof, in which politic number, 'tis odds, but his father filled up a room? descend into a particular admiration of their justice; for the due measuring of coals, burning of cans, and such like? As also their religion, in pulling down a superstitious cross, and advancing a VENUS, or PRIAPUS, in place of it? ha? 'twill do well. Or to talk of some hospital, whose walls record his father a Benefactor? or of so many buckets bestowed on his parish church, in his life time, with his name at length (for want of arms) tricked upon them? Any of these? Or to praise the cleanness of the street, wherein he dwelled? or the provident painting of his posts against he should have been Praetor? or (leaving his parent) come to some special ornament about himself, as his rapier, or some other of his accoutrements? I have it: Thanks, gracious MINERVA.  ASO. 
Would I had but once spoke to him, and then— He comes to me.  AMO. 
'Tis a most curious, and neatly-wrought band, this same, as I have scene, sir.  ASO. 
O god, sir.  AMO. 
You forgive the humour of mine eye, in observing it.  CRI. 
His eye waters after it, it seems.  ASO. 
O lord, sir, there needs no such apology, I assure you.  CRI. 
I am anticipated: they'll make a solemn deed of gift of themselves, you shall see.  AMO. 
Your ribbon too does most gracefully, in troth.  ASO. 
'tis the most gentile, and received wear now, sir.  AMO. 
Believe me, sir (I speak it not to humour you) I have not seen a young gentleman (generally) put on his clothes, with more judgement.  ASO. 
O, 'tis your pleasure to say so, sir.  AMO. 
No, as I am virtuous (being altogether un-traveled) it strikes me into wonder.  ASO. 
I do purpose to travail, sir, at spring.  AMO. 
I think I shall affect you, sir. This last speech of yours hath begun to make you dear to me.  ASO. 
O god, sir. I would there were anything in me, sir, that might appear worthy the least worthiness of your worth, sir. I protest, sir, I should endeavour to show it, sir, with more than common regard, sir.  CRI. 
O, here's rare motley, sir.  AMO. 
Both your desert, and your endeavours are plentiful, suspect them not: but your sweet disposition to travail (I assure you) hath made you another myself in mine eye, and struck me enamoured on your beauties.  ASO. 
I would I were the fairest lady of France for your sake, sir, and yet I would travail too.  AMO. 
O, you should digress from yourself else: for (believe it) your travail is your only thing that rectifies, or (as the Italian says) vi rendi pronto all' attioni, makes you fit for action.  ASO. 
I think it be great charge though, sir.  AMOR. 
Charge? why 'tis nothing for a gentleman that goes private, as yourself, or so; my intelligence shall quit my charge at all times. Good faith, this hat hath possessed mine eye exceedingly; 'tis so pretty, and fantastic: what? be't a beaver?  ASOT. 
ay, sir, I'll assure you 'tis a beaver, it cost me eight crowns but this morning.  AMOR. 
After your French account?  ASOT. 
Yes, sir.  CRIT. 
And so near his head? beshrew me, dangerous.  AMOR. 
A very pretty fashion (believe me) and a most novel kind of trim: your band is conceited too!  ASOT. 
Sir, it is all at your service.  AMOR. 
O, pardon me.  ASOT. 
I beseech you, sir, if you please to wear it, you shall do me a most infinite grace.  CRIT. 
'slight, will he be praised out of his clothes?  ASOT. 
By heaven, sir, I do not offer it you after the Italian manner; I would you should conceive so of me.  AMOR. 
Sir, I shall fear to appear rude in denying your courtesies, especially, being invited by so proper a distinction: may I pray your name, sir?  ASOT. 
My name is ASOTUS, sir.  AMOR. 
I take your love (gentle ASOTUS) but let me win you to receive this, in exchange—  CRIT. 
'heart, they'll change doublets anon.  AMOR. 
And (from this time) esteem yourself, in the first rank, of those few, whom I profess to love. What make you in company of this scholar, here? I will bring you known to gallants, as ANAIDES of the ordinary, HEDON the courtier, and others, whose society shall render you graced, and respected: this is a trivial fellow, too mean, too cheap, too course for you to converse with.  ASOT. 
'Slid, this is not worth a crown, and mine cost me eight but this morning.  CRIT. 
I looked when he would repent him, he has begun to be sad a good while.  AMOR. 
Sir, shall I say to you for that hat? be not so sad, be not so sad: it is are lique I could not so easily have departed with, but as the hieroglyphic of my affection; you shall alter it to what form you please, it will take any block; I have received it varied (on record) to the three thousandth time, and not so sew: It hath these virtues beside; your head shall not ache under it; nor your brain leave you, without licence; It will preserve your complexion to eternity; for no beam of the sun (should your wear it under Zona torrida) hath power to approach it by two else. It is proof against thunder, and enchantment: and was given me by a great man (in Russia) as an especial-prized present; and constantly affirmed to be the hat, that accompanied the politic Ulysses, in his tedious, and ten years travels.  ASOT. 
By JOVE, I will not depart withal, whosoever would give me a million.   

Act I. Scene V.  COS, CRITICUS, AMORPHUS, ASOTUS, PROSAITES. 
Save you, sweet bloods: does any of you want a creature, or a dependent?  CRIT. 
Beshrew me, a fine blunt slave!  AMOR. 
A page of good timber? it will now be my grace to entertain him first, though I cashier him again in private: how art thou called?  COS. 
COS, sir, COS.  CRIT. 
Cos? How happily hath fortune furnished him with a whetstone?  AMOR. 
I do entertain you, COS, conceal your quality till we be private; if your parts be worthy of me, I will countenance you; if not, catechize you: gentles, shall we go?  ASOT. 
Stay, sir; I'll but entertain this other fellow, and then— I have a great humour to taste of this water too, but I'll come again alone for that— mark the place. What's your name, youth?  PROS. 
PROSAITES, sir.  ASOT. 
PROSAITES? A very fine name, CRITES? be't not?  CRIT. 
Yes, and a very ancient, sir, the beggar.  ASOT. 
Follow me, good PROSAITES: Let's talk.  CRIT. 
He will rank even with you (ere't be long)  
If you hold on your course. O vanity,  
How are thy painted beauties doted on,  
By light, and empty idiots! how pursued  
With open and extended appetite!  
How they do sweat, and run themselves from breath,  
Raised on their toes, to catch thy airy forms,  
Still turning giddy, till they reel like drunkards,  
That buy the merry madness of one hour,  
With the long irksomeness of following time!  
O how despised and base a thing is a man,  
If he not strive t'erect his groveling thoughts  
Above the strain of flesh! But how more cheap  
When, even his best and understanding part,  
(The crown, and strength of all his faculties)  
Floats like a dead drowned body, on the stream  
Of vulgar humour, mixed with commonest dregs?  
I suffer for their guilt now, and my soul  
(Like one that looks on ill-affected eyes)  
Is hurt with mere intention on their follies:  
Why will I view them then? my sense might ask me:  
Or be't a rarity, or some new object,  
That strains my strict observance to this point?  
O would it were, therein I could afford  
My spirit should draw a little near to theirs,  
To gaze on novelties: so vice were one.  
Tut, she is stale, rank, foul, and were it not  
That those (that woo her) greet her with locked eyes,  
(In spite of all the impostures, paintings, drugs,  
Which her bawd custom daubs her cheeks withal)  
She would betray her loathed and leprous face,  
And fright th'enamoured dotards from themselves:  
But such is the perverseness of our nature,  
That if we once but fancy levity,  
(How antic and ridiculous soe'er  
It suit with us) yet will our muffled thought  
Choose rather not to see it, then avoid it:  
And if we can but banish our own sense,  
We act our mimic tricks with that free licence,  
That lust, that pleasure, that security,  
As if we practised in a pasteboard case,  
And no one saw the motion, but the motion.  
Well, check thy passion, lest it grow too loud:  
" While fools are pitied, they wax fat, and proud.    


Act II. Scene I.  CUPID, MERCURY. 
WHy, this was most unexpectedly followed (by divine delicate MERCURY) by the beard of JOVE, thou art a precious deity.  MER. 
Nay, CUPID, leave to speak improperly, since we are turned cracks, let's study to be like cracks; practise their language, and behaviours, and not with a dead imitation: act freely, carelessly, and capriciously, as if our veins ran with quicksilver, and not utter a phrase, but what shall come forth steeped in the very brine of conceit, and sparkle like salt in fire.  CVP. 
That's not every one's happiness (HERMES) though you can presume upon the easiness and dexterity of your wit, you shall give me leave to be a little jealous of mine; and not desperately to hazard it after your capering humour.  MER. 
Nay, then, CUPID, I think we must have you hoodwinked again, for you are grown too provident, since your eyes were at liberty.  CVP. 
Not so (MERCURY) I am still blind CUPID to thee.  MER. 
And what to the lady Nymph you serve?  CVP. 
Troth, page, boy, and sirrah: these are all my titles.  MER. 
Then thou hast not altered thy name, with thy disguise?  CVP. 
O, no, that had been supererogation, you shall never hear your courtier call but by one of these three.  MER. 
Faith, than both our fortunes are the same.  CVP. 
Why? what parcel of man hast thou lighted on for a master?  MER. 
Such a one (as before I begin to decipher him) I dare not affirm to be any thing less than a courtier. So much he is, during this open time of revels, and would be longer, but that his means are to leave him shortly after. His name is HEDON, a gallant wholly consecrated to his pleasures.—  CVP. 
HEDON? he uses much to my Lady's chamber, I think.  MER. 
How is she called, and then I can show thee?  CVP. 
Madame PHILAUTIA.  MER. 
O I, he affects her very particularly indeed. These are his graces. He doth (besides me) keep a barber, and a monkey: He has a rich wrought waistcoat to entertain his visitants in, with a cap almost suitable. His curtains, and bedding are thought to be his own: his bathing-tub is not suspected. He loves to have a fencer, a pedant, and a musician seen in his lodging a mornings.  CVP. 
And not a poet?  MER. 
Fie no: himself is a rhymer, and that's a thought better than a poet. He is not lightly within to his mercer, no, though he come when he takes physic, which is commonly after his play. He beats a tailor very well, but a stocking-seller admirably: and so consequently any one he owes money too, that dares not resist him. He never makes general invitement, but against the publishing of a new suit, marry then, you shall have more drawn to his lodging, then come to the lanching of some three ships; especially if he be furnished with supplies for the retiring of his old wardrobe from pawn: if not, he does hire a stock of apparel, and some forty, or fifty pound in gold, for that forenoon to show. He's thought a very necessary perfume for the presence, and for that only cause welcome thither: six milliners shops afford you not the like sent. He courts ladies with how many great horse he hath rid that morning, or how oft he hath done the whole, or the half pommado in a seven-night before: and sometime venters so far upon the virtue of his pomander, that he dares tell 'em, how many shirts he has sweat at tennis that week, but wisely conceals so many dozen of balls he is on the score. Here he comes, that is all this.   

Act II. Scene II.  HEDON, MERCURY, ANAIDES, GELAIA, CUPID. 
BOy.  MER. 
Sir.  HED. 
Are any of the ladies in the presence?  MER. 
None yet, sir.  HED. 
Give me some gold, more.  ANA. 
Is that thy boy, HEDON?  HED. 
ay, what think'st thou of him?  ANA. 
S'hart, I'd geld him; I warrant he has the philosopher's stone.  HED. 
Well said, my good melancholy devil: Sirrah, I have devised one or two of the prettiest oaths (this morning in my bed) as ever thou heard'st, to protest withal in the presence.  ANA. 
Pray thee, let's hear 'em.  HED. 
Soft, thou'lt use 'em afore me.  ANA. 
No (damn me then) I have more oaths than I know how to utter, by this air.  HED. 
Faith, one is, by the tip of your ear, sweet lady. Is't not pretty, and gentile?  ANA. 
Yes, for the person 'tis applied to, a lady. It should be light, and—  HED. 
Nay, the other is better, exceeds it much: the invention is farther set too. By the white valley that lies between the Alpine hills of your bosom, I protest— etc.  ANA. 
Well, you travelled for that, HEDON.  MER. 
ay, in a map, where his eyes were but blind guides to his understanding, it seems.  HED. 
And then I have a salutation will nick all, by this caper: hay!  ANA. 
How is that?  HED. 
You know I call madame PHILAUTIA, my Honour; and she calls me her Ambition. Now, (when I meet her in the presence anon) I will come to her, and say, sweet Honour, I have hitherto contented my sense with the lilies of your hand, but now I will taste the roses of your lip; and (withal) kiss her: to which she cannot but blushingly answer, nay, now you are too ambitious. And then do I reply; I cannot be too ambitious of honour, sweet lady. will't not be good? ha? ha?  ANA. 
O, assure your soul.  HED. 
By heaven, I think 'twill be excellent, and a very politic achievement of a kiss.  ANA. 
I have thought upon one for MORIA, of a sudden too, if it take.  HED. 
What is't, my dear invention?  ANA. 
marry, I will come to her, (and she always wears a muff, if you be remembered) and I will tell her, Madame, your whole self cannot but be perfectly wise: for your hands have wit enough to keep themselves warm.  HED. 
Now, (before JOVE) admirable! look, thy page takes it too, by Phaebus, my sweet facetious rascal, I could eat water-gruel with thee a month, for this jest, my dear rogue.  ANA. 
O, (by HERCULES) 'tis your only dish, above all your potatoes, or oyster-pies in the world.  HED. 
I have ruminated upon a most rare wish too, and the prophecy to it, but I'll have some friend to be the prophet; as thus: I do wish myself one of my mistress Cioppini. Another demands, Why would he be one of his Mistress Cioppini? A third answers, Because he would make her higher. A fourth shall say, That will make her proud. And a fifth shall conclude: Then do I prophecy, pride will have a fall, and he shall give it her.  ANA. 
I'll be your prophet. By gods so, it will be most exquisite, thou art a fine inventious Rogue, sirrah.  HED. 
Nay, and I have poesies for rings too, and riddles that they dream not of.  ANA. 
Tut, they'll do that, when they come to sleep on them time enough; but were thy devices never in the presence yet, HEDON?  HED. 
O, no, I disdain that.  ANA. 
'twere good we went afore then, and brought them acquainted with the room where they shall act, lest the stratagems of it put them out of countenance, when they should come forth.  CVR. 
Is that a courtier too?  MER. 
Troth no; he has two essential parts of the courtier, pride, and ignorance; marry, the rest come somewhat after the ordinary gallant. 'tis impudence itself, ANAIDES; one, that speaks all that comes in his checks, and will blush no more than a sackbut. He lightly occupies the jesters room at the table, and keeps laughter GELAIA (a wench in page's attire) following him in place of a squire, whom he now and then tickles with some strange ridiculous stuff, uttered (as his land came to him) by chance. He will censure or discourse of any thing, but as absurdly as you would wish. His fashion is not to take knowledge of him that is beneath him in clothes. He never drinks below the salt. He does naturally admire his wit, that wears goldlace, or tissue. Stabs any man that speaks more contemptibly of the scholar than he. He is a great proficient in all the illiberal sciences, as cheating, drinking, swaggering, whoring, and such like: never kneels but to pledge healths; nor prays but for a pipe of pudding tobacco. He will blaspheme in his shirt. The oaths which he vomits at one supper, would maintain a town of garrison in good swearing a twelvemonth. One other genuine quality he has, which crowns all these, and that is this: to a friend in want, he will not depart with the weight of a soldered groat, lest the world might censure him prodigal, or report him a gull: marry, to his cockatrice or punquetto, half a dozen taffeta gowns, or satin kirtles, in a pair or two of months, why they are nothing.  CVR. 
I commend him, he is one of my clients.   

Act II. Scene III.  AMORPHUS, ASOTUS, COS, PROSAITES, CUPID, mercury. 
COme, sir. You are now within in regard of the presence, and see, the privacy of this room, how sweetly it offers itself to our retired intendments. Page, cast a vigilant, and inquiring eye about, that we be not rudely surprised, by the approach of some ruder stranger.  COS. 
I warrant you, sir. I'll tell your when the wolf enters, fear nothing.  MER. 
O, what a mass of benefit shall we possess, in being the invisible spectators of this strange show, now to be acted?  AMO. 
Plant yourself there, sir: and observe me. You shall now, as well be the ocular, as the earwitness, how clearly I can refel that paradox, or rather pseudodox, of those, which hold the face to be the index of the mind, which (I assure you) is not so, in any politic creature: for instance. I will now give you the particular, and distinct face of every your most noted species of persons, as your merchant, your scholar, your soldier, your lawyer, courtier, etc. and each of these so truly, as you would swear, but that your eye shall see the variation of the lineament, it were my most proper, and genuine aspect. First, for your merchant, or city-face, 'tis thus, a dull, plodding face, still looking in a direct line, forward: there is no great matter in this face. Then have you your students, or academic face, which is here, an honest, simple, and methodical face: but somewhat more spread than the former. The third is your soldiers face, a menacing, and astounding face, that looks broad, and big: the grace of this face consisteth much in a beard. The anti-face to this, is your lawyer's face, a contracted, subtle, and intricate face, full of quirks, and turnings, a labyrinthaean face, now angularly, now circularly, every way aspected. Next is your statists face, a serious, solemn, and supercilious face, full of formal, and square gravity, the eye (for the most part) deeply and artificially shadowed: there is great judgement required in the making of this face. But now, to come to your face of faces, or courtiers face, 'tis of three sorts, according to our subdivision of a courtier, elementary, practic, and theoric. Your courtier theoric, is he, that hath arrived to his farthest, and doth now know the court, rather by speculation, than practice; and this is his face: a fastidious and oblique face, that looks, as it went with a vice, and were screwed thus. Your courtier practic, is he, that is yet in his path, his course, his way, & hath not touched the puntilio, or point of his hopes; his face is here: a most promising, open, smooth, and overflowing face, that seems as it would run, and power itself into you. Somewhat a northerly face. Your courtier elementary, is one but newly entered, or as it were in the alphabet, or ut-re-mi-fa-sol-la of courtship. Note well this face, for it is this you must practise.  ASO. 
I'll practise 'em all, if you please, sir.  ANO. 
ay, hereafter you may: and it will not be altogether an ungrateful study. For, let your soul be assured of this (in any rank, or profession whatever) the more general, or maior part of opinion goes with the face, and (simply) respects nothing else. Therefore, if that can be made exactly, curiously, exquisitely, thoroughly, it is enough: But (for the present) you shall only apply yourself to this face of the elementary courtier, a light, reveling, and protesting face, now blushing, now smiling, which you may help much with a wanton wagging of your head, thus, (a feather will teach you) or with kissing your finger that hath the ruby, or playing with some string of your band, which is a most quaint kind of melancholy besides: or (if among ladies) laughing loud, and crying up your own wit, though perhaps borrowed, it is not amiss. Where is your page? call for your casting-bottle, and place your mirror in your hat, as I told you: so. Come, look not pale, observe me, set your face, and enter.  MER. 
O, for some excellent painter, to have ta'en the copy of all these faces!  ASO. 
PROSAITES.  AMO. 
Fie, I premonished you of that: In the court, boy, lackey, or sirrah.  COS. 
Master, Lupus in— O, 'tis PROSAITES.  ASO. 
Sirrah prepare my casting-bottle, I think I must be enforced to purchase me another page, you see how at hand COS waits, here.  MER. 
So will he too, in time.  CVP. 
What's he, mercury?  MER. 
A notable smelled. One, that hath newly entertained the beggar to follow him, but cannot get him to wait near enough. 'tis ASOTUS, the heir of PHILARGYRUS; but first I'll give ye the others character, which may make his the clearer. He that is with him, is AMORPHUS, a travailer, one so made out of the mixture and shreds of forms, that himself is truly deformed. He walks most commonly with a clove, or picktooth in his mouth, he is the very mint of complement, all his behaviours are printed, his face is another volume of essays; and his beard an Aristarchus. He speaks all cream, skimmed, and more affected than a dozen of waiting women. He is his own promoter in every place. The wife of the ordinary gives him his diet, to maintain her table in discourse, which (indeed) is a mere tyranny over her other guests, for he will usurp all the talk: ten constables are not so tedious. He is no great shifter, once a year his apparel is ready to revolt. He doth use much to arbitrate quarrels, and fights himself, exceeding well (out at a window.) He will lie cheaper than any beggar, and louder than most clocks: for which he is right properly accommodated to the whetstone, his page. The other gallant is his zany, and doth most of these tricks after him; sweats to imitate him in every thing (to a hair) except a beard, which is not yet extant. He doth learn to make strange sauces, to eat anchovies, maccaroni, bovoli, fagioli, and caviar, because he loves 'em; speaks as he speaks, looks, walks, goes so in clothes, and fashion: is in all, as if he were moulded of him. marry (before they met) he had other very pretty sufficiencies, which yet he retains some light impression of: as frequenting a dancing school, and grievously torturing strangers, with inquisition after his grace in his galliard. He buys a fresh acquaintance at any rate. His eye and his raiment confer much together as he goes in the street. He treads nicely, like the fellow that walks upon ropes; especially the first sunday of his silk-stockings: and when he is most neat, and new, you shall strip him with commendations.  CVP. 
Here comes another.  MER. 
ay, but one of another strain, CUPID: This fellow weighs somewhat. Crites passeth by.  CVP. 
His name, HERMES?  MER. 
CRITES. A creature of a most perfect and divine temper. One, in whom the humours and elements are peaceably met, without emulation of precedency: he is neither to phantasticly melancholy, too slowly phlegmatic, too lightly sanguine, or too rashly choleric, but in all, so composed & ordered, as it is clear, Nature went about some full work, she did more than make a man, when she made him. His discourse is like his behaviour, uncommon, but not unpleasing; he is prodigal of neither. He strives rather to be that which men call judicious, then to be thought so: and is so truly learned, that he affects not to show it. He will think, and speak his thought, both freely: but as distant from depraving another man's merit, as proclaiming his own. For his valour, 'tis such, that he dares as little to offer an injury, as receive one. In sum, he hath a most ingenuous and sweet spirit, a sharp and seasoned wit, a straight judgement, and a strong mind. Fortune could never break him, nor make him less. He counts it his pleasure, to despise pleasures, and is more delighted with good deeds, than goods. It is a competency to him that he can be virtuous. He doth neither covet nor fear; he hath too much reason to do either: and that commends all things to him.  CVP. 
Not better than MERCURY commends him.  MER. 
O, CUPID, 'tis beyond my deity to give him his due praises: I could leave my place in heaven, to live among mortals, so I were sure to be no other than he.  CVP. 
'Slight, I believe he is your minion, you seem to be so ravished with him.  MER. 
He's one, I would not have a wry thought darted against, willingly.  CVP. 
No, but a straight shaft in his bosom, I'll promise him, if I am Citherea's son.  MER. 
Shall we go, CUPID?  CVP. 
Stay, and see the ladies now: they'll come presently. I'll help to paint them.  MER. 
What! lay colour upon colour? that affords but an ill blazon.  CVP. 
Argurion passeth by. Here comes metal to help it, the lady ARGURION.  MER. 
Money, money.  CVP. 
The same. A Nymph of a most wandering and giddy disposition, humorous as the air, she'll run from gallant to gallant (as they sit at primero in the presence) most strangely, and seldom stays with any. she spreads as she goes. Today you shall have her look as clear and fresh as the morning, and tomorrow as melancholic as midnight. she takes special pleasure in a close obscure lodging, and, for that cause, visits the city so often, where she has many secret true-concealing favourites. When she comes abroad, she's more loose and scattering then dust, and will fly from place to place, as she were rapt with a whirlwind. Your young student (for the most part) she affects not, only salutes him, and away: a poet, nor a philosopher, she is hardly brought to take any notice of; no, though he be some part of an alchemist. she loves a player well, and a lawyer infinitely: but your fool above all. She can do much in court for the obtaining of any suit whatsoever, no door but flies open to her, her presence is above a charm. The worst in her is want of keeping state, and too much descending into inferior and base offices, she's for any course employment you will put upon her, as to be your procurer, or pandar.  MER. 
Peace, CUPID, here comes more work for you, another character or two.   

Act II. Scene IIII.  PHANTASTE, MORIA, PHILAUTIA, mercury, CUPID. 
STay, sweet PHILAUTIA, I'll but change my fan, and go presently.  MOR. 
Now (in very good serious) ladies, I will have this order reversed, the presence must be better maintained from you: a quarter past eleven, and ne'er a Nymph in prospective? beshrew my hand, there must be a reformed discipline. Is that your new ruff, sweet ladybird? By my truth, 'tis most intricately rare.  MER. 
Good JOVE, what reverend gentlewoman in years might this be?  CVP. 
This, Madam MORIA, guardian of the Nymphs. One that is not now to be persuaded of her wit, she will think herself wise against all the judgements that come. A lady made all of voice, and air, talks any thing of any thing. she is like one of your ignorant Poetasters of the time, who when they have got acquainted with a strange word, never rest till they have wrong it in, though it loosen the whole fabric of their sense.  MER. 
That was pretty and sharply noted, CUPID.  CVP. 
She will tell you, Philosophy was a fine reveller, when she was young, and a gallant, and that then (though she say it) she was thought to be the Dame-DIDO, and HELLEN of the court: As also, what a sweet dog she had this time four years, and how it was called Fortune, and that (if the fates had not cut his thread) he had been a dog to have given entertainment to any gallant in this kingdom: and, unless she had whelped it herself, she could not have loved a thing better in'is world.  MER. 
O, I pray thee no more, I am full of her.  CVP. 
Yes (I must needs tell you) she composes a sack-posset well; and would court a young page sweetly, but that her breath is against it.  MER. 
Now, her breath (or something more strong) protect me from her: th'other, th'other, CUPID.  CVP. 
O, that's my lady and mistress, Madam PHILAUTIA. she admires not herself for any one particularity, but for all: she is fair, and she knows it: she has a pretty light wit too, and she knows it: she can dance, and she knows that too: play at shuttlecock, and that too: no quality she has, but she shall take a very particular knowledge of, and most ladylike commend it to you. You shall have her at any time read you the history of herself, and very subtly run over another lady's sufficiencies, to come to her own. She has a good superficial judgement in painting; and would seem to have so in poetry. A most complete lady in the opinion of some three, beside herself.  PHI. 
Faith, how liked you my quip to HEDON, about the garter? was't not witty?  MOR. 
Exceeding witty and integrate: you did so aggravate the jest withal.  PHI. 
And did I not dance movingly the last night?  MOR. 
Movingly? out of measure (in troth) sweet charge.  MER. 
A happy commendation, to dance out of measure.  MOR. 
Save only you wanted the swim i' the turn: O! when I was at fourteen—  PHI. 
Nay, that's mine own from any Nymph in the court (I am sure on't) therefore you mistake me in that, Guardian: both the swim and the trip, are properly mine, everybody will affirm it, that has any judgement in dancing: I assure you.  PHA. 
Come now, PHILAUTIA, I am for you, shall we go?  PHI. 
ay, good PHANTASTE: What! have you changed your head-tire?  PHA. 
Yes faith, th'other was so near the common: it had no extraordinary grace; besides, I had worn it almost a day, in good troth.  PHI. 
I'll be sworn, this is most excellent for the device, and rare. 'Tis after the italian print, we looked on tother night.  PHA. 
'Tis so: By this fan, I cannot abide any thing that savours the poor overworn cut, that has any kindred with it; I must have variety, I: this mixing in fashion I hate it worse, than to burn juniper in my chamber, I protest.  PHI. 
And yet we cannot have a new peculiar court-tire, but these retainers will have it; these Suburb-sunday-waiters; these courtiers for high days; I know not what I should call 'em—  PHA. 
O, ay, they do most pitifully imitate, but I have a tire a coming (i'faith) shall—  MOR. 
In good certain, Madam, it makes you look most heavenly; but (lay your hand on your heart) you never skinned a new beauty more prosperously in your life, nor more metaphysically: look, good lady, sweet lady, look.  PHI. 
'tis very clear, and well, believe me. But if you had seen mine yesterday, when 'twas young, you would have— who's your Doctor, PHANTASTE?  PHA. 
Nay, that's counsel, PHILAUTIA, you shall pardon me: yet (I'll assure you) he's the most dainty, sweet, absolute rare man of the whole college. O! his very looks, his discourse, his behaviour, all he does is physic, I protest.  PHI. 
For heavens sake, his name; good, dear PHANTASTE—  PHA. 
No, no, no, no, no, no, (believe me) not for a million of heavens: I will not make him cheap. Fie—  CVP. 
There is a Nymph too, of a most curious and elaborate strain, light, all motion, an ubiquitary, she is everywhere, PHANTASTE—  MER. 
Her very name speaks her, let her pass. But are these (CUPID) the stars of Cynthia's court? do these Nymphs attend upon DIANA?  CVP. 
They are in her court (mercury) but not as stars, these never come in the presence of CYNTHIA. The Nymphs that make her train, are the divine ARETE, TIME, PHRONESIS, THAUMA, and others of that high sort. These are privately brought in by MORIA in this licentious time, against her knowledge: and (like so many meteors) will vanish, when she appears.   

Act II. Scene V.  PROSAITES, GELAIA, COS, mercury, CUPID. SONG. 
COme follow me, my wags, and say as I say.  
There's no riches but in rags; heigh day, heigh day.  
You that profess this art, come away, come away,  
And help to bear a part. hay day; heigh day, etc.  MER. 
What! those that were our fellow pages but now, so soon preferred to be yeomen of the bottles? the mystery, the mystery, good wags?  CVP. 
Some diet-drink, they have the guard of.  PRO. 
No, sir, we are going in quest of a strange fountain, lately found out.  CVP. 
By whom?  COS. 
My master, or the great discoverer, AMORPHUS.  MER. 
Thou hast well entitled him, COS, for he will discover all he knows.  GEL. 
ay, and a little more too, when the spirit is upon him.  PRO. 
O, the good travailing gentleman yonder has caused such a drought i' the presence, with reporting the wonders of this new water, that all the ladies, and gallants, lie languishing upon the rushes, like so many pounded cattle i' the midst of harvest, sighing one to another, and gasping, as if each of them expected a cock from the fountain, to be brought into his mouth: and (without we return quickly) they are all (as a youth would say) no better than a few trouts cast ashore, or a dish of eels in a sandbag.  MER. 
Well then, you were best dispatch, and have a care of them. Come, CUPID, thou and I'll go peruse this dry wonder.    


Act III. Scene I.  AMORPHUS, ASOTUS. 
SIt, let not this discountenance, or Disgallant you a whit: you must not sink under the first disaster. It is with your young grammatical courtier, as with your neophyte-player, a thing usual to be daunted at the first presence, or interview: you saw, there was HEDON, and ANAIDES, (far more practised gallants then yourself) who were both out, to comfort you. It is no disgrace, no more, than for your adventurous reveller, to fall by some inauspicious chance in his galliard, or for some subtle politic, to undertake the bastinado, that the state might think worthily of him, and respect him as a man well beaten to the world. What! hath your tailor provided the property (we spoke of) at your chamber, or no?  ASO. 
I think he has.  AMO. 
Nay (I entreat you) be not so flat, and melancholic. Erect your mind: you shall redeem this with the courtship I will teach you against afternoon. Where eat you today?  ASO. 
Where you please, sir, anywhere, I.  AMO. 
Come, let us go and taste some light dinner, a dish of sliced caviar, or so, and after, you shall practise an hour at your lodging, some few forms that I have recalled. If you had but so far gathered your spirits to you, as to have taken up a rush (when you were out) and wagged it thus, or cleansed your teeth with it: or but turned aside, and feigned some business to whisper with your page, till you had recovered yourself, or but found some slight stain in your stocking, or any other pretty invention (so it had been sudden,) you might have come off with a most clear, and courtly grace.  ASO. 
A poison of all, I think I was forespoke, I.  AMO. 
No, I must tell you, you are not audacious enough, you must frequent ordinaries, a month more, to initiate yourself: In which time, it will not be amiss, if (in private) you keep good your acquaintance with CRITES, or some other, of his poor coat; visit his lodging secretly, and often: become an earnest suitor to hear some of his labours.  ASO. 
O JOVE! sir, I could never get him to read a line to me.  AMO. 
You must then wisely mix yourself in rank, with such, as you know can; and, as your ears do meet with a new phrase, or an acute jest, take it in: a quick nimble memory will lift it away, and, at your next public meal, it is your own.  ASO. 
But I shall never utter it perfectly, sir.  AMO. 
No matter, let it come lame. In ordinary talk you shall play it away, as you do your light crowns at primero: It will pass.  ASO. 
I shall attempt, sir.  AMO. 
Do. It is your shifting age for wit, and I assure you, men must be prudent. After this, you may to court, and there fall in, first with the waiting-woman, then with the lady. Put case they do retain you there, as a fit property, to hire coaches some pair of months, or so; or to read them asleep in afternoons upon some pretty pamphlet, to breath you; why, it shall in time embolden you to some farther achievement: In the interim, you may fashion yourself to be careless, and impudent.—  ASO. 
How if they would have me to make verses? I heard Hedon spoke to for some.  AMO. 
Why, you must prove the aptitude of your Genius; if you find none, you must hearken out a vein, and buy: provided you pay for the silence, as for the work. Then you may securely call it your own.  ASO. 
Yes, and I'll give out my acquaintance with all the best writers, to countenance me the more.  AMO. 
Rather seem not to know 'em, it is your best. I. Be wise, that you never so much as mention the name of one, nor remember it mentioned, but if they be offered to you in discourse, shake your light head, make between a sad and a smiling face, pity some, rail at all, and commend yourself: 't is your only safe, and unsuspected course. Come, you shall look back upon the court again today, and be restored to your colours: I do now partly aim at the cause of your repulse— (which was ominous indeed) for as you enter at the door, there is opposed to you the frame of a wolf in the hangings, which (surprising your eye suddenly) gave a false alarm to the heart; and that was it called your blood out of your face, and so routed the whole rank of your spirits: I beseech you labour to forget it. And remember (as I inculcated to you before, for your comfort) HEDON, and ANAIDES.   

Act III. Scene II.  HEDON, ANAIDES. 
heart, was there ever so prosperous an invention thus unluckily perverted, and spoiled by a whoreson bookworm, a candle-waster?  ANA. 
Nay, be not impatient, HEDON.  HED. 
'Slight, I would feign know his name.  ANA. 
Hang him, poor grogram-rascal, pray thee think not of him: I'll send for him to my lodging, and have him blanketed when thou wilt, man.  HED. 
By gods so; I would thou couldst. Look, here he comes. Laugh at him, Crites passeth by. laugh at him, ha, ha, ha.  ANA. 
Fough, he smells all lamp-oil, with studying by candlelight.  HED. 
How confidently he went by us, and carelessly! never moved! nor stirred at any thing! did you observe him?  ANA. 
ay, a pox on him, let him go, dormouse: he is in a dream now. He has no other time to sleep, but thus, when he walks abroad, to take the air.  HED. 
God's precious, this afflicts me more than all the rest, that we should so particularly direct our hate, and contempt against him, and he to carry it thus without wound, or passion! 'tis insufferable.  ANA. 
'Slid, (my dear envy) if thou but sayst the word now, I'll undo him eternally for thee.  HED. 
How, sweet ANAIDES?  ANA. 
marry half a score of us get him in (one night) and make him pawn his wit for a supper.  HED. 
Away, thou hast such unseasonable jests. By this heaven, I wonder at nothing more than our gentlemen-ushers, that will suffer a piece of serge, or perpetuana, to come into the presence: methinks they should (out of their experience) better distinguish the silken disposition of courtiers, than to let such terrible course rags mix with us, able to fret any smooth or gentile society to the threads with their rubbing devices.  ANA. 
Unless 'twere Lent, Ember weeks, or Fasting days, when the place is most penuriously empty of all other good outsides. Damn me, if I should adventure on his company once more, without a suit of buff, to defend my wit; he does nothing but stab the slave: how mischievously he crossed thy device of the prophesy there? And MORIA, she comes without her muff too, and there my invention was lost.  HED. 
Well, I am resolved what I'll do.  ANA. 
What, my good spirituous spark?  HED. 
marry, speak all the venom I can of him; and poison his reputation in every place, where I come.  ANA. 
'Fore god, most courtly.  HED. 
And if I chance to be present where any question is made of his sufficiencies, or of any thing he hath done private, or public, I'll censure it slightly, and ridiculously.—  ANA. 
At any hand beware of that, so thou mayst draw thine own judgement in suspect. No, I'll instruct thee what thou shalt do, and by a safer means: Approve any thing thou hearest of his, to the received opinion of it; but if it be extraordinary, give it from him to some other, whom thou more particularly affectest. That's the way to plague him, and he shall never come to defend himself. 'sblood, I'll give out, all he does is dictated from other men, and swear it too (if thou'lt ha'mee) and that I know the time, and place where he stole it, though my soul be guilty of no such thing; and that I think, out of my heart, he hates such barren shifts: yet to do thee a pleasure, and him a disgrace, I'll damn myself, or do any thing.  HED. 
Gramercies, my dear devil: we'll put it seriously in practice, i'faith.   

Act III. Scene III.  CRITES. 
do, good detraction, do, and I the while  
Shall shake thy spite off with a careless smile.  
Poor piteous gallants! What lean idle sleights  
Their thoughts suggest to flatter their starved hopes?  
As if I knew not how to entertain  
These straw-devices: but, of force, must yield  
To the weak stroke of their calumnious tongues.  
What should I care what every dor doth buzz  
In credulous cares? it is a crown to me,  
That the best judgements can report me wronged;  
Them liars; and their slanders impudent.  
Perhaps (upon the rumour of their speeches)  
Some grieved friend will whisper to me, CRITES,  
Men speak ill of thee; so they be ill men,  
If they spoke worse, 'twere better: for of such  
To be dispraised, is the most perfect praise.  
What can his censure hurt me, whom the world  
Hath censured vile before me? If good CHRESTUS,  
EUTHUS, or PHRONIMUS, had spoke the words,  
They would have moved me, and I should have called  
My thoughts, and actions, to a strict account  
Upon the hearing: But when I remember,  
'Tis HEDON, and ANAIDES: alas, then,  
I think but what they are, and am not stirred.  
The one, a light voluptuous reveller,  
The other a strange arrogating puff,  
Both impudent, and ignorant enough;  
That talk (as they are wont) not as I merit:  
Traduce by custom, as most dogs do bark,  
Do nothing out of judgement, but disease,  
Speak ill, because they never could speak well.  
And who'd be angry with this race of creatures?  
What wise physician have we ever seen  
Moved with a frantic man? the same affects  
That he doth bear to his sick patient,  
Should a right mind carry to such as these:  
And I do count it a most rare revenge,  
That I can thus (with such a sweet neglect)  
Pluck from them all the pleasure of their malice.  
For that's the mark of all their ingenious drifts,  
To wound my patience, howsoe'er they seem  
To aim at other objects: which if missed,  
Their envy's like an arrow, shot upright,  
That, in the fall, endangers their own heads.   

Act III. Scene IIII.  ARETE, CRITES. 
WHat, CRITES! where have you drawn forth the day?  
You have not visited your jealous friends?  CRI. 
Where I have seen (most honoured ARETE,)  
The strangest pageant, fashioned like a court,  
(At least I dreamt I saw it) so diffused,  
So painted, pied, and full of rainbow strains,  
As never yet (either by time, or place)  
Was made the food to my distasted sense:  
Nor can my weak imperfect memory  
Now render half the forms unto my tongue,  
That were convolved within this thrifty room.  
Here, stalks me by a proud, and spangled sir,  
That looks three handfuls higher than his foretop;  
Savours himself alone, is only kind  
And loving to himself: one that will speak  
More dark, and doubtful than six oracles;  
Salutes a friend, as if he had a stitch,  
Is his own chronicle, and scarce can eat  
For registering himself: is waited on  
By mimics, jesters, panders, parasites,  
And other such like prodigies of men.  
He passed, appears some mincing marmoset  
Made all of clothes, and face; his limbs so set  
As if they had some voluntary act  
Without man's motion, and must move just so  
In spite of their creation: one that weighs  
His breath between his teeth, and dares not smile  
Beyond a point, for fear t'unstarch his look;  
Hath travelled to make legs, and seen the cringe  
Of several courts, and courtiers; knows the time  
Of giving titles, and of taking walls;  
Hath read court-common-places; made them his:  
Studied the grammar of state, and all the rules  
Each formal usher in that politic school,  
Can teach a man. A third comes giving nods  
To his repenting creditors, protests  
To weeping suitors, takes the coming gold  
Of insolent, and base ambition,  
That hourly rubs his dry, and itchy palms:  
Which gripped, like burning coals, he hurls away  
Into the laps of bawds, and buffoons mouths.  
With him there meets some subtle PROTEUS, one  
Can change, and vary with all forms he sees;  
Be any thing but honest; serves the time;  
Hovers betwixt two factions, and explores  
The drifts of both; which (with cross face) he bears  
To the divided heads, and is received  
With mutual grace of either: one that dares  
Do deeds worthy the hurdle, or the wheel,  
To be thought somebody; and is (in sooth)  
Such as the Satirist points truly forth,  
That only to his crimes owes all his worth.  ARE. 
You tell us wonders, CRITES.  CRI. 
This is nothing.  
There stands a Neophyte glazing of his face,  
Pruning his clothes, perfuming of his hair,  
Against his idol enters; and repeats  
(Like an unperfect prologue, at third music)  
His part of speeches, and confederate jests,  
In passion to himself. Another swears  
His Scene of courtship over; bids, believe him,  
twenty times, ere they will; anon, doth seem  
As he would kiss away his hand in kindness;  
Then walks of melancholic, and stands wreathed,  
As he were pinned up to the arras, thus.  
A third is most in action, swims, and frisks,  
Plays with his mistress paps, salutes her pumps,  
Adores her hems, her skirts, her knots, her curls,  
Will spend his patrimony for a garter,  
Or the least feather in her bounteous fan.  
A fourth, he only comes in for a mute:  
Divides the act with a dumb show, and exit.  
Then must the ladies laugh, straight comes their Scene,  
A sixth times worse confusion than the rest.  
Where you shall hear one talk of this man's eye;  
Another, of his lip; a third, his nose;  
A fourth commend his leg; a fift his foot;  
A sixth his hand; and every one a limb:  
That you would think the poor distorted gallant  
Must there expire. Then fall they in discourse  
Of tires, and fashions, how they must take place,  
Where they may kiss, and whom, when to sit down,  
And with what grace to rise; if they salute,  
What curtsy they must use: such cobweb stuff,  
As would enforce the commonest sense abhor  
Th' Arachnean workers.  ARE. 
Patience, gentle CRITES.  
This knot of spiders will be soon dissolved,  
And all their webs swept out of Cynthia's court,  
When once her glorious deity appears,  
And but presents itself in her full light:  
Till when, go in, and spend your hours with us  
Your honoured friends, TIME, and PHRONESIS,  
In contemplation of our goddess name.  
Think on some sweet, and choice invention, now,  
Worthy her serious, and illustrious eyes,  
That from the merit of it we may take  
Desired occasion to prefer your worth,  
And make your service known to CYNTHIA.  
It is the pride of ARETE to grace  
Her studious lovers; and (in scorn of time,  
Envy, and ignorance) to lift their state  
Above a vulgar height. True happiness  
Consists not in the multitude of friends,  
But in the worth, and choice. Nor would I have  
Virtue a popular regard pursue:  
Let them be good that love me, though but few.  CRI. 
I kiss thy hands, divinest ARETE,  
And vow myself to thee, and CYNTHIA.   

Act III. Scene V.  AMORPHUS, ASOTUS. 
A Little more forward: So, sir. Now go in, discloak yourself, and come forth. Taylor, bestow thy absence upon us; and be not prodigal of this secret, but to a dear customer. 'Tis well intend, sir. Stay, you come on too fast; your pace is too impetuous. Imagine this to be the palace of your pleasure, or place, where your lady is pleased to be seen. First, you present yourself, thus: and spying her, you fall off, and walk some two turns; in which time, it is to be supposed, your passion hath sufficiently whited your face: then (stifling a sigh or two, and closing your lips) with a trembling boldness, and bold terror, you advance yourself forward. Prove thus much, I pray you.  ASO. 
Yes, sir, (pray JOVE I can light on it) Here, I come in, you say, and present myself?  AMO. 
Good.  ASO. 
And then I spy her, and walk off?  AMO. 
Very good.  ASO. 
Now, sir, I stifle, and advance forward?  AMO. 
Trembling.  ASO. 
Yes, sir, trembling: I shall do it better when I come to it. And what must I speak now?  AMO. 
marry, you shall say: Dear beauty, or, sweet honour (or by what other title you please to remember her) methinks you are melancholy. This is, if she be alone now, and discompanied.  ASO. 
Well, sir, I'll enter again; her title shall be, My dear LINDABRIDES.  AMO. 
LINDABRIDES?  ASO. 
ay, sir, the Emperor ALICANDRO's daughter, and the Prince Meridian's sister (in the Knight of the Sun) she should have been married to him, but that the Princess CLARIDIANA—  AMO. 
O, you betray your reading.  ASO. 
Nay, sir, I have read history, I am a little humanitian. Interrupt me not, good sir. My dear LINDABRIDES, My dear LINDABRIDES, My dear LINDABRIDES, methinks you are melancholy.  AMO. 
ay, and take her by the rosy-fingered hand.  ASO. 
Must I so? O, my dear LINDABRIDES, methinks you are melancholy.  AMO. 
Or thus, sir. All variety of divine pleasures, choice sports, sweet music, rich fare, brave attire, soft beds, and silken thoughts attend this dear beauty.  ASO. 
Believe me, that's pretty. All variety of divine pleasures, choice sports, sweet music, rich fare, brave attires, soft beds, and silken thoughts, attend this dear beauty.  AMO. 
And then, offering to kiss her hand, if she shall coily recoil, and signify your repulse; you are to reinforce yourself, with, More than most fair lady, let not the rigour of your just disdain thus coarsely censure of your servants zeal: and, withal, protest her, to be the only, and absolute unparalleled creature you do adore and admire, and respect, and reverence, in this court, corner of the world, or kingdom.  ASO. 
This is hard, by my faith. I'll begin it all, again.  AMO. 
Do so, and I will act it for your lady.  ASO. 
Will you vouchsafe, sir? All variety of divine pleasures, choice sports, sweet music, rich fare, brave attire, soft beds, and silken thoughts attend this dear beauty.  AMO. 
So, sir, pray you away.  ASO. 
More than most fair lady, let not the rigour of your just disdain, thus courtly censure of your servants zeal, I protest, you are the only, and absolute, apparel—  AMO. 
Unparalleled.  ASO. 
Unparalleled creature, I do adore, and admire, and respect, and reverence, in this court, corner of the world, or kingdom.  AMO. 
This is, if she abide you. But now, put case she should be passant when you enter, as thus: you are to frame your gate thereafter, and call upon her, Lady, Nymph, Sweet refuge, Star of our court. Then if she be guardant, here: you are to come on, and (laterally disposing yourself) swear, by her blushing and well coloured cheek, the bright die of her hair, her morie teeth (though they be ebony) or some such white, and innocent oath, to induce you. If regardant, then maintain your station, brisk, and irpe, show the supple motion of your pliant body, but (in chief) of your knee, and hand, which cannot but arride her proud humour exceedingly.  ASO. 
I conceive you, sir, I shall perform all these things in good time, I doubt not, they do so hit me.  AMO. 
Well, sir, I am your lady; make use of any of these beginnings, or some other out of your own invention: and prove, how you can hold up, and follow it. Say, say.  ASO. 
Yes, sir, my dear LINDABRIDES.—  AMO. 
No, you affect that LINDABRIDES too much. And (let me tell you) it is not so courtly. Your pedant should provide you some parcels of french, or some pretty commodity of italian to commence with, if you would be exotic, and exquisite.  ASO. 
Yes, sir, he was at my lodging tother morning, I gave him a doublet.  AMO. 
Double your benevolence, and give him the hose too, clothe you his body, he will help to apparel your mind. But now, see what your proper GENIUS can perform alone, without adjection of any other MINERVA.  ASO. 
I comprehend you, sir.  AMO. 
I do stand you, sir: fall back to your first place. Good, passing well: Very properly pursued.  ASO. 
Beautiful, ambiguous, and sufficient lady, what! are you all alone?  AMO. 
We would be, sir, if you would leave us.  ASO. 
I am at your beauty's appointment, bright angel; but—  AMO. 
What but?  ASO. 
No harm, more than most fair feature.  AMO. 
That touch relished well.  ASO. 
But, I protest—  AMO. 
And why should you protest?  ASO. 
For good will (dear esteemed Madam) and I hope, your ladyship will so conceive of it: 
And will, in time, return from your disdain,  
And rue the sufferance of our friendly pain.   AMO. 
O, that piece was excellent! if you could pick out more of these play-particles, and (as occasion shall salute you) embroider, or damask your discourse with them, persuade your soul, it would most judiciously commend you. Come, this was a well discharged, and auspicious bout. Prove the second.  ASO. 
Lady, I cannot ruffle it in red and yellow.  AMO. 
Why, if you can revel it in white, sir, 'tis sufficient.  ASO. 
Say you so, sweet lady? Lan, tede, de, de, de, daunt, daunt, daunt, dante, etc. No (in good faith) Madame, whosoever told your ladyship so, abused you; but I would be glad to meet your ladyship in a measure.  AMO. 
Me, sir? belike you measure me by yourself, then?  ASO. 
Would I might, fair feature.  AMO. 
And what were you the better, if you might?  ASO. 
The better it please you to ask, fair lady.  AMO. 
Why, this was ravishing, and most acutely continued. Well, spend not your humour too much, you have now competently exercised your conceit: This (once or twice a day) will render you an accomplished, elaborate, and well leveled gallant. Convey in your courting-stock, we will (in the heat of this) go visit the nymph's chamber.    


Act IV. Scene I.  PHANTASTE, PHILAUTIA, ARGURION, MORIA, CUPID. 
I Would this water would arrive once, our travailing friend so commended to us.  ARG. 
So would I, for he has left all us in travail with expectation of it.  PHA. 
Pray JOVE, I never rise from this couch, if ever I thirsted more for a thing, in my whole time of being a courtier.  PHI. 
Nor I, I'll be sworn: The very mention of it sets my lips in a worse heat, than if he had sprinkled them with MERCURY. Reach me the glass, sirrah.  CVP. 
Here, lady.  MOR. 
They do not peel, sweet Charge, do they?  PHI. 
Yes, a little, Guardian.  MOR. 
O, 'tis an eminent good sign. Ever when my lips do so, I am sure to have some delicious good drink, or other approaching.  ARG. 
marry, and this may be good for us ladies: for (it seems) 'tis far-fet by their stay.  MOR. 
My palate for yours (dear Honour) it shall prove most elegant, I warrant you: O, I do fancy this gear that's long a coming, with an unmeasurable strain.  PHA. 
Pray thee sit down, PHILAUTIA, that rebato becomes thee singularly.  PHI. 
Is't not quaint?  PHA. 
Yes faith. methinks, thy servant HEDON is nothing so obsequious to thee, as he was wont to be; I know not how, he's grown out of his garb a late, he's warped.  MOR. 
In trueness, and so methinks too; he's much converted.  PHI. 
Tut, let him be what he will, 'tis an animal I dream not of. This tire (methinks) makes me look very ingeniously, quick, and spirited, I should be some LAURA, or some DELIA, methinks.  MOR. 
As I am wise (fair Honours) that title she gave him, to be her Ambition, spoiled him: Before, he was the most propitious and observant young novice—  PHA. 
No, no, you are the whole heaven awry, Guardian: 'tis the swaggering coach-horse ANAIDES, draws with him there, has been the diverter of him.  PHI. 
For Cupid's sake, speak no more of him; would I might never dare to look in a mirror again, if I respect ere a marmoset of them all, otherwise, than I would a feather, or my shuttlecock, to make sport with, now and then.  PHA. 
Come, sit down; troth (and you be good Beauties) let's run over 'em all now: Which is the proper'st man amongst them? I say, the travailer, AMORPHUS.  PHI. 
O, fie on him, he looks like a venetian trumpeter, i' the battle of Lepanto, in the gallery yonder; and speaks to the tune of a country lady, that comes ever i' the rearward, or train of a fashion.  MOR. 
I should have judgement in a feature, sweet Beauties.  PHA. 
A body would think so, at these years.  MOR. 
And I prefer another now, far before him, a million at least.  PHA. 
Who might that be, Guardian?  MOR. 
marry (fair Charge) ANAIDES.  PHA. 
ANAIDES! you talked of a tune PHILAUTIA, there's one speaks in a key: like the opening of some justices gate, or a post-boy's horn, as if his voice feared an arrest for some ill words it should give, and were loath to come forth.  PHI. 
ay, and he has a very imperfect face.  PHA. 
Like a sea-monster, that were to ravish ANDROMEDA from the rock.  PHI. 
His hand's too great too, by at least a straws breadth  PHA. 
Nay, he has a worse fault than that, too.  PHI. 
A long heel?  PHA. 
That were a fault in a lady, rather than him: No, they say, he puts off the calves of his legs, with his stockings, every night.  PHI. 
Out upon him: turn to another of the pictures, for loves sake. What says ARGURION? whom does she commend, afore the rest?  CVP. 
I hope, I have instructed her sufficiently for an answer.  MOR. 
Troth, I made the motion to her ladyship for one today, i' the presence, but it appeared she was otherways furnished before: She would none.  PHA. 
Who was that, ARGURION?  MOR. 
marry, the poor plain gentleman, i' the black, there.  PHA. 
Who, CRITES?  ARG. 
ay, ay, he. A fellow, that nobody so much as looked upon, or regarded, and she would have had me done him particular grace.  PHA. 
That was a true trick of yourself, MORIA, to persuade ARGURION, to affect the scholar.  ARG. 
Tut, but she shall be no chooser for me. In good faith, I like the citizen's son there, ASOTUS, methinks, none of them all come near him.  PHA. 
Not, HEDON?  ARG. 
HEDON, in troth no. HEDON'S a pretty slight courtier, and he wears his clothes well, and sometimes in fashion; Marry, his face is but indifferent, and he has no such excellent body. No, th'other is a most delicate youth, a sweet face, a straight body, a well proportioned leg and foot, a white hand, a tender voice.  PHI. 
How now, ARGURION?  PHA. 
O, you should have let her alone, she was bestowing a copy of him upon us. Such a nose were enough to make me love a man, now.  PHI. 
And then his several colours he wears; wherein he flourisheth changeably, every day.  PHA. 
O, but his short hair, and his narrow eyes!  PHI. 
Why, she dotes more palpably upon him, then ere his father did upon her.  PHA. 
Believe me, the young gentleman deserves it. If she could dote more, 'twere not amiss. He is an exceeding proper youth, and would have made a most neat barber-surgeon, if he had been put to it in time.  PHI. 
Say you so? methinks, he looks like a tailor already.  PHA. 
ay, that had said on one of his customers suits. His face is like a squeezed orange, or—  ARG. 
Well, ladies, jest on: the best of you both would be glad of such a servant.  MOR. 
ay, I'll be sworn would they, though he be a little shamefaced.  PHA. 
Shamefaced, MORIA! out upon him. Your shamefaced servant is your only gull.  MOR. 
Go to, Beauties, make much of time, and place, and occasion, and opportunity, and favourites, and things that belong to 'em, for I'll ensure you, they will all relinquish; they cannot endure above another year; I know it out of future experience: and therefore take exhibition, and warning. I was once a reveller myself, and though I speak it (as mine own trumpet) I was then esteemed—  PHI. 
The very marchpane of the court, I warrant you?  PHA. 
And all the gallants came about you like flies, did they not?  MOR. 
Go to, they did somewhat, that's no matter now.  PHA. 
Nay, good MORIA, be not angry. Put case, that we four now had the grant from JUNO, to wish ourselves into what happy estate we could? what would you wish to be, MORIA?  MOR. 
Who I? Let me see now. I would wish to be a wise woman, and know all the secrets of court, city, and country. I would know what were done behind the arras, what upon the stairs, what i' the garden, what i' the nymph's chamber, what by barge, & what by coach. I would tell you which courtier were scabbed, and which not; which lady had her own face to lie with her a-nights, & which not; who put off their teeth with their clothes in court, who their hair, who their complexion; and in which box they put it. There should not a Nymph, or a widow be got with child i' the verge, but I would guess (within one or two,) who was the right father: and in what month it was gotten; with what words; and which way. I would tell you, which Madame loved a Monsieur, which a player, which a page; who slept with her husband, who with her friend, who with her gentleman-usher, who with her horse-keeper, who with her monkey, and who with all. Yes, and who jigged the cock too.  PHA. 
Fie, you'd tell all,  MORIA. 
If I should wish now, it should be to have your tongue out. But what says PHILAUTIA? who would she be?  PHI. 
Troth, the very same I am. Only I would wish myself a little more command, and sovereignty; that all the court were subject to my absolute beck, and all things in it depending on my look; as if there were no other heaven, but in my smile, nor other hell, but in my frown; that I might send for any man I list, and have his head cut off, when I have done with him; or made an eunuch, if he denied me: and if I saw a better face than mine own, I might have my doctor to poison it. What would you wish, PHANTASTE?  PHA. 
Faith, I cannot (readily) tell you what; But (methinks) I should wish myself all manner of creatures. Now, I would be an empress; and by and by a duchess; then a great lady of state; then one of your miscellany madams; then a waiting-woman; than your citizens wife; then a course country gentlewoman; then a dairy maid; then a shepherds lass; then an empress again, or the queen of fairies: And thus I would prove the vicissitudes, and whirl of pleasures, about, and again. As I were a shepherdess, I would be piped and sung too; as a dairy wench, I would dance at may-poles, and make syllabubs; As a country gentlewoman, keep a good house, and come up to term, to see motions; As a citizens wife, be troubled with a jealous husband, and put to my shifts; (others' miseries should be my pleasures) As a waiting-woman, I would taste my lady's delights to her; As a miscellany madame invent new tires, and go visit courtiers; As a great lady, lie a-bed, and have courtiers visit me; As a duchess, I would keep my state: and as an empress, I'd do any thing. And, in all these shapes, I would ever be followed with th' affections of all that see me. marry, I myself would affect none; or if I did, it should not be heartily, but so as I might save myself in 'em still, and take pride in tormenting the poor wretches. Or, (now I think on't) I would, for one year, wish myself one woman, but the richest, fairest, and delicatest in a kingdom, the very centre of wealth, and beauty, wherein all lines of love should meet; and in that person I would prove all manner of suitors, of all humours, and of all complexions, and never have any two of a sort: I would see how Love (by the power of his object) could work inwardly alike, in a choleric man, and a sanguine; in a melancholic, and a phlegmatic; in a fool, and a wise man; in a clown, and a courtier; in a valiant man, and a coward: and how he could vary outward, by letting this gallant express himself in dumb gaze; another with sighing, and rubbing his fingers; a third, with play-ends, and pitiful verses; a fourth, with stabbing himself, and drinking healths, or writing languishing letters in his blood; a fifth, in coloured ribbons, and good clothes; with this lord to smile, and that lord to court, and the tother lord to dote, and one lord to hang himself. And then, I to have a book made of all this, which I would call the book of humours, and every night read a little piece, ere I slept, and laugh at it. Here comes HEDON.   

Act IV. Scene II.  HEDON, ANAIDES, mercury, PHANTASTE, PHILAUTIA, MORIA, ARGURION, CUPID. 
Save you, sweet and clear beauties: By the spirit that moves in me, you are all most pleasingly bestowed, ladies. Only, I can take it for no good omen, to find mine Honour so dejected.  PHI. 
You need not fear, sir, I did of purpose humble myself against your coming, to decline the pride of my ambition.  HED. 
Fair Honour, Ambition dares not stoop; but if it be your sweet pleasure, I shall lose that title, I will (as I am HEDON) apply myself to your bounties.  PHI. 
That were the next way to distil myself of honour. O, no, rather be still ambitious, I pray you.  HED. 
I will be any thing that you please, whilst it pleaseth you to be yourself, lady. Sweet PHANTASTE, dear MORIA, most beautiful ARGURION—  ANA. 
Farewell, HEDON.  HED. 
ANAIDES, stay, whither go you?  ANA. 
'Slight, what should I do here? and you engross 'em all for your own use, 'tis time for me to seek out.  HED. 
ay, engross 'em? Away, mischief, this is one of your extravagantiests now, because I began to salute 'em by their names—  ANA. 
Faith, you might have spared us Madame Prudence, the Guardian there, though you had more covetously aimed at the rest.  HED. 
S'heart, take 'em all, man: what speak you to me of aiming, or covetous?  ANA. 
ay, say you so? nay, then, have at 'em: ladies, here's one hath distinguished you by your names already. It shall only become me, to ask, How you do?  HED. 
God's so, was this the design you travailed with?  PHA. 
Who answers the brazen head? it spoke to somebody.  ANA. 
Lady Wisdom, do you interpret for these puppets?  MOR. 
In truth, and sadness (Honours) you are in great offence for this, go too: the gentleman (I'll undertake with him) is a man of fair living, and able to maintain a lady in her two caroches a day, besides pages, monkeys, and parachitos, with such attendants as she shall think meet for her turn, and therefore there is more respect requirable, howsoe'er you seem to connive. Hark you, sir, let me discourse a syllable with you. I am to say to you, these ladies are not of that close, and open behaviour, as happily you may suspend; their carriage is well known, to be such as it should be, both gentle and extraordinary.  MOR. 
O, here comes the other pair.   

Act IV. Scene III.  AMORPHUS, ASOTUS, HEDON, ANAIDES, mercury, CUPID, PHANTASTE, PHILAUTIA, ARGURION, MORIA. 
THat was your father's love, the Nymph ARGURION. I would have you direct all your courtship thither, if you could but endear yourself to her affection, you were eternally engallanted.  ASO. 
In truth, sir? pray PHOEBUS I prove favoursome in her fair eyes.  AMO. 
All divine mixture, and increase of beauty to this bright bevy of ladies; and to the male-courtiers, complement, and courtesy.  HED. 
In the behalf of the males, I gratify you, AMORPHUS.  PHA. 
And I, of the females.  AMO. 
Succinctly returned. I do vale to both your thanks, and kiss them: but primarily to yours, most ingenious, acute, and polite lady.  PHI. 
God's my life, how he does all to bequalify her! ingenious, acute, and polite? as if there were not others in place as ingenious, acute, and polite, as she.  HED. 
Yes, but you must know, lady, he cannot speak out of a dictionary method.  PHA. 
Sit down, sweet AMORPHUS: When will this water come, think you?  AMO. 
It cannot now be long, fair lady.  CVP. 
Now observe, MERCURY.  ASO. 
How? most ambiguous beauty? love you? that I will by this handkercher.  MER. 
'Slid, he draws his oaths out of his pocket.  ARG. 
But, will you be constant?  ASO. 
Constant, Madam? I will not say for constantness, but by this purse (which I would be loath to swear by, unless 'twere embroidered) I protest (more than most fair lady) you are the only, absolute, and unparallelled creature, I do adore, and admire, and respect, and reverence in this court, corner of the world, or kingdom: methinks you are melancholy.  ARG. 
does your heart speak all this?  ASO. 
Say you?—  MER. 
O, he is groping for another oath.  ASO. 
Now, by this watch (I made how forward the day is) I do unfeignedly vow myself ('slight 'tis deeper than I took it, past five) yours entirely addicted, Madame.  ARG. 
I require no more, dearest ASOTUS, henceforth let me call you mine, and in remembrance of me, vouchsafe to wear this chain, and this diamond.  ASO. 
O god, sweet lady!  CVP. 
There are new oaths for him: what? doth HERMES taste no alteration, in all this?  MER. 
Yes, thou hast struck ARGURION enamoured on ASOTUS, the thinks.  CVP. 
Alas, no; I am nobody, I: I can do nothing in this disguise.  MER. 
But thou hast not wounded any of the rest, CUPID?  CVP. 
Not yet: it is enough that I have begun so prosperously.  ARG. 
Nay, these are nothing to the gems I will hourly bestow upon thee: be but faithful, and kind to me, and I will lade thee with my richest bounties: behold, here my bracelets, from mine arms.  ASO. 
Not so, good lady, By this diamond.  ARG. 
Take 'em, wear 'em: my jewels, chain of pearl, pendants, all I have.  ASO. 
Nay then, by this pearl, you make me a wanton.  CVP. 
Shall not she answer for this, to maintain him thus in swearing?  MER. 
O, no, there is a way to wean him from this, the gentleman may be reclaimed.  CVP. 
ay, if you had the airing of his apparel, cousin, I think.  ASO. 
Loving? 'twere pity I should be living else, believe me. Save you, sir. Save you, sweet lady. Save you, Monsieur ANAIDES. Save you, dear Madame.  ANA. 
Dost thou know him that saluted thee, HEDON?  HED. 
No, some idle FUNGOSO, that hath got above the cupboard, since yesterday.  ANA. 
'sblood, I never saw him till this morning, and he salutes me as familiarly, as if we had known together, since the deluge, or the first year of Troy-action.  AMO. 
A most right-handed, and auspicious encounter. Confine yourself to your fortunes.  PHI. 
For sport's sake, let's have some riddles, or purposes; hough.  PHA. 
No faith, your prophecies are best, the tother are stale.  PHI. 
Prophecies? we cannot all sit in at them; we shall make a confusion. No; what called you that we had in the forenoon?  PHA. 
Substantives, and Adjectives. be't not HEDON?  PHI. 
ay, that, who begins?  PHA. 
I have thought; speak your Adjectives, sirs.  PHI. 
But do not you change, then?  PHA. 
Not I, who says?  MOR. 
Odoriferous.  PHI. 
Popular.  ARG. 
Humble.  ANA. 
White-livered.  HED. 
Barbarous.  AMO 
Pythagorical.  HEAD 
Yours, signor.  ASO 
What must I do, sir?  AMO 
Give forth your adjective, with the rest; as, prosperous, good, fair, sweet, well—  HEAD 
Any thing, that hath not been spoken.  ASO 
Yes, sir: wellspoken, shall be mine.  PHA 
What? ha you all done?  ALL 
I..  PHA 
Then the Substantive is Breeches. Why odoriferous Breeches, Guardian?  MOR 
Odoriferous, because odoriferous; that which contains most variety of savour, and smell, we say is most odoriferous: now, Breeches I presume are incident to that variety, and therefore odoriferous Breeches.  PHA 
Well, we must take it howsoever, who's next? PHILAUTIA.  PHI 
Popular.  PHA 
Why popular Breeches?  PHI 
Marry, that is, when they are not content to be generally noted in court, but will press forth on common stages, and brokers stalls, to the public view of the world.  PHA 
Good: why humble Breeches? ARGURION.  ARG 
Humble, because they use to be sat upon; besides, if you tie 'em not up, their property is to fall down about your heels.  MER 
She has worn the breeches, it seems, which have done so.  PHA 
But why white-livered?  ANA 
Why? 'shart, are not their linings white? besides, when they come in swaggering company, and will pocket up any thing, may they not properly be said to be white-livered?  PHA 
O, yes, we must not deny it. And why barbarous, HE DON?  HEAD 
Barbarous, because commonly, when you have worn your breeches sufficiently, you give them to your Barber.  AMO 
That's good: but now Pythagorical?  PHA 
I, AMORPHUS. Why Pythagorical Breeches?  AMO 
O, most kindly of all, 'tis a conceit of that fortune, I am bold to hug my brain for.  PHA 
How be't, exquisite AMORPHUS?  AMO 
O, I am rapt with it, 'tis so fit, so proper, so happy—  PHI 
Nay, do not rack us thus?  AMO 
I never truly relished myself, before. Give me your ears. Bree che Pythagorical, by reason of their transmigration, into several shapes.  MOR 
Most rare, in sweet troth. Marry, this young gentleman, for his wellspoken—  PHA 
I, why wellspoken Breeches?  ASO 
wellspoken? marry wellspoken, because— whatsoever they speak, is well taken; and whatsoever is well taken, is wellspoken.  MOR 
Excellent! believe me.  ASO 
Not so, ladies, neither.  HEAD 
But why Breeches, now?  PHA 
Breeches, quasi beare-riches; when a gallant bears all his ri ches in his breeches:  AMO 
Most fortunately etymologized.  PHA 
Nay, we have another sport afore this, of A thing done, and Who did it, etc.  PHI 
I, good PHANTASTE, let's have that: Distribute the places.  PHA 
Why, I imagine, A thing done; HEDON thinks, Who did it; MORIA, With what it was done; ANAIDES, Where it was done; ARGURION, When it was done; AMORPHUS, For what cause it was done; you PHILAUTIA, What followed upon the doing of it; and this gentleman, Who would have done it better. What? is't conceived about?  ALL 
Yes, yes.  PHA 
The speak you, sir. Who would have done it better?  ASO 
How! does it begin at me?  PHA 
Yes, sir: This play is called the Crab, it goes backward.  ASO 
May I not name myself?  PHA 
If you please, sir, and dare abide the venture of it.  ASO 
Then, I would have done it better, what ever it is.  PHA 
No doubt on't, sir: a good confidence. What followed upon the act, PHILAUTIA?  PHI 
A few heat drops, and a months mirth.  PHA 
For what cause, AMORPHUS?  AMO 
For the delight of ladies.  PHA 
When, ARGVURION?  ARG 
Last progress.  PHA 
Where, ANAIDES?  ANA 
Why, in a pair of pained slops.  PHA 
With what, MORIA?  MOR 
With a glister.  PHA 
Who, HEDON?  HEAD 
A travailer.  PHA 
Then, The thing done was, An oration was made. Rehearse. An oration was made.  HEAD 
By a travailer.  MOR 
With a glister.  ANA 
In a pair of pained slops,  ARG 
Last progress.  AMO 
For the delight of ladies.  PHI 
A few heat drops, and a months mirth followed.  PHA 
And, this silent gentleman would have done it better.  ASO. 
This was not so good, now.  PHI. 
In good faith, these unhappy pages would be whipped, for staying thus.  MOR. 
Beshrew my hand, and my heart, else.  AMO. 
I do wonder at their protraction!  ANA. 
Pray VENUS, my whore have not discovered herself to the rascally hoys, and that be the cause of their stay.  ASO. 
I must suit myself with another page: this idle PROSAITES will never be brought to wait well.  MOR. 
Sir, I have a kinsman I could willingly wish to your service, if you would deign to accept of him.  ASO. 
And I shall be glad (most sweet lady) to embrace him: where is he?  MOR. 
I can fetch him, sir, but I would be loath to make you turn away your other page.  ASO. 
You shall not, most sufficient lady, I will keep both: pray you let's go see him.  ARG. 
Whither goes my love?  ASO. 
I'll return presently, I go but to see a page, with this lady.  ANA. 
As sure as fate, 't is so; she has opened all: A pox of all cockatrices. Dam'me, if she have played loose with me, I'll cut her throat, within a hairs breadth, so it may be healed again.  MER. 
What, is he jealous of his Hermaphrodite?  CVP. 
O, ay, this will be excellent sport.  PHI. 
PHANTASTE! ARGURION! what? you are suddenly struck, methinks! for loves sake let's have some music, till they come. Ambition, reach the lyra, I pray you.  HED. 
Any thing to which my Honour shall direct me.  PHI. 
Come, AMORPHUS, cheer up PHANTASTE.  AMO. 
It shall be my pride, fair lady, to attempt all that is in my power. But here is an instrument that (alone) is able to infuse soul in the most melancholic, and dull disposed creature upon earth. O! let me kiss thy fair knees. Beauteous ears attend it.  HED. 
Will you have the Kiss, Honour?  PHI. 
ay, good Ambition.  SONG. 
O, That joy so soon should waste!  
or so sweet a bliss  
as a kiss,  
Might not for ever last!  
So sugared, so melting, so soft, so delicious,  
The dew that lies on roses,  
When the morn herself discloses,  
is not so precious.  
O, rather than I would it smother,  
Were I to taste such another;  
It should be my wishing  
That I might die kissing.  HED. 
I made this ditty, and the note to it, upon a kiss that my Honour gave me; how like you it, sir?  AMO. 
A pretty air, in general, I like it well: but in particular, your long die-note did arride me most, but it was somewhat too long. I can show one, almost of the same nature, but much before it and not so long, in a composition of mine own. I think I have both the note, and ditty about me.  HED. 
Pray you, sir, see.  AMO. 
Yes, there is the note; and all the parts if I misthink not. I will read the ditty to your beauties here, but first I am to make you familiar with the occasion, which presents itself thus. Upon a time, going to take my leave of the Emperor, and kiss his great hands; there being then present, the kings of France, and Arragon, the dukes of Savoy, Florence, Orleance, Bourbon, Brunswick, the Landgrave, Count Palatine, all which had severally feasted me; besides, infinite more of inferior persons, as Counts and others it was my chance the Emperor detained by some exorbitant affair) to wait him the fift part of an hour, or much near it. In which time (retiring myself into a bay-window) the beauteous lady ANNABELL, niece to the Empress, and sister to the King of Arragon, who having never before eyed me, (but only heard the common report of my virtue, learning, and travail) fell into that extremity of passion, for my love, that she there immediately swooned: physicians were sent for, she had to her chamber, so to her bed; where (languishing some few days) after many times calling upon me, with my name in her lips, she expired. As that (I must mourningly say) is the only fault of my fortune, that, as it hath ever been my hap to be sewed to, by all ladies, and beauties, where I have come, so, I never yet sojourned, or rested in that place, or part of the world, where some high-born admirable fair feature died not for my love.  MER. 
O, the sweet power of travail! are you guilty of this, CUPID?  CVP. 
No, mercury, and that his page (COS) knows, if he were here present to be sworn.  PHI. 
But, how doth this draw on the ditty, sir?  MER. 
O, she is too quick with him; he hath not devised that yet.  AMO. 
marry, some hour before she departed, she bequeathed to me this glove; which golden legacy, the Emperor himself took care to send after me, in six coaches, covered all with black vellet, attended by the state of his empire; all which he freely presented me with, and I reciprocally (out of the same bounty) gave to the lords that brought it: only reserving the gift of the deceased lady, upon which I composed this ode, and set it to my most affected instrument, the lyra.  SONG. 
THou more than most sweet glove,  
Unto my more sweet love,  
Suffer me to store with kisses  
This empty lodging, that now misses  
The pure rosy hand, that ware thee,  
Whiter than the kid, that bore thee.  
Thou art soft, but that was softer;  
Cupid's self hath kissed it ofter,  
Than e'er he did his mother's doves,  
Supposing her the Queen of loves,  
That was thy Mistress,  
Best of gloves.  MER. 
Blasphemy, blasphemy, CUPID.  CVP. 
ay, I'll revenge it time enough; HERMES.  PHI. 
Good AMORPHUS, let's hear it sing.  AMO. 
I care not to admit that, since it pleaseth PHILAUTIA to request it.  HED. 
Here, sir.  AMO. 
After he hath sung. Nay, play it, I pray you, you do well, you do well— How like you it, sir?  HED. 
Very well in troth.  AMO. 
But very well? O, you are a mere mammothrept in judgement then. Why, do you not observe how excellently the ditty is affected in every place? that I do not marry a word of short quantity to a long note? nor an ascending syllable to a descending tone? Besides, upon the word (best) there, you see how I do enter with an odd minnum, and drive it thorough the brief, which no intelligent Musician (I know) but will affirm to be very rare, extraordinary, and pleasing.  MER. 
And yet not fit to lament the death of a lady, for all this.  CVP. 
Tut, here be they will swallow any thing.  PHA. 
Pray you let me have a copy of it, AMORPHUS.  PHI. 
And me too, in troth, I like it exceedingly.  AMO. 
I have denied it to princes, nevertheless to you (the true female twins of perfection) I am won, to depart withal.  HED. 
I hope I shall have my honour's copy.  PHA. 
Who is returned from seeking his page. You are ambitious in that, HEDON.  AMO. 
How now, ANAIDES! what is it hath conjured up this distemperature in the circle of your face?  ANA. 
'sblood, what have you to do? A pox upon your filthy travailing face, hold your tongue.  HED. 
Nay, dost hear, mischief?  ANA. 
Away, musk-cat.  AMO. 
I say to thee, thou art rude, debauched, impudent, course, impolish, a frapler, and base.  HED. 
Heart of my father, what a strange alteration has half a years haunting of ordinaries wrought in this fellow! that came with a tuft-taffeta jerkin to town but the other day, and a pair of penniless hose, and now he is turned HERCULES, he wants but a club.  ANA. 
Sir, you with the pencil on your chin; I will garter my hose with your guts, and that shall be all.  MER. 
'Slid, what rare fireworks be here? flash, flash.  PHA. 
What's the matter HEDON? can you tell?  HED. 
Nothing, but that he lacks crowns, and thinks we'll lend him some, to be friends.  ASO. 
Come, Asotus returns with Moria, and Morus. sweet lady, in good truth I'll have it, you shall not deny me. MORUS, persuade your aunt I may have her picture, by any means.  MOR. 
Yes, sir: good aunt now, let him have it, he will use me the better, if you love me, do, good aunt.  MOR. 
Well, tell him, he shall have it.  MOR. 
Master, you shall have it, she says.  ASO. 
Shall I? thank her, good page.  CVP. 
What, has he entertained the fool?  MER. 
ay, he'll wait close, you shall see, though the beggar hang off, awhile.  MOR. 
Aunt, my master thanks you.  MOR. 
Call him hither.  MOR. 
Yes, master  MOR. 
Yes, in verity, and gave me this purse, and he has promised me a most fine dog; which he will have drawn, with my picture, he says: and desires most vehemently to be known to your ladyships.  PHA. 
Call him hither, 'tis good groping such a gull.  MOR. 
Master ASOTUS, master ASOTUS.  ASO. 
For loves sake, let me go: you see, I am called to the ladies.  ARG. 
Wilt thou forsake me then?  ASO. 
God so, what would you have me do?  MOR. 
Come hither, master ASOTUS. I do ensure your ladyships, he is a gentleman of a very worthy desert: and of a most bountiful nature. You must show and insinuate yourself responsible, and equivalent now to my commendment. Good Honours, grace him.  ASO. 
I protest (more than most fair ladies) I do wish all variety of divine pleasures, choice sports, sweet music, rich fare, brave attire, soft beds, and silken thoughts attend these fair beauties. Will it please your ladyship to wear this chain of pearl, and this diamond, for my sake?  ARG. 
O.  ASO. 
And you, Madame, this jewel, and pendants.  ARG. 
O.  PHA. 
we know not how to deserve these bounties, out of so slight merit, ASOTUS.  PHI. 
No, in faith, but there's my glove for a favour.  PHA. 
And soon, after the revels, I will bestow a garter on you.  ASO. 
O Lord, ladies! it is more grace than ever I could have hoped, but that it pleaseth your ladyships to extend. I protest, it is enough, that you but take knowledge of my— if your ladyships want embroidered gowns, tires of any fashion, rebatoes, jewels, or carcanets, any thing whatsoever, if you vouchsafe to accept.  CVP. 
And for it, they will help you to shoe-ties, and devices.  ASO. 
I cannot utter myself (dear beauties) but, you can conceive—  ARG. 
O.  PHA. 
Sir, we will acknowledge your service, doubt not: henceforth, you shall be no more ASOTUS to us, but our goldfinch, and we your cages.  ASO. 
O VENUS, Madams! how shall I deserve this? if I were but made acquainted with HEDON, now, I'll try: pray you away.  MER. 
How he prays Money to go away from him!  ASO. 
AMORPHUS, a word with you: here's a watch I would bestow upon you, pray you make me known to that gallant.  AMO. 
That I will, sir. Monsieur HEDON, I must entreat you to exchange knowledge with this gentleman.  HED. 
'Tis a thing (next to the water we expect) I thirst after, sir. Good Monsieur ASOTUS.  ASO. 
Good Monsieur HEDON, I would be glad to be loved of men of your rank, and spirit, I protest. Please you to accept this pair of bracelets, sir: they are not worth the bestowing—  MER. 
O, HERCULES, how the gentleman purchases! this must needs bring ARGURION to a consumption.  HED. 
Sir, I shall never stand in the merit of such bounty, I fear.  ASO. 
O, VENUS, sir; your acquaintance shall be sufficient. And if at any time you need my bill, or my bond.  ARG. 
Argurion swoons. O, Ô.  AMO. 
Help the lady there.  MOR. 
God's dear, ARGURION! Madame, how do you?  ARG. 
Sick.  PHA. 
Have her forth, and give her air.  ASO. 
I come again straight, ladies.  MER. 
Well, I doubt, all the physic he has will scarce recover her: she's too far spent.   

Act IV. Scene IIII.  PHILAUTIA, GELAIA, ANAIDES, COS, PROSAITES, PHANTASTE, MORIA, AMORPHUS, HEDON. 
O Here's the water come: fetch glasses, page.  GEL. 
Heart of my body, here's a coil indeed, with your jealous humours. Nothing but whore, and bitch, and all the villainous swaggering names you can think on? 'Slid, take your bottle, and put it in your guts for me, I'll see you poxed ere I follow you any longer.  ANA. 
Nay, good punk, sweet rascal; damn me, if I am jealous now.  GEL. 
That's true indeed: pray let's go.  MOR. 
What's the matter, there?  GEL. 
'Slight, he has me upon intergatories, (nay, my mother shall know how you use me) where I have been? and, why I should stay so long? and, how be't possible? and withal, calls me at his pleasure, I know not how many cockatrices, and things.  MOR. 
In truth and sadness, these are no good epitaphs, ANAIDES, to bestow upon any gentlewoman; and (I'll ensure you) if I had known you would have dealt thus with my daughter, she should never have fancied you so deeply, as she has done. Go too.  ANA. 
Why, do you hear, mother MORIA. Heart!  MOR. 
Nay, I pray you, sir, do not swear.  ANA. 
Swear? why? 'sblood, I have sworn afore now, I hope. Both you and your daughter mistake me. I have not honoured ARETE, that is held the worthiest lady in court (next to CYNTHIA) with half that observance, and respect, as I have done her in private, howsoever outwardly I have carried myself careless, and negligent. Come, you are a foolish, punk, and know not when you are well employed. Kiss me, come on. Do it, I say.  MOR. 
Nay, indeed I must confess, she is apt to misprision. But I must have you leave it, minion.  AMO. 
How now, ASOTUS? how does the lady?  ASO. 
Faith, ill. I have left my page with her, at her lodging.  HED. 
O, here's the rarest water that ever was tasted: fill him some.  PRO. 
What! has my master a new page?  MER. 
Yes, a kinsman of the lady MORIAS: you must wait better now, or you are cashiered, PROSAITES.  ANA. 
Come, gallants, you must pardon my foolish humour: when I am angry, that any thing crosses me, I grow impatient straight. Here, I drink to you.  PHI. 
O, that we had five, or six bottles more of this liquour.  PHA 
Now I commend your judgement, AMORPHUS, who's that knocks? Look, page.  MOR 
O, most delicious, a little of this would make ARGURION well.  PHA 
O, no, give her no cold drink, by any means.  ANA 
'Sblood, this water is the spirit of wine, I'll be hanged else.  CVP. 
Here's the lady ARETE, Madame.   

Act IIII. Scene V.  ARETE, MORIA, PHANTASTE, PHILAUTIA, ANAIDES, GELAIA, COS, PROSAITES, AMORPHUS, ASOTUS, HEDON, MERCURY, CUPID. 
WHat! at your beaver, gallants?  MOR 
willt please your ladyship drink? 'tis of the new fountain water.  ARE 
Not I, MORIA, I thank you. Gallants, you are for this night free, to your peculiar delights; CYNTHIA will have no sports: when she is pleased to come forth, you shall have knowledge. In the mean time, I could wish you did provide for solemn revels, and some vnlook't-for device of wit, to entertain her, against she should vouchsafe to grace your pastimes with her presence.  AMO 
What say you to a mask?  HEAD 
Nothing better, if the project were new, and rare.  ARE 
Why, I'll send for CRITES, and have his advice; be you ready in your endeavours: He shall discharge you of the inventive part.  PHA 
But, will not your ladyship stay?  ARE 
Not now, PHANTASTE.  PHI 
Let her go, I pray you, good lady Sobriety, I am glad we are rid of her.  PHA 
What a set face the gentlewoman has, as she were still going to a sacrifice?  PHI 
O, she is the extraction of a dozen of Puritans, for a look.  MOR 
Of all Nymphs i' the court, I cannot away with her; 'tis the coarsest thing—  PHI 
I wonder, how CYNTHIA can affect her so above the rest! Here be they are every way as fair as she, and a thought fairer, I trow.  PHA 
I, and as ingenious, and conceited as she.  MOR 
I, and as politic as she, for all she sets such a forehead on't.  PHI 
Would I were dead, if I would change to be CYNTHIA.  PHA 
Or I.  MOR 
Or I.  AMO 
And there's her minion CRITES! why his advice more than AMORPHUS? have not I invention, afore him? Learning, to better that invention, above him? and infanted, with pleasant travail—  ANA 
Death, what talk you of his learning? he understands no more than a schoolboy; I have put him down myself a thousand times (by this air) and yet I never talked with him but twice, in my life: you never saw his like. I could never get him to argue with me, but once, and then, because I could not construe an Author I quoted at first sight, he went away, and laughed at me. By HERCULES, I scorn him, as I do the sod den Nymph, that was here e'en now, his mistress ARETE: And I love myself for nothing else.  HEAD 
I wonder the fellow does not hang himself, being thus scorned, and contemned of us that are held the most accomplished society of gallants!  MER 
By yourselves, none else.  HEAD 
I protest, if I had no music in me, no courtship, that I were not a reveller and could dance, or had not those excellent qualities that give a man life, and perfection, but a mere poor scholar as he is, I think I should make some desperate way with myself, whereas now (would I might never breath more) if I do know that creature in the kingdom, with whom I would change.  CVP. 
This is excellent: well, I must alter all this soon.  MER 
Look you do, CUPID. The bottles have wrought, it seems.  ASO 
O, I am sorry the revels are crossed. I should ha' tickled it soon. I did never appear till then. 'Slid, I am the neatlyest-made gallant i' the company, and have the best presence; and my dancing— well, I know what our usher said to me, lasst time I was at the school: would I might have lead PHILAUTIA in the measures, and it had been the gods will. I am most worthy, I am sure.  MORUS. 
Master, I can tell you news, the lady kissed me yonder, and played with me, and says she loved you once, as well as she does me, but that you cast her off.  ASO 
Peace, my most esteemed page.  MORUS. 
Yes.  ASO 
What luck is this, that our revels are dashed? Now was I be beginning to glister, i' the very high way of preferment. And CYNTHIA had but seen me dance a strain, or do but one trick, I had been kept in court, I should never have needed to look towards my friends again.  AMO 
Contain yourself. You were a fortunate young man, if you knew your own good: which I have now projected, and will presently multiply upon you. Beauties, and Valours, your vouchsafed applause to a motion. the humorous CYNTHIA hath, for this night, withdrawn the light of your delight—  PHA 
'tis true AMORPHUS, what may we do to redeem it?  AMO 
Redeem that we cannot, but, to create a new flame, is in our power. Here is a gentleman my scholar, whom (for some private reasons me specially moving) I am covetous to gratify with title of Master, in the noble, and subtle science of Courtship: For which grace, he shall this night in court, and in the long gallery, hold his public Act, by open challenge, to all Masters of the mystery whatsoever, to play at the four choice, and principal weapons thereof, viz. the bare Accost, the better Regard, the solemn Address, and the perfect Close. What say you?  ALL. 
Excellent, excellent, AMORPHUS.  AMO. 
Well, let us then take our time by the forehead: I will instantly have bills drawn, and advanced in every angle of the court. Sir, betray not your too much joy. ANAIDES, we must mix this gentleman with you in acquaintance, Monsieur asotus.  ANA. 
I am easily entreated to grace any of your friends, AMORPHUS.  ASO. 
Sir, and his friends shall likewise grace you, sir. Nay, I begin to know myself, now.  AMO. 
O, you must continue your bounties.  ASO. 
Must I? why, I'll give him this ruby on my finger. Do you hear, sir? I do heartily with your acquaintance, and I partly know myself worthy of it; please you, sir, to accept this poor ruby, in a ring, sir. The poesy is of my own device. Let this blush for me, sir.  ANA. 
So it must for me, too. For I am not ashamed to take it.  MORUS. 
Sweet man! by my troth, master, I love you, will you love me, too? for my ants sake? I'll wait well, you shall see. I'll still be here. Would I might never stir, but you are a fine man in these clothes, Master, shall I have 'em, when you have done with them?  ASO. 
As for that, MORUS, thou shalt see more hereafter: in the mean time, by this air, or by this feather, I'll do as much for thee, as any gallant shall do for his page, whatsoever, in this court, corner of the world, or kingdom.  MER. 
I wonder, this gentleman should affect to keep a fool! methinks, he makes sport enough with himself.  CVP. 
Well, PROSAITES, 'twere good you did wait closer.  PRO. 
ay, I'll look to it; 'tis time.  COS. 
The revels would have been most sumptuous tonight, if they had gone forward.  MER. 
They must needs, when all the choicest singularities of the court were up in pantofles; ne'er a one of them, but was able to make a whole show of itself.  ASO. 
Within. Sirrah, a torch, a torch.  PRO. 
O, what a call is there! I will have a canzonet made, with nothing in it, but sirrah; and the burden shall be, I come.  MER. 
How now, CUPID, how do you like this change?  CVP. 
Faith, the thread of my device is cracked, I may go sleep till the reveling music awake me.  MER. 
And there too, CUPID, without you had prevented the Fountain. Alas, poor god, that remembers not self-love, to be proof against the violence of his quiver! Well, I have a plot upon these prizers, for which, I must presently find out CRITES, and with his assistance, pursue it to a high strain of laughter, or mercury hath lost of his metal.    


Act V. Scene I.  mercury, CRITES. 
IT is resolved on, CRITES, you must do it.  CRI. 
The grace divinest mercury hath done me,  
In this vouchsafed discovery of himself,  
Binds my observance in the utmost term  
Of satisfaction, to his godly will:  
Though I profess (without the affectation)  
Of an enforced, and formed austerity)  
I could be willing to enjoy no place  
With so unequal natures.  MER. 
We believe it.  
But for our sake, and to inflict just pains  
On their prodigious follies, aid us now:  
No man is, presently, made bad, with ill.  
And good men, like the sea, should still maintain  
Their noble taste, in midst of all fresh humours,  
That flow about them, to corrupt their streams,  
Bearing no season, much less salt of goodness.  
It is our purpose, CRITES, to correct,  
And punish, with our laughter, this night's sport  
Which our court-doors so heartily intend:  
And by that worthy scorn, to make them know  
How far beneath the dignity of man  
Their serious, and most practised actions are.  CRI. 
ay, but though mercury can warrant out  
His under-takings, and make all things good,  
Out of the powers of his divinity,  
Th'offence will be returned with weight on me,  
That am a creature so despised, and poor;  
When the whole Court shall take itself abused  
By our ironical confederacy.  MER. 
You are deceived. The better race in court  
That have the true nobility, called virtue,  
Will apprehend it, as a grateful right  
Done to their separate merit: and approve  
The fit rebuke of so ridiculous heads,  
Who with their apish customs, and forced garbs,  
Would bring the name of courtier in contempt,  
Did it not live unblemished in some few,  
Whom equal JOVE hath loved, and PHOEBUS formed  
Of better metal, and in better mould.  CRI. 
Well, since my leader on is mercury,  
I shall not fear to follow. If I fall,  
My proper virtue shall be my relief,  
That followed such a cause, and such a chief.   

Act V. Scene II.  ASOTUS, AMORPHUS. 
NO more, if you love me, good master, you are incompatible to live withal: Send me for the ladies.  AMO. 
Nay, but intend me.  ASO. 
Fear me not, I warrant you, sir.  AMO. 
Render not yourself a refractory, on the sudden. I can allow well, you should repute highly, heartily (and to the most) of your own endowments; it gives you forth to the world the more assured: but with reservation of an eye, to be always turned dutifully back upon your teacher.  ASO. 
Nay, good, sir, leave it to me. Trust me with trussing all the points of this action, I pray. 'Slid, I hope we shall find wit to perform the science, as well as another.  AMO. 
I confess you to be of an aped, and docible humour. Yet, there are certain punctilioes, or (as I may more nakedly insinuate them) certain intrinsicate strokes, and wards, to which your activity is not yet amounted. As your gentile dor, in colours. For supposition, your mistress appears here in prize, ribbanded with green, and yellow; now it is the part of every obsequious servant, to be sure to have daily about him copy, and variety of colours, to be presently answerable to any hourly, or half-hourly change in his mistress revolution.—  ASO. 
(I know it, sir.  AMO. 
Give leave, I pray you) which if your Antagonist, or player-against-you shall ignorantly be without, and yourself can produce; you give him the dor.  ASO. 
ay, ay, sir.  AMO. 
Or, if you can possess your opposite, that the green your mistress wears, is her rejoicing or exultation in his service; the yellow, suspicion of his truth, (from her height of affection:) and that he (greenly credulous) shall withdraw thus, in private, and from the abundance of his pocket (to displace her jealous conceit) steal into his hat the colour, whose blueness doth express trueness, (she being nor so, nor so affected) you give him the dor.  ASO. 
Do not I know it, sir?  AMO. 
Nay, good— swell not above your understanding. There is yet a third dor, in colours.  ASO. 
I know it too, I know it.  AMO. 
Do you know it too? what is it? Make good your knowledge.  ASO. 
Why it is— no matter for that.  AMO. 
Do it, on poene of the dor.  ASO. 
Why? what is't, say you?  AMO. 
Lo, you have given yourself the dor. But I will remonstrate to you the third dor; which is not, as the two former dors, indicative, but deliberative: As how? As thus. Your Rivalis, with a dutiful, and serious care, lying in his bed, meditating how to observe his mistress, dispatcheth his lackey to the chamber, early, to know what her colours are for the day; with purpose to apply his wear that day, accordingly: You lay wait before, preoccupy the chambermaid, corrupt her, to return false colours; He follows the fallacy; comes out accoutred to his believed instructions; your mistress smiles; and you give him the dor.  ASO. 
Why, so I told you, sir, I knew it.  AMO. 
Told me? It is a strange outrecuidance! your humour too much redoundeth.  ASO. 
Why, sir, what, do you think you know more?  AMO. 
I know that a cook may as soon, and properly be said to smell well, as you to be wise. I know these are most clear, and clean strokes. But then, you have your passages, and imbrocatas in courtship; as the bitter Rob in wit; the Reverse in face, or wry-mouth; and these more subtle, and secure offenders. I will example unto you. Your opponent makes entry, as you are engaged with your mistress. You seeing him, close in her ear, with this whisper (here comes your baboon, disgrace him) and withal, stepping off, fall on his bosom, and turning to her, politicly, aloud say, lady, regard this noble gentleman, a man rarely parted, second to none in this court; and then, stooping over his shoulder, your hand on his breast, your mouth on his backside, you give him the Reverse stroke, with this Sanna, or Storks-bill, which makes up your wits Bob, most bitter.  ASO. 
Nay, for heavens sake, teach me no more. I know all as well— 'Slid, if I did not, why was I nominated? why did you choose me? why did the ladies prick out me? I am sure there were other gallants. But me of all the rest? By that light, and as I am a courtier, would I might never stir, but 'tis strange. Would to the lord, the ladies would come once.   

Act V. Scene III.  MORPHIDES, AMORPHUS, ASOTUS, HEDON, ANAIDES, THE THRONG. LADIES, CITIZEN, WIFE, PAGES, tailor, MERCER, PERFUMER, JEWELLER, etc. 
signor, the gallants and ladies are at hand. Are you ready, sir?  AMO. 
Instantly. Go, accomplish your attire: Cousin MORPHIDES, assist me, to make good the door with your officious tyranny.  CIT. 
By your leave my masters there, pray you let's come by.  PAG. 
You by? why should you come by, more than we?  WIT. 
Why, sir? Because he is my brother, that plays the prizes.  MOR. 
Your brother?  CIT. 
ay, her brother, sir, and we must come in.  TAY. 
Why, what are you?  CIT. 
I am her husband, sir.  TAY. 
Then thrust forward your head.  AMO. 
What tumult is there?  MOR. 
Who's there? bear back there. Stand from the door.  AMO. 
Enter none but the ladies, and their hang-byes; welcome Beauties, and your kind Shadows.  HED. 
This country lady, my friend, good signor AMORPHUS.  ANA. 
And my cockatrice, here.  AMO. 
She is welcome.  MOR. 
Knock those same pages there; and goodman Coxcomb the citizen, who would you speak withal?  AMO. 
With whom? your brother?  MOR. 
Who is your brother?  AMO. 
Master ASOTUS? Is he your brother? He is taken up with great persons. He is not to know you tonight.  ASO. 
O JOVE, master! and there come ere a citizen gentlewoman in my name, let her have entrance, I pray you. It is my sister.  WIT. 
Brother.  CIT. 
Brother, master ASOTUS.  ASO. 
Who's there?  WIT. 
'Tis I, brother.  ASO. 
God's me! There she is, good master, intrude he.  MOR. 
Make place. Bear back there.  AMO. 
Knock that simple fellow, there.  WIT. 
Nay, good sir; It is my husband.  MOR. 
The simpler fellow he. Away, back with your head, sir.  ASO. 
Brother, you must pardon your nonentry: Husbands are not allowed here in truth. I'll come home soon with my sister; pray you meet us with a lantern, brother. Be merry, sister: I shall make you laugh anon.  PHA. 
Your prizer is not ready AMORPHUS.  AMO. 
Apprehend your places, he shall be soon; and at all points.  ANA. 
Is there anybody come to answer him? Shall we have any sport.  AMO. 
Sport of importance; howsoever, give me the gloves.  HED. 
Gloves! why gloves, signor?  PHI. 
He distributes gloves. What's the ceremony?  AMO. 
Besides their received fitness, at all prizes, they are here properly accommodate to the nuptials of my scholars haviour to the lady courtship. Please you apparel your hands. Madam PHANTASTE, madam PHILAUTIA, Guardian, signor HEDON, signor ANAIDES, Gentlemen all, Ladies.  ALL. 
Thanks, good AMORPHUS.  AMO. 
I will now call forth my provost, and present him.  ANA. 
Heart! why should not we be masters, as well as he?  HED. 
That's true, and play our master's prizes, as well as the tother?  MOR. 
In sadness, for using your court-weapons, methinks, you may.  PHA. 
Nay, but why should not we ladies play our prizes, I pray? I see no reason, but we should take 'em down, at their own weapons.  PHI. 
Troth, and so we may, if we handle 'em well.  WIF. 
I indeed, forsooth, Madame, if 'twere i' the city, we would think foul scorn, but we would, forsooth.  PHA. 
Pray you, what should we call your name?  WIF. 
My name is, Downfall.  HED. 
Good mistress Downfall! I am sorry, your husband could not get in.  WIF. 
'Tis no matter for him, sir.  ANA. 
No, no, she has the more liberty for herself.  PHA. 
Peace, A flourish. peace: They come.  AMO. 
So. Keep up your ruff: the tincture of your neck is not all so pure, but it will ask it. Maintain your sprig upright; your cloak on your half-shoulder falling; So: I will read your bill, advance it, and present you. Silence.  

Be it known to all that profess courtship, The challenge by these presents (from the white satin reveller, to the cloth of tissue, and bodkin) that we, ULYSSES-POLYTROPUS-AMORPHUS, Master of the noble, and subtle science of courtship, do give leave and licence to our Provost, acolastus-polypragmon-asotus, to play his Master's prize, against all Masters whatsoever in this subtle mystery, at these four, the choice, and most cunning weapons of court-complement, viz. the bare Accost; the better regard; the solemn Address; and the perfect Close. These are therefore to give notice, to all comers, that he, she said Acolastus-Polypragmon-Asotus, is here present (by the help of his Mercer, tailor, Milliner, Sempster, and so forth) at his designed hour, in this fair gallery, the present day of this present month, to perform, and do his uttermost for the achievement, and bearing away of the prizes, which are these: viz. for the bare Accost, two Wall-eyes, in a face forced: For the better regard, a Face favourably simpering, with a Farm waving: For the solemn Address, two Lips wagging, and never a wise word: For the perfect Close, a Wring by the hand, with a Banquet in a corner. And PHOEBUS save CYNTHIA.   
Appeareth no man yet, to answer the prizer? No voice? Music, give them their summons. Music sounds.  PHA. 
The solemnity of this is excellent.  AMO. 
Silence. Well, I perceive your name is their terror; and keepeth them back.  ASO. 
i'faith, Master, Let's go: nobody comes. Victus, victa, victum; Victi, victae, victi— Let's be retrograde.  AMO. 
Stay. That were dispunct to the ladies. Rather, ourself shall be your Encounter. Take your state, up, to the wall: And, lady, may we implore you to stand forth, as first term, or bound to our courtship.  HED. 
A charge. 'Fore heaven, 'twill show rarely.  AMO. 
Sound a charge.  ANA. 
A pox on't. Your vulgar will count this fabulous, and impudent, now: by that candle, they'll ne'er conceit it.  PHA. 
Excellent well! Admirable!  PHI. 
Peace.  HED. 
They act their accost severally to the lady that stands forth. Most fashionably, believe it.  PHI. 
O, he is a wellspoken gentleman.  PHA. 
Now the other.  PHI. 
Very good.  HED. 
For a Scholar, Honour.  ANA. 
O, 'tis too dutch. He reels too much.  HED. 
A flourish. This weapon is done.  AMO. 
No, we have our two bouts, at every weapon, expect.   

Act V. Scene IIII.  To them. CRITES, mercury. 
WHere be these gallants, and their brave prizer here?  MORP. 
Who's there? bear back: Keep the door.  AMOR. 
What are you, sir?  CRIT. 
By your licence, grandmaster. Come forward, sir.  ANAI. 
Heart! who let in that rag there, amongst us? put him out, an impecunious creature.  HEDO. 
Out with him.  MORP. 
Come, sir.  AMOR. 
You must be retrograde.  CRIT. 
Soft, sir, I am Truchman, and do flourish before this Monsieur, or french-behaved gentleman, here; who is drawn hither by report of your cartels, advanced in court, to prove his fortune with your prizer, so he may have fair play shown him, and the liberty to choose his stickler.  AMOR. 
Is he a Master?  CRIT. 
That, sir, he has to show here; and, confirmed under the hands of the most skilful, and cunning complementaries alive: please you read, sir.  AMOR. 
What shall we do?  ANAI. 
Death, disgrace this fellow i' the black-stuff, whatever you do.  AMOR. 
Why, but he comes with the stranger.  HEDO. 
That's no matter. He is our own countryman.  ANA. 
ay, and he is a scholar besides. You may disgrace him here, with authority.  AMO. 
Well, see these first.  ASO. 
Now shall I be observed by yond scholar, till I sweat again; I would to JOVE, it were over.  CRI. 
Sir, this is the wight of worth, that dares you to the encounter. A gentleman of so pleasing, and ridiculous a carriage; as, even standing, carries meat in the mouth, you see; and I assure you, although no bred courtling, yet a most particular man, of goodly havings, well fashioned haviour, and of as hardened, and excellent a bark, as the most naturally-qualified amongst them, informed, reformed, and transformed, from his original criticism, by this elixir, or mere magazine of man. And, for your spectators, you behold them, what they are: The most choice particulars in court: This tells tales well; This provides coaches; This repeats jests; This presents gifts; This holds up the arras; This takes down from horse; This protests by this light; This swears by that candle; This delighteth; This adoreth. Yet, all but three men. Then for your ladies, the most proud witty creatures, all things apprehending, nothing understanding, perpetually laughing, curious maintainers of fools, mercers, and minstrels, costly to be kept, miserably keeping, all disdaining, but their painter, and pothecary, twixt whom and them there is this reciproque commerce, their beauties maintain their painters, and their painters their beauties.  MER. 
Sir, you have played the painter yourself, and limbed them to the life. I desire to deserve before 'em.  AMO. 
This is authentic. Having read the certificate. we must resolve to entertain the Monsieur, howsoever we neglect him.  HED. 
Come, let's all go together, and salute him.  ANA. 
Content, and not look o' the other.  AMO. 
Well devised: and a most punishing disgrace.  HED. 
On.  AMO. 
Monsieur. We must not so much betray ourselves to discourtship, as to suffer you to be longer unsaluted: Please you to use the state, ordained for the opponent; in which nature, without envy we receive you.  HED. 
And embrace you.  ANA. 
And commend us to you, sir.  PHI. 
Believe it, he is a man of excellent silence.  PHA. 
He keeps all his wit for action.  ANA. 
This hath discountenanced our scholaris, most richly.  HED. 
Out of all emphasis. The Monsieur sees, we regard him not.  AMO. 
Hold on: make it known how bitter a thing it is, not to be looked on in court.  HED. 
'sblood, will he call him to him yet? does not Monsieur perceive our disgrace?  ANA. 
Heart! he is a fool, I see. we have done ourselves wrong to grace him.  HED. 
'Slight, what an ass was I, to embrace him?  CRI. 
illustrious, and fearful judges—  HED. 
Turn away, turn away.  CRI. 
It is the suit of the strange opponent (to whom you ought not to turn your tails, and whose noses I must follow) that he may have the justice, before he encounter his respected adversary, to see some light stroke of his play, commenced with some other.  HED. 
Answer not him, but the stranger, we will not believe him.  AMO. 
I will demand him myself.  CRI. 
O dreadful disgrace, if a man were so foolish to feel it!  AMO. 
Is it your suit, Monsieur, to see some prelude of my scholar? Now, sure the Monsieur wants language.  HED. 
And take upon him to be one of the accomplished? 'Slight, that's a goodiest: would we could take him with that nullity. Non sapette voi parlar' Italiano?  ANA. 
'Sfoot, the carp has no tongue.  CRI. 
signor, in courtship, you are to bid your abettors forbear, and satisfy the Monsieurs request.  AMO. 
Well, I will strike him more silent, with admiration, and terrify his daring hither. He shall behold my own play, with my scholar. Lady, with the touch of your white hand, let me reinstate you. Provost, begin to me, A charge. at the bare Accost. Now, for the honour of my discipline.  HED. 
signor AMORPHUS, reflect, reflect: what means he by that mouthed wave?  CRI. 
He is in some distaste of your fellow disciple.  MER. 
signor, your scholar might have played well still, if he could have kept his fear longer: I have enough of him, now. He is a mere piece of glass, I see through him, by this time.  AMO. 
You come not to give us the scorn, Monsieur?  MER. 
Nor to be frighted with a face. signor! I have seen the lions. You must pardon me. I shall be loath to hazard a reputation with one, that has not a reputation to lose.  AMO. 
How!  CRI. 
Meaning your pupil, sir.  ANA. 
This is that black devil there.  AMO. 
You do offer a strange affront, Monsieur.  CRI. 
Sir, he shall yield you all the honour of a competent adversary, if you please to undertake him—  MER. 
I am priest for the encounter.  AMO. 
Me? challenge me?  ASO. 
What! my Master, sir? 'Slight, Monsieur, meddle with me, do you hear? but do not meddle with my Master.  MER. 
Peace, good squib, go out.  CRI. 
And stink, he bids you.  ASO. 
Master?  AMO. 
Silence, I do accept him. Sit you down, and observe. Me? He never professed a thing at more charges. Prepare yourself, sir. Challenge me? I will prosecute what disgrace my hatred can dictate to me.  CRI. 
How tender a travailers spleen is? comparison, to men, that deserve least, is ever most offensive.  AMO. 
You are instructed in our chartel, and know our weapons?  MER. 
I appear not without their notice, sir.  ASO. 
But must I lose the prizes, Master?  AMO. 
I will win them for you, be patient. Lady, vouchsafe the tenure of this ensign. Who shall be your stickler?  MER. 
Behold him.  AMO. 
I would not wish you a weaker. Sound musics. I provoke you, at the bare Accost.  PHA. 
Excellent comely! A charge.  CRI. 
And worthily studied. This is th' exalted Foretop.  HED. 
O, his leg was too much produced.  ANA. 
And his hat was carried skiruily.  PHI. 
Peace; Let's see the monsieurs Accost: Rare!  PHA. 
Sprightly, and short.  ANA. 
True, it is the french curteau: He lacks but to have his nose slit.  HED. 
He does hop. A flourish. He does bound too much.  AMO. 
The second bout, A charge. to conclude this weapon.  PHA. 
Good, believe it!  PHI. 
An excellent offer!  CRI. 
This is called the solemn bandstring.  HED. 
Foe, that cringe was not put home.  ANA. 
'Sfoot, he makes a face like a stabbed LUCRECE.  ASO. 
Well, he would needs take it upon him, but would I had done it for all this. He makes me sit still here, like a baboon as I am.  CRI. 
Making villainous faces.  PHI. 
See, the French prepares it richly.  CRI. 
ay, this is yclept the serious trifle.  ANA. 
'sblood, 'tis the horse-start out o' the brown study.  CRI. 
Rather the bird-eyed stroke, A flourish. sir. Your observance is too blunt, sir.  AMO. 
judges, award the prize. Take breath, sir. This bout hath been laborious.  ASO. 
And yet your Critic, or your Besso'gno, will think these things foppery, and easy, now.  CRI. 
Or rather mere lunacy. For, would any reasonable creature make these his serious studies, and perfections? Much less, only live to these ends? to be the false pleasure of a few, the true love of none, and the just laughter of all?  HED. 
We must prefer the Monsieur, we courtiers must be partial.  ANA. 
Speak, Guardian. Name the prize, at the bare Accost.  MOR. 
A pair of wall-eyes, in a face forced.  ANA. 
Give the Monsieur. AMORPHUS hath lost his eyes.  AMO. 
I! is the palate of your judgement down? Gentles, I do appeal.  ASO. 
Yes master, to me. The judges be fools.  ANA. 
How now, sir? Tie up your tongue, Mongrel. He cannot appeal.  ASO. 
Say you, sir?  ANA. 
Sir you still, sir.  ASO. 
Why, so I do. Do not I, I pray you?  MER. 
Remercy, Madame, and these honourable Censors.  AMO. 
Well, to the second weapon, The better regard: I will encounter you better. Attempt.  HED. 
Sweet Honour.  PHI. 
What says my good Ambition?  HED. 
Which take you at this next weapon? I lay a discretion, with you, on AMORPHUS head.  PHI. 
Why, I take the french-behaved gentleman.  HED. 
'Tis done, a discretion.  CRI. 
A discretion? A pretty court-wager! would any discreet person hazard his wit, so?  PHA. 
I'll lay a discretion, with you, ANAIDES.  ANA. 
Hang 'em. I'll not venture a doit of discretion, on either of their heads.—  CRI. 
No, he should venture all then.  ANA. 
I like none of their plays.  HED. 
A charge. See, see, this is strange play!  ANA. 
'Tis too full of uncertain motion. He hobbles too much.  CRI. 
'Tis called your court-staggers, sir.  HED. 
That same fellow talks so, now he has a place.  ANA. 
Hang him, neglect him.  MER. 
Your good ladyships affectioned.  WIF 
God's so! they speak at this weapon, brother!  ASO. 
They must do so, sister, how should it be the better regard, else?  PHA. 
methinks, he did not this respectively enough.  PHI. 
Why, the Monsieur but dallies with him.  HED. 
Dallies? 'slight see, he'll put him too't, in earnest. Well done, AMORPHUS.  ANA. 
That puff was good indeed.  CRI. 
God's me! This is desperate play. He hits himself o'the shins.  HED. 
And he make this good through, he carries it, I warrant him.  CRI. 
Indeed he displays his feet, rarely.  HED. 
See, see; He does the respective leer damnably well.  AMO. 
The true idolater of your beauties, shall never pass their deities unadored: I rest your poor knight.  HED. 
See, now the oblique leer, or the janus: He satisfies all, with that aspect, most nobly.  CRI. 
And most terribly he comes off: A flourish. like your Rodomantada.  PHA. 
How like you this play, ANAIDES?  ANA. 
Good play; but 't is too rough, and boisterous.  AMO. 
I will second it with a stroke easier, wherein I will prove his language.  ANA. 
This is filthy, A charge. and grave, now.  HED. 
O, 't is cool, and wary play. we must not disgrace our own comrade, too much.  AMO. 
Signora, ho tanto obligo per pefavore rescinto da lei; che verament dessidero con totto ill core, à remuneraria in part: & sicurative signior a mea cara, chè infera sempre pronto à servirla, & honorarla. Bascio le mane de vo' signoria.  CRI. 
The venetian Dop this.  PHA. 
Most unexpectedly excellent! The French goes down certain.  ASO. 
As buckets are put down into a well;  
Or as a schoolboy.—  CRI. 
truss up your simile, jackdaw, and observe.  HED. 
Now the Monsieur is moved.  ANA. 
Bo-Peep.  HED. 
O, most antic.  CRI. 
The french Quirk, this sir.  ANA. 
Heart, he will overrun her!  MER. 
Madamoyselle, je voudroy que pouvoy monstrer mon affection, mais je suis tant mal heureuse, ci froid, ci laid, ci— je ne scay qui di dire— excuse moy, je suis tout vostre. A flourish.  PHI. 
O brave, and spirited! he's a right jovialist.  PHI. 
No, no: AMORPHUS gravity outweighs it.  CRI. 
And yet your lady, or your feather would outweigh both.  ANA. 
What's the prize, lady, at this better regard?  MOR. 
A Face favourably simpering, and a fan waving.  ANA. 
They have done doubtfully. Divide. Give the favourable Face to the signor, and the light wave to the Monsieur.  AMO. 
You become the simper, well, lady.  MER. 
And the wag, better.  AMO. 
Now, to our solemn Address. Please the well-graced PHILAUTIA to relieve the lady sentinel; she hath stood long.  PHI. 
With all my heart, come, Guardian. Resign your place.  AMO. 
Monsieur, furnish yourself with what solemnity of ornament you think fit for this third weapon; at which you are to show all the cunning of stroke, your devotion can possibly devise.  MER. 
Let me alone, sir. I'll sufficiently decipher your amorous solemnities. CRITES, have patience. See, if I hit not all their practic observance, with which they lime twigs, to catch their fantastic ladybirds.  CRI. 
ay, but you should do more charitably, to do it more openly; that they might discover themselves mocked in these monstrous affections.  MER. 
A charge. lackey, where's the tailor?  TAY. 
Here, sir.  HED. 
See, they have their tailor, Barber, Perfumer, milliner, jeweller, Feather-maker, all in common!  ANA. 
ay, this is pretty.  AMO. 
They make themselves ready on the stage. Here is a hair too much, take it off. Where are thy mullets?  MER. 
Is this pink of equal proportion to this cut, standing of this distance from it?  TAY. 
That it is, sir.  MER. 
Is it so, sir, you impudent Poltroon? you slave, you list, you shreds, you.—  HED. 
Excellent. This was the best, yet.  ANA. 
'Sfoot, we must use our tailors thus. This is your true magnanimity.  MER. 
Come, go to: put on. we must bear with you, for the Time's sake.  AMO. 
Is the perfume rich, in this jerkin?  PER. 
Taste, smell; I assure you sir, pure benjamin, the only spirited scent, that ever awaked a Neapolitan nostril. You would wish yourself all nose, for the love on't. I frotted a jerkin, for a new-revenued gentleman, yielded me threescore crowns, but this morning, and the same titillation.  AMO. 
I savour no sampsuchine, in it.  PER. 
I am a Nullifidian, if there be not three thirds of a scruple more of sampsuchinum, in this confection, then ever I put in any. I'll tell you all the ingredients, sir.  AMO. 
You shall be simple, to discover your simples.  PER. 
Simple? why sir? what reck I to whom I discover? I have in it, musk, civet, amber, pheenicobalanus, the decoction of turmeric, sesame, nard, spikenard, calamus odoratus, stacte, opobalsamum, amomum, storax, laudanum, aspalathum, opponax, oenanthe. And what of all these now? what are you the better? Tut, it is the sorting, and the dividing, and the mixing, and the tempering, and the searcing, and the decocting, that makes the fumigation, and the suffumigation.  AMO. 
Well, endue me with it.  PER. 
I will, sir.  HED. 
An excellent confection.  CRI. 
And most worthy a true voluntary. JOVE! what a coil these musk-worms take, to purchase another's delight? for, themselves, who bear the odours, have ever the least sense of them. Yet, I do like better the prodigality of jewels, and clothes, whereof one passeth to a man's heirs; the other, at least wears out time: This presently expires, and without continual riot in reparation is lost: which who so strives to keep, it is one special argument to me, that (affecting to smell better than other men) he doth indeed smell far worse.  MER. 
I know, you will say it sits well, sir.  TAY. 
Good faith, if it do not, sir, let your Mistress be judge.  MER. 
By heaven, if my Mistress do not like it, I'll make no more conscience to undo thee, than to undo an oyster.  TAY. 
Believe it, sir, there's ne'er a Mistress i' the world can mislike it.  MER. 
No, not goodwife Taylor, your Mistress; that has only the judgement to heat your pressing tool. But for a court-mistress, that studies these decorums, and knows the proportion of every cut, to a hair, knows why such a colour, is cut upon such a colour, and, when a satin is cut upon six taffetas, will look that we should dive into the depth of the cut.— Give me my scarf. Show some ribbons, sirrah. ha' you the feather?  FET. 
ay, sir.  MER. 
Ha' you the jewel?  IEW. 
Yes, sir.  MER. 
What must I give for the hire on't?  IEW. 
You'll give me six crowns, sir?  MER. 
six crowns? By heaven 'twere a good deed to borrow it of thee, to show: and never let thee have it again.  IEW. 
I hope your worship will not do so, sir.  MER. 
By JOVE, sir, there be such tricks stirring, I can tell you, and worthily too. Extorting knaves! that live by these Court-decorums, and yet,— What's your jewel worth, I pray?  IEW. 
A hundred crowns, sir.  MER. 
A hundred crowns? And six for the loan on't an hour? What's that? the hundred for the year? These impostors would not be hanged? your thief is not comparable to 'em, by HERCULES, well, put it in, and the feather. You will ha''t, and you shall; and the pox give you good on't.  AMO. 
Give me my confects, my moscardini, and place those colours in my hat.  MER. 
These are bolognian ribbons, I warrant you?  MIL. 
In truth, sir: if they be not right granado silk—  MER. 
A pox on you, you'll all say so.  MIL. 
You give me not a penny, sir.  MER. 
Come sir, perfume my devant; May it ascend, like solemn sacrifice, into the nostrils of the Queen of Love.  HED. 
Your french ceremonies are the best:  ANA. 
Monsieur, signor, your solemn Address is too long. The ladies long to have you come on.  AMO. 
Soft, sir, our coming on is not so easily prepared. signor Fig.  PER. 
ay, sir.  AMO. 
Can you help my complexion, here?  PER. 
O yes, sir, I have an excellent mineral Fucus, for the purpose. The gloves are right, sir, you shall bury 'em in a muckhill, a draft, seven years, and take 'em out, and wash 'em, they shall still retain their first sent, true spanish. There's ambre i'the umber.  MER. 
Your price, sweet Fig.  PER. 
Give me what you will, sir: The signor pays me two crowns a pair, you shall give me your love, sir.  MER. 
My love? with a pox to you, goodman sassafras.  PER. 
I come, sir. There's an excellent diapasm in a chain too, if you like it.  AMO. 
Stay, what are the ingredients to your fucus?  PER 
Nought, but sublimate, and crude mercury, sir, well prepared, and dulcified, with the jaw-bones of a sow, burnt, beaten, and seared.  AMO. 
I approve it. Lay it on.  MER 
I'll have your chain of pomander, sirrah; what's your price?  PER. 
we'll agree, Monsieur; I'll assure you, it was both decocted, and dried, where no sun came, and kept in an onyx ever since it was balled.  MER. 
Come, invert my mustachio, and we have done.  AMO. 
'Tis good.  BAR. 
Hold still I pray you, sir.  PER. 
Nay, the fucus is exorbitant, sir.  MER. 
Death! dost thou burn me, Harlot?  BAR. 
I beseech you, sir.  MER. 
A flourish. Beggar, Varlet, Poltroon?  HED. 
Excellent, excellent!  ANA. 
Your french Beat is the most natural beat of the world.  ASO. 
O, that I had played at this weapon!  PHA. 
A charge. Peace, now they come on; the second part.  AMO. 
Madame, your beauties, being so attractive, I muse you are left thus, alone.  PHI. 
Better be alone, sir; then ill-accompanied.  AMO. 
Nought can be ill, lady, that can come near your goodness.  MER. 
Sweet Madame, on what part of you soever a man casts his eye, he meets with perfection; you are the lively image of VENUS, throughout; all the GRACES smile in your cheeks; your beauty nourishes, as well as delights; you have a tongue steeped in honey; and a breath like a panther: your breasts and forehead are whiter than goats milk, or May-blossoms; a cloud is not so soft as your skin.—  HED. 
Well struck, Monsieur: He charges like a Frenchman indeed, thick, and hotly.  MER. 
Your cheeks are Cupid's baths, wherein he uses to steep himself in milk, and nectar: He does light all his torches at your eyes, and instructs you how to shoot, and wound, with their beams. Yet I love nothing, in you, more than your innocence; you retain so native a simplicity, so unblamed a behaviour. methinks, with such a love, I should find no head, nor foot of my pleasure: You are the very spirit of a lady.  ANA. 
Fair play, Monsieur? you are too hot on the quarry. Give your competitor audience.  AMO. 
Lady, how stirring soever the Monsieurs tongue is, he will lie by your side, more dull than your eunuch.  ANA. 
A good stroke; That mouth was excellently put over.  AMO. 
You are fair, lady—  CRI. 
You offer foul, signor, to close. Keep your distance; for all your Bravo rampant, here.  AMO. 
I say you are fair, lady, let your choice be fit, as you are fair.  MER. 
I say, ladies do never believe they are fair, till some fool begins to dote upon 'em.  PHI. 
You play too rough, gentlemen.  AMO. 
Your frenchified fool is your only fool, lady: I do yield to this honourable Monsieur, in all civil, and human courtesy.  MER. 
Buzz. A flourish.  ANA. 
Admirable. Give him the prize. Give him the prize; That mouth, again, was most courtly hit, and rare.  AMO. 
I knew, I should pass upon him with the bitter Bob.  HED. 
O, but the Reverse was singular.  PHA. 
It was most subtle, AMORPHUS.  ASO. 
If I had done't, it should have been better.  MER. 
How heartily they applaud this, CRITES!  CRI. 
You suffer 'em too long  MER. 
I'll take off their edge instantly.  ANA. 
Name the prize, at the solemn Address.  PHI. 
Two lips wagging.  CRI. 
And never a wise word; I take it.  ANA. 
Give to AMORPHUS. And, upon him, again; let him not draw free breath.  AMO. 
Thanks, fair deliverer, and my honourable judges, Madame PHANTASTE, you are our worthy object at this next weapon.  PHA. 
Most covetingly ready, AMORPHUS.  HED. 
Your Monsieur is crest-fallen.  ANA. 
So are most of 'em once a year.  AMO. 
You will see, I shall now give him the gentle dor, presently, he forgetting to shift the colours, which are now changed, with alteration of the Mistress. At your last weapon, sir. The perfect Close. Set forward, intend your approach. A charge. Monsieur.  MER. 
'Tis yours, signor.  AMO. 
With your example, sir.  MER. 
Not I, sir.  AMO. 
It is your right.  MER. 
By no possible means.  AMO. 
You have the way.  MER. 
As I am noble—  AMO. 
As I am virtuous—  MER. 
Pardon me, sir.  AMO. 
I will die first.  MER. 
You are a tyrant in courtesy.  AMO. 
He is removed— judges bear witness.  MER. 
Amorphus stays the other, in his moving. What of that, sir?  AMO. 
You are removed, sir.  MER. 
Well.  AMO. 
I challenge you; you have received the dor. Give me the prize.  MER. 
Soft, sir. How, the dor?  AMO. 
The common Mistress, you see, is changed.  MER. 
Right, sir.  AMO. 
And you have still in your hat the former colours.  MER. 
You lie, sir, I have none: I have pulled 'em out. I meant to play discoloured.  CRI. 
The dor, the dor, the dor, the dor, the dor! the palpable dor.  ANA. 
A flourish. Heart of my blood. AMORPHUS, what ha' you done? Stuck a disgrace upon us all, and at your last weapon?  ASO. 
I could have done no more.  HED. 
By heaven, it was most unfortunate luck.  ANA. 
Luck! by that candle, it was mere rashness, and oversight, would any man have ventured to play so open, and forsake his ward? Damn me if he ha' not eternally undone himself, in court; and discountenanced us, that were his main countenance, by it.  AMO. 
Forgive it, now. It was the soloecism of my stars.  CRI. 
The Wring by the hand, and the Banquet is ours.  MER. 
O, here's a lady, feels like a wench of the first year; you would think her hand did melt in your touch; and the bones of her fingers ran out at length, when you priest 'em, they are so gently delicate! He that had the grace to print a kiss on these lips, should taste wine, & rose-leaves. O, she kisses as close as a cockle. Let's take 'em down, as deep as our hearts, wench, till our very souls mix. Adieu, signor. Good faith, I shall drink to you at supper, sir.  ANA. 
Stay, Monsieur. Who awards you the prize?  CRI. 
Why, his proper merit, sir: you see he has played down your grand garb-master, here.  ANA. 
That's not in your logic to determine, sir: you are no courtier. This is none of your seven, or nine beggarly sciences, but a certain mystery above 'em, wherein we that have skill must pronounce, and not such freshmen as you are.  CRI. 
Indeed, I must declare myself to you no professed courtling; nor to have any excellent stroke, at your subtle weapons: yet if you please, I dare venture a hit with you, or your fellow, sir DAGONET, here.  ANA. 
With me?  CRI. 
Yes, sir.  ANA. 
Heart, I shall never have such a fortune to save myself in a fellow again, and your two reputations, gentlemen, as in this. I'll undertake him.  HED. 
Do, and swinge him soundly, good ANAIDES.  ANA. 
Let me alone, I'll play other manner of play, then has been seen, yet. I would the prize lay on't.  MER. 
It shall if you will, I forgive my right.  ANA. 
Are you so confident? what's your weapon?  CRI. 
At any, ay, sir.  MER. 
The perfect Close, That's now the best.  ANA. 
Content, I'll pay your scholarity. Who offers?  CRI. 
marry, that will I. I dare give you that advantage, too.  ANA. 
You dare? Well, look to your liberal sconce.  AMO. 
Make your play still, upon the answer, sir.  ANA. 
Hold your peace, you are a hobby-horse.  ASO. 
Sit by me, Master.  MER. 
Now CRITES, strike home.  CRI. 
You shall see me undo the assured swaggerer with a trick, instantly: I will play all his own play before him; court the wench, in his garb, in his phrase, with his face; leave him not so much as a look, an eye, a stalk, or an imperfect oath, to express himself by, after me.  MER. 
Excellent, CRITES.  ANA. 
When begin you, A charge. sir? Have you consulted?  CRI. 
To your cost, sir; which is the Piece, stands forth to be courted? O, are you she? Well, Madame, or sweet lady, it is so, I do love you in some sort, do you conceive? and though I am no Monsieur, nor no signor, and do want (as they say) logic and sophistry, and good words, to tell you why it is so; yet by this hand, and by that candle, it is so; And though I be no bookworm, nor one that deals by art, to give you rhetoric, and causes, why it should be so, or make it good it is so, yet dam me, but I know it is so, and am assured it is so, and I and my sword shall make it appear it is so; and give you reason sufficient, how it can be no otherwise, but so—  HED. 
'Slight, ANAIDES, you are mocked; and so we are all.  MER. 
How now, signor! What, suffer yourself to be cozened of your courtship, before your face?  HED. 
This is plain confederacy, to disgrace us: Let's be gone, and plot some revenge.  AMO. 
When men disgraces share,  
The lesser is the care.  CRI. 
Nay stay, my dear Ambition, I can do you over too. You that tell your Mistress, Her beauty is all composed of theft; Her hair stole from APOLLO's goldy-locks; Her white and red, lilies, and roses stolen out of paradise; Her eyes, two stars, plucked from the sky; Her nose, the gnomon of loves dial, that tells you how the clock of your heart goes: And for her other parts, as you cannot reckon 'em, they are so many; so you cannot recount them, they are so manifest. Yours, if his own, unfortunate HOYDEN, A flourish. in stead of HEDON.  ASO. 
Sister, come away, I cannot endure 'em longer.  MER. 
Go, Dors, and you, my Madame Courting-stocks,  
Follow your scorned, and derided mates;  
Tell to your guilty breasts, what mere guilt blocks  
You are, and how unworthy human states.  CRI. 
Now, sacred god of wit, if you can make  
Those, whom our sports tax in these apish graces,  
Kiss (like the fighting snakes) your peaceful rod;  
These times shall canonize you for a god.  MER. 
Why, CRITES, think you any noble spirit,  
Or any, worth the title of a man,  
Will be incensed, to see th'enchanted veils  
Of self-conceit, and servile flattery  
(Wrapped in so many folds, by time, and custom)  
Drawn from his wronged, and bewitched eyes?  
Who sees not now their shape, and nakedness,  
Is blinder than the son of earth, the mole:  
Crowned with no more humanity, nor soul.  CRI. 
Though they may see it, yet the huge estate  
Fancy, and form, and sensual pride have gotten,  
Will make them blush for anger, not for shame;  
And turn shown nakedness, to impudence.  
Humour is now the test, we try things in;  
All power is just: Nought that delights is sin.  
And, yet the zeal of every knowing man,  
(Oppressed with hills of tyranny, cast on virtue  
By the light fantasies of fools, thus transported)  
Cannot but vent the Aetna of his fires,  
T'inflame best bosoms, with much worthier love  
Then of these outward, and effeminate shades:  
That, these vain joys, in which their wills consume  
Such powers of wit, and soul, as are of force  
To raise their beings to eternity,  
May be converted on works, fitting men.  
And, for the practice of a forced look,  
An antic gesture, or a fustian phrase,  
Study the native frame of a true heart,  
An inward comeliness of bounty, knowledge,  
And spirit, that may conform them, actually,  
To God's high figures, which they have in power:  
Which to neglect for a self-loving neatness,  
Is sacrilege, of an unpardoned greatness.  MER. 
Then let the truth of these things strengthen thee,  
In thy exempt, and only manlike course:  
Like it the more, the less it is respected;  
Though men fail, virtue is by gods protected.  
See, here comes ARETE, I'll withdraw myself.   

Act V. Scene V.  ARETE, CRITES. 
CRITES, you must provide straight for a mask,  
'Tis Cynthia's pleasure.  CRI. 
How, bright ARETE!  
Why, 'twere a labour more for HERCULES.  
Better, and sooner durst I undertake  
To make the different seasons of the year,  
The winds, or elements to sympathize,  
Than their unmeasurable vanity  
Dance truly in a measure. They agree?  
What though all concord's borne of contraries?  
So many follies will confusion prove,  
And like a sort of jarring instruments,  
All out of time: because (indeed) we see  
There is not that analogy, twixt discords,  
As between things but merely opposite.  ARE. 
There is your error. For as HERMES wand  
Charms the disorders of tumultuous ghosts,  
And as the strife of Chaos then did cease,  
When better light than Natures did arrive:  
So, what could never in itself agree,  
Forgetteth the eccentric property,  
And at her sight, turns forthwith regular,  
Whose sceptre guides the flowing Ocean.  
And though it did not, yet the most of them  
(Being either courtiers, or not wholly rude)  
Respect of majesty, the place, and presence,  
Will keep them within ring; especially  
When they are not presented as themselves,  
But masked like others. For (in troth) not so  
T'incorporate them, could be nothing else,  
Then like a state ungoverned without laws;  
Or body made of nothing but diseases:  
The one, through impotency poor, and wretched,  
The other, for the anarchy absurd.  CRI. 
But, lady, for the revellers themselves,  
It would be better (in my poor conceit)  
That other's were employed: for such as are  
Unfit to be in Cynthia's court, can seem  
No less unfit to be in Cynthia's sports.  ARE. 
That, CRITES, is not purposed without  
Particular knowledge of the Goddess mind,  
(Who holding true intelligence, what follies  
Had crept into her palace) she resolved,  
Of sports, and triumphs, under that pretext,  
To have them muster in their pomp, and fullness:  
That so she might more strictly, and to root,  
Effect the reformation she intends.  CRI. 
I now conceive her heavenly drift in all,  
And will apply my spirits, to serve her will.  
O thou, the very power, by which I am,  
And but for which, it were in vain to be,  
Chief next DIANA, virgin, heavenly fair,  
Admired ARETE (of them admired,  
Whose souls are not enkindled by the sense)  
Disdain not my chaste fire, but feed the flame  
Devoted truly to thy gracious name.  ARE. 
Leave to suspect us: CRITES well shall find,  
As we are now most dear, we'll prove most kind.  
Hark, I am called.  CRI. 
I follow instantly.  
PHOEBUS APOLLO: if with ancient rites,  
And due devotions, I have ever hung  
Elaborate paeans, on thy golden shrine,  
Or sung thy triumphs in a lofty strain,  
Fit for a theater of gods to hear;  
And thou, the other son of mighty JOVE,  
Cyllenian MERCURY (sweet Maia's joy)  
If in the busy tumults of the mind,  
My path thou ever hast illumined,  
For which, thine altars I have oft perfumed,  
And decked thy statues with discoloured flowers:  
Now thrive invention in this glorious court,  
That not of bounty only, but of right,  
CYNTHIA may grace, and give it life by sight.   

Act V. Scene VI.  HESPERUS, CYNTHIA, ARETE, time, PHRONESIS, THAUMA. The Hymn. 
queen, and Huntress, chaste, and fair,  
Now the Sun is laid to sleep,  
Seated, in thy silver chair,  
State in wonted manner keep:  
HESPERUS entreats thy light,  
Goddess, excellently bright.  
Earth, let not thy envious shade  
Dare itself to interpose;  
Cynthia's shining orb was made  
Heaven to clear, when day did close:  
Bless us then with wished sight,  
Goddess, excellently bright.  
Lay thy bow of pearl apart,  
And thy crystal-shining quiver;  
Give unto the flying heart  
Space to breath, how short soever:  
Thou that mak'st a day of night,  
Goddess, excellently bright.  CYN. 
When hath DIANA, like an envious wretch,  
That glitters only to his soothed self,  
Denying to the world, the precious use  
Of hoardward wealth, withheld her friendly aid?  
Monthly, we spend our still-repaired shine,  
And not forbid our virgin-waxen torch  
To burn, and blaze, while nutriment doth last:  
That once consumed, out of joves treasury  
A new we take, and stick it in our sphere,  
To give the mutinous kind of wanting men,  
Their looked— for light. Yet, what is their desert?  
" Bounty is wronged, interpreted as due;  
" Mortals can challenge not a ray, by right,  
" Yet do expect the whole of Cynthia's light.  
But if that Deities withdrew their gifts,  
For human follies, what could men deserve  
But death, and darkness? It behooves the high,  
For their own sakes, to do things worthily.  ARE. 
Most true, most sacred Goddess; for the heavens  
Receive no good of all the good they do.  
Nor JOVE, nor you, nor other heavenly power,  
Are fed with fumes, which do from incense rise,  
Or sacrifices reeking in their gore,  
Yet, for the care which you of mortals have,  
(Whose proper good it is, that they be so)  
You well are pleased with odours redolent:  
But ignorant is all the race of men,  
Which still complains, not knowing why, or when.  CYN. 
Else, noble ARETE, they would not blame,  
And tax, for or unjust, or for as proud,  
Thy CYNTHIA, in the things which are indeed  
The greatest glories in our starry crown;  
Such is our chastity: which safely scorns  
(Not Love; for who more fervently doth love  
Immortal honour, and divine renown?  
But) giddy CUPID, Venus' frantic son.  
Yet ARETE, if by this veiled light,  
we but discovered (what we not discern)  
Any the least of imputations stand  
Ready to sprinkle our unspotted fame,  
With note of lightness, from these revels near:  
Not, for the empire of the universe,  
Should night, or court, this whatsoever shine,  
Or grace of ours unhappily enjoy.  
" Place, and occasion are two privy thieves;  
" And from poor innocent ladies often steal  
" (The best of things) an honourable name:  
" To stay with follies, or where faults may be,  
" Infers a crime, although the party free.  ARE. 
How Cynthian-ly (that is, how worthily  
And like herself) the matchless CYNTHIA speaks!  
Infinite jealousies, infinite regards,  
Do watch about the true virginity:  
But PHoeBE lives from all, not only fault,  
But as from thought, so from suspicion free.  
" Thy presence broadseals our delights for pure,  
" What's done in Cynthia's sight, is done secure.  CYN. 
That then so answered (dearest ARETE)  
What th' argument or of what sort our sports  
Are like to be this night, I not demand.  
Nothing which duty, and desire to please  
Bears written in the forehead, comes amiss.  
But unto whose invention, must we owe,  
The complement of this night's furniture?  ARE. 
Excellent Goddess, to a man's, whose worth,  
(Without hyperbole,) I thus may praise;  
One (at least) studious of deserving well,  
And (to speak truth) indeed deserving well:  
" Potential merit stands for actual,  
" Where only opportunity doth want,  
" Not will, nor power: both which in him abound.  
One, whom the MUSES, and MINERVA love.  
For whom should they, than CRITES, more esteem,  
Whom PHOEBUS (though not Fortune) holdeth dear?  
And (which convinceth excellence in him,)  
A principal admirer of yourself.  
even, through th' ungentle injuries of fate,  
And difficulties, which do virtue choke,  
Thus much of him appears. What other things  
Of farther note, do lie unborn in him,  
Them I do leave for cherishment to show,  
And for a Goddess graciously to judge.  CYN. 
We have already judged him, ARETE:  
Nor are we ignorant, how noble minds  
Suffer too much through those indignities,  
Which times, and vicious persons cast on them:  
ourself have ever vowed to esteem,  
(As virtue, for itself, so) fortune base;  
Who's first in worth, the same be first in place.  
Nor farther notice (ARETE) we crave  
Then thine approvals sovereign warranty:  
Let be thy care, to make us known to him,  
" CYNTHIA shall brighten, what the world made dim.   

Act V. Scene VII. The first mask.  CUPID, To them. like ANTEROS. 
Clear pearl of heaven, and, not to be farther ambitious in titles, CYNTHIA. The fame of this illustrious night, among others, hath also drawn these four fair virgins from the palace of their Queen Perfection (a word, which makes no sufficient difference, twixt hers, and thine) to visit thy imperial court: for she, their sovereign, not finding where to dwell among men, before her return to heaven, advised them wholly to consecrate themselves to thy celestial service, as in whose clear spirit (the proper element, and sphere of virtues) they should behold not her alone, (their ever honoured mistress) but themselves (more truly themselves) to live enthronized. herself would have commended them unto thy favour more particularly, but that she knows no commendation is more available with them, than that of proper virtue. Nevertheless, she willed them to present this crystal mound, a note of monarchy, and symbol of perfection, to thy more worthy deity; which, as here by me they most humbly do, so amongst the rarities thereof, that is the chief, to show whatsoever the world hath excellent, howsoever remote and various. But your irradiate judgement will soon discover the secrets of this little crystal world. Themselves (to appear more plainly) because they know nothing more odious, then false pretexts, have chosen to express their several qualities, thus, in several colours.  
The first, in citron colour, is natural Affection, which given us to procure our good, is sometime called STORGE, & as every one is nearest to himself, so this handmaid of reason, allowable self-love, as it is without harm, so are none without it: Her place in the court of Perfection was to quicken minds in the pursuit of honour. Her device is a perpendicular Level, upon a Cube, or Square. The word, SEE SVO MODULO. Alluding to that true measure of one's self, which as every one ought to make, so is it most conspicuous in thy divine example.  
The second, in green, is AGLAIA, delectable and pleasant Conversation, whose property is to move a kindly delight, and sometime not without laughter: Her office, to entertain assemblies, and keep societies together with fair familiarity. Her device within a Ring of clouds, a Heart with shine about it. The word, CURARUM NVEILA PELLO. An allegory of Cynthia's light, which no less clears the sky, than her fair mirth the heart.  
The third, in the discoloured mantle spangled all over, is EUPHANTASTE, a well conceited Wittiness, and employed in honouring the court with the riches of her pure invention. Her device, upon a Petasus, or Mercurial hat, a Crescent. The word, SIC LAUS INGENII. Inferring, that the praise and glory of wit, doth ever increase, as doth thy growing moon.  
The fourth in white, is APHELEIA, a Nymph as pure and simple as the soul, or as an abrase table, and is therefore called Simplicity, without folds, without plights, without colour, without counterfeit: and (to speak plainly) Plainness itself. Her device is no device. The word under her silver Shield, OMNIS ABEST FUCUS. Alluding to thy spotless self, who art as far from impurity, as from mortality.  
myself (celestial Goddess) more fit for the court of CYNTHIA, than the arbours of CYTHEREE, am called ANTEROS, or loves enemy; the more welcome therefore to thy court, and the fitter to conduct this quaternion, who as they are thy professed votaries, and for that cause adversaries to Love, yet thee (perpetual Virgin) they both love, and vow to love eternally.   

Act V. Scene VIII.  CYNTHIA, ARETE, CRITES. 
NOt without wonder, nor without delight,  
Mine eyes have viewed (in contemplations depth)  
This work of wit, divine, and excellent:  
What shape? what substance? or what unknown power  
In virgin's habit, crowned with laurel leaves,  
And olive branches woven in between,  
On sea-girt rocks, like to a Goddess shines?  
O front! O face! O all celestial sure,  
And more than mortal! ARETE, behold  
Another CYNTHIA, and another Queen,  
Whose glory (like a lasting plenilune)  
Seems ignorant of what it is to wane!  
Not under heaven an object could be found  
More fit to please. Let CRITES make approach.  
Bounty forbids to Paul our thanks with stay,  
Or to defer our favour, after view:  
" The time of grace is, when the cause is new.  ARE. 
Lo, here the man (celestial DELIA)  
Who (like a circle bounded in itself)  
Contains as much, as man in fullness may.  
Lo, here the man, who not of usual earth,  
But of that nobler, and more precious mould,  
Which PHOEBUS self doth temper, is composed;  
And, who (though all were wanting to reward)  
Yet, to himself he would not wanting be:  
Thy favours gain is his ambitions most,  
And labours best; who (humble in his height)  
Stands fixed silent in thy glorious sight.  CYN. 
With no less pleasure, than we have beheld  
This precious crystal, work of rarest wit,  
Our eye doth read thee (now enstiled) our CRITES;  
Whom learning, virtue, and our favour last,  
Exempteth from the gloomy multitude.  
" With common eye the supreme should not see.  
Henceforth be ours, the more thyself to be.  CRI. 
heavens purest light, whose orb may be eclipsed,  
But not thy praise (divinest CYNTHIA)  
How much too narrow for so high a grace,  
Thine (save therein) the most unworthy CRITES  
Doth find himself! for ever shine thy fame;  
Thine honours ever, as thy beauties do;  
In me they must, my dark world's chiefest lights,  
By whose propitious beams my powers are raised  
To hope some part of those most lofty points,  
Which blessed ARETE hath pleased to name,  
As marks, to which m'endeavours steps should bend:  
Mine, as begun at thee, in thee must end.   

Act V. Scene IX. The second mask.  mercury, as a PAGE. 
SIster of PHOEBUS, to whose bright orb we owe, that we not complain of his absence; These four brethren (for they are brethren, and sons of EUTAXIA, a lady known, and highly beloved of your resplendent deity) not able to be absent, when CYNTHIA held a solemnity, officiously insinuate themselves into thy presence: For, as there are four cardinal virtues, upon which the whole frame of the court doth move, so are these the four cardinal properties, without which, the body of complement moveth not. With these four silver javelins (which they bear in their hands) they support in Princes courts the state of the presence, as by office they are obliged; which, though here they may seem superfluous, yet, for honours sake, they thus presume to visit thee, having also been employed in the palace of Queen Perfection. And though to them, that would make themselves gracious to a Goddess, sacrifices were fitter than presents, or Impreses, yet they both hope thy favour; and (in place of either) use several Symbols, containing the titles of thy imperial dignity.  
First, the hithermost, in the changeable blue, and green rob, is the commendably-fashioned gallant, EUCOSMOS; whose courtly habit is the grace of the presence, and delight of the surveying eye: whom ladies understand by the names of neat, and elegant. His symbol is, DIVAE VIRGINI, in which he would express thy deities principal glory, which hath ever been virginity.  
The second, in the rich acoutrement, and rob of purple, impaled with gold, is EUPATHES; who entertains his mind with an harmless, but not incurious variety: All the objects of his senses are sumptuous, himself a gallant, that, without excess, can make use of superfluity: go richly in embroideries, jewels (and what not?) without vanity, and fare delicately without gluttony: and therefore not (not without cause) is universally thought to be of five humour. His Symbol is, DIVAE OPTIMAE. An attribute to express thy goodness, in which thou so resemblest JOVE thy father.  
The third, in the blush-coloured suit, is, EUTOLMOS, as duly respecting others, as never neglecting himself; commonly known by the title of good audacity: to courts, and courtly assemblies, a guest most acceptable. His Symbol is, DIVAE VIRAGINI. To express thy hardy courage, in chase of savage beasts, which harbour in woods, and wilderness.  
The fourth, in watchet tinsel, is the kind, and truly benific EUCOLOS. Who imparteth not without respect, but yet without difficulty; and hath the happiness to make every kindness seem double, by the timely, and freely bestowing thereof. He is the chief of them, who (by the vulgar) are said to be of good nature. His Symbol is, DIVAE MAXIMAE. An adjunct to signify thy greatness, which in heaven, earth, and hell is formidable.   

Act V. Scene X.  CUPID, The Masks join, and dance. mercury. 
IS not that AMORPHUS, the travailer?  MER. 
As though it were not! do you not see how his legs are in travail with a measure?  CVP. 
HEDON, thy master is next.  MER. 
What, will CUPID turn nomenclator, and cry them?  CVP. 
No faith, but I have a comedy toward, that would not be lost for a kingdom.  MER. 
In good time, for CUPID will prove the comedy.  CVP. 
MERCURY, I am studying how to match them.  MER. 
How to mismatch them were harder.  CVP. 
They are the Nymphs must do it, I shall sport myself with their passions above measure.  MER. 
Those Nymphs would be tamed a little indeed, but I fear thou hast not arrows for the purpose.  CVP. 
O, yes, here be of all sorts, flights, rovers, and butt-shafts. But I can wound with a brandish, and never draw bow for the matter.  MER. 
I cannot but believe it, my invisible archer, and yet methinks you are tedious.  CVP. 
It behoves me to be somewhat circumspect, MERCURY; for if CYNTHIA hear the twang of my bow, she'll go near to whip me with the string: therefore, to prevent that, I thus discharge a brandish upon— it makes no matter which of the couples. PHANTASTE, and AMORPHUS, at you.  MER. 
Will the shaking of a shaft strike 'em into such a fever of affection?  CVP. 
As well as the wink of an eye: but I pray thee, hinder me not with thy prattle.  MER. 
JOVE forbid I hinder thee. marry, all that I fear, is Cynthia's presence; which, with the cold of her chastity, casteth such an antiperistasis about the place, that no heat of thine will tarry with the patient.  CVP. 
It will tarry the rather, for the antiperistasis will keep it in.  MER. 
I long to see the experiment.  CVP. 
Why, their marrow boil already, or they are all turned eunuchs.  MER. 
Nay, and 't be so, I'll give over speaking, and be a spectator only. They have danced the first strain.  AMO. 
CYNTHIA (by my bright soul) is a right exquisite, and splendidious lady; yet AMORPHUS, I think, hath seen more fashions, I am sure more countries: but whether I have, or not, what need we gaze on CYNTHIA, that have ourself to admire?  PHA. 
O, excellent CYNTHIA! yet if PHANTASTE sat where she does, and had such a tire on her head (for attire can do much) I say no more— but goddesses are goddesses, and PHANTASTE is as she is! I would the revels were done once, I might go to my school of glass, again, and learn to do myself right after all this ruffling.  MER. 
How now, CUPID? here's a wonderful change with your brandish! do you not hear, how they dote?  CVP. 
What prodigy is this? no word of love? no mention? no motion?  MER. 
Not a word, my little Ignis fallen, not a word.  CVP. 
Are my darts enchanted? Is their vigour gone? is their virtue—  MER. 
What? CUPID turned jealous of himself? ha, ha, ha.  CVP. 
Laughs MERCURY?  MER. 
Is CUPID angry?  CVP. 
Hath he not cause, when his purpose is so deluded?  MOR. 
A rare comedy, it shall be entitled, Cupid's.  CVP. 
Do not scorn us, HERMES.  MER. 
Choler, and CUPID, are two fiery things; I scorn 'em not. But I see that come to pass, which I presaged in the beginning.  CVP. 
You cannot tell: perhaps the physic will not work so soon upon some, as upon others. It may be, the rest are not so resty.  MER. 
Ex ungue, you know the old adage, as these, so are the remainder.  CVP. 
I'll try: this is the same shaft, with which I wounded ARGURION.  MER. 
ay, but let me save you a labour, CUPID: there were certain bottles of water fetched, and drunk off (since that time) by these gallants.  CVP. 
JOVE, strike me into earth: The Fountain of self-love!  MER. 
Nay, faint not, CUPID.  CVP. 
I remembered it not.  MER. 
Faith, it was ominous to take the name of ANTEROS upon you, you know not what charm or enchantment lies in the word: you saw, I durst not venture upon any device, in our presentment, but was content to be no other than a simple page. Your arrows properties (to keep decorum) CUPID, are suited (it should seem) to the nature of him you personate.  CVP. 
Indignity not to be borne.  MER. 
Nay rather, an attempt to have been forborn.  CVP. 
How might I revenge myself on this insulting MERCURY! there's CRITES, The second strain. his minion, he has not tasted of this water. It shall be so. Is CRITES turned dotard on himself too?  MER. 
That follows not, because the venom of your shafts cannot pierce him, CUPID.  CVP. 
As though there were one antidote for these, and another for him?  MER. 
As though there were not! or as if one effect might not arise of divers causes? What say you to CYNTHIA, ARETE, PHRONESIS, TIME, and others there?  CVP. 
They are divine.  MER. 
And CRITES aspires to be so.  CVP. 
But that shall not serve him.  MER. 
'Tis like to do it, at this time. But CUPID is grown too covetous, that will not spare one of a multitude.  CVP. 
One is more than a multitude.  MER. 
Arete's favour makes any one shot-proof against thee, The third strain. CUPID. I pray thee, light honeybee, remember thou art not now in Adonis' garden, but in Cynthia's presence, where thorns lie in garrison about the roses. Soft, CYNTHIA speaks.   

Act V. Scene XI.  CYNTHIA, ARETE, CRITES, masquers. 
LAdies, and gallants of our court, to end,  
And give a timely period to our sports,  
Let us conclude them with declining night;  
Our empire is but of the darker half.  
And if you judge it any recompense  
For your fair pains, t' have earned Diana's thanks,  
DIANA grants them: and bestows their crown  
To gratify your acceptable zeal.  
For you are they, that not (as some have done)  
Do censure us, as too severe, and sour,  
But as (more rightly) gracious to the good;  
Although we not deny, unto the proud,  
Or the profane, perhaps indeed austere:  
For so ACTAEON, by presuming far,  
Did (to our grief) incur a fatal doom;  
And so, swollen NIOBE (comparing more  
Than he presumed) was trophaeed into stone.  
But are we therefore judged too extreme?  
Seems it no crime, to enter sacred bowers,  
And hallowed places, with impure aspect,  
Most lewdly to pollute? Seems it no crime,  
To brave a deity? Let mortals learn  
To make religion of offending heaven;  
And not at all to censure powers divine.  
To men, this argument should stand for firm,  
" A Goddess did it, therefore it was good:  
" We are not cruel, nor delight in blood.  
But what have serious repetitions  
To do with revels, and the sports of court  
We not intend to sour your late delights  
With harsh expostulation. Let 't suffice,  
That we take notice, and can take revenge  
Of these calumnious, and lewd blasphemies.  
For we are no less CYNTHIA, than we were,  
Nor is our power (but as ourself) the same:  
Though we have now put on no tire of shine,  
But mortal eyes undazzled may endure.  
" Years are beneath the spheres: and time makes weak  
" Things under heaven, not powers which govern heaven.  
And though ourself be, in ourself, secure,  
Yet let not mortals challenge to themselves  
Immunity from thence. Lo, this is all:  
" Honour hath store of spleen, but wanteth gall.  
Once more, we cast the slumber of our thanks  
On your ta'en toil, which here let take an end.  
And that we not mistake your several worths,  
Nor you our favour, from yourselves remove  
What makes you not yourselves, those clouds of mask:  
They unmask." Particular pains, particular thanks do ask.  
How! let me view you! ha? Are we contemned?  
Is there so little awe of our disdain,  
That any (under trust of their disguise)  
Should mix themselves with others of the court?  
And (without forehead) boldly press so far,  
As farther none? How apt is lenity  
To be abused? severity to be loathed?  
And yet, how much more doth the seeming face  
Of neighbour-virtues, and their borrowed names,  
Add of lewd boldness, to lose vanities?  
Who would have thought that PHILAUTIA durst  
Or have usurped noble storge's name?  
Or with that theft have ventured, on our eyes?  
Who would have thought, that all of them should hope  
So much of our connivence, as to come  
To grace themselves, with titles not their own?  
In stead of medicines, have we maladies?  
And such impostumes, as PHANTASTE is,  
Grow in our palace? we must lance these sores,  
Or all will putrefy. Nor are these all,  
For we suspect a farther fraud than this:  
Take off our vail, that shadows may depart,  
And shapes appear, beloved ARETE— So.  
Another face of things presents itself,  
Then did of late: What! feathered CUPID masked?  
And masked like ANTEROS? And, stay! more strange!  
Dear mercury, our brother like a page,  
To countenance the ambush of the boy?  
Nor endeth our discovery as yet:  
GELAIA, like a Nymph, that but erewhile  
(In male attire) did serve ANAIDES?  
CUPID came hither to find sport and game,  
Who, heretofore hath been too conversant  
Among our train; but never felt revenge:  
And mercury bore CUPID company.  
CUPID, we must confess this time of mirth  
(Proclaimed by us) gave opportunity,  
To thy attempts, although no privilege;  
Tempt us no farther, we cannot endure  
Thy presence longer: vanish hence, away.  
You, mercury, we must entreat to stay,  
And hear what we determine of the rest;  
For in this plot, we well perceive your hand.  
But (for we mean not a censorian task,  
And yet to lance these ulcers grown so ripe)  
Dear ARETE, and CRITES, to you two  
We give the charge; impose what pains you please:  
Th' incurable cut off, the rest reform,  
Remembering ever what we first decreed,  
Since revels were proclaimed let now none bleed.  ARE. 
How well DIANA can distinguish times?  
And further censures? keeping to herself  
The doom of gods, leaving the rest to us?  
Come, cite them, CRITES, first, and then proceed.  CRI. 
First, PHILAUTIA (for she was the first,)  
Then light GELAIA, in Aglaia's name,  
Thirdly PHANTASTE, and MORIA next,  
Main follies all, and of the female crew:  
AMORPHUS, or EUCOSMOS counterfeit,  
Voluptuous HEDON ta'en for EUPATHES,  
Brazen ANAIDES, and ASOTUS last,  
With his two pages, MORUS and PROSAITES;  
And thou, the travelers evil, COS, approach,  
Impostors all, and male deformities—  ARE. 
Nay, forward, for I delegate my power.  
And will that at thy mercy they do stand,  
Whom they so oft so plainly scorned before.  
" 'Tis virtue which they want, and wanting it,  
" Honour no garment to their backs can fit.  
Then, CRITES, practise thy discretion.  CRI. 
Adored CYNTHIA, and bright ARETE,  
Another might seem fitter for this task,  
Than CRITES far, but that you judge not so:  
For I (not to appear vindicative,  
Or mindful of contempts, which I contemned  
As done of impotence) must be remiss,  
Who, as I was the author, in some sort,  
To work their knowledge into Cynthia's sight,  
So should be much severer to revenge  
Th'indignity, hence issuing to her name.  
But there's not one of these, who are unpained,  
Or by themselves unpunished: for vice  
Is like a fury to the vicious mind,  
And turns delight itself to punishment.  
But we must forward to design their doom,  
You are offenders, that must be confessed,  
Do you confess it?  ALL. 
We do.  CRI. 
And, that you merit sharp correction?  ALL. 
Yes.  CRI. 
Then we (reserving unto DELIA's grace,  
Her further pleasure, and to ARETE  
What DELIA granteth) thus do sentence you.  
That from this place (for penance known of all,  
Since you have drunk so deeply of self-love)  
You (two and two) singing a palinode,  
March to your several homes by Niobe's stone,  
And offer up two tears apiece thereon;  
That it may change the name, as you must change,  
And of a stone be called weeping Cross:  
Because it standeth cross of Cynthia's way,  
One of whose names is sacred TRIVIA.  
And, after penance thus performed, you pass  
In like set order, not as MIDAS did,  
To wash his gold off into Tagus' stream,  
But to the well of knowledge, Helicon;  
Where purged of your present maladies,  
(Which are not few, nor slender) you become  
Such as you feign would seem: and then return,  
Offering your service to great CYNTHIA.  
This is your sentence, if the goddess please.  
To ratify it with her high consent:  
" The scope of wise mirth unto fruit is bent.  CYN. 
We do approve thy censure, beloved CRITES.  
Which MERCURY, thy true propitious friend,  
(A deity, next JOVE, beloved of us)  
Will undertake to see exactly done:  
And for this service of discovery  
Performed by thee, in honour of our name,  
We vow to guerdon it with such due grace,  
As shall become our bounty, and thy place.  
" Princes, that would their people should do well,  
" Must at themselves begin, as at the head;  
" For men, by their example, pattern out  
" Their imitations, and regard of laws:  
" A virtuous Court a world to virtue draws.  PALINODE. AMO. 
From spanish shrugs, french faces, smirks, irps, and all affected humours.  CHORUS. 
Good MERCURY defend us.  PHA. 
From secret friends, sweet servants, loves, doves, and such fantastic humours.  CHORUS. 
Good MERCURY defend us.  AMO. 
From stabbing of arms, flapdragons, healths, whiffs, and all such swaggering humours.  CHORUS. 
Good MERCURY defend us.  PHA. 
From waving of fans, coy glances, glicks, cringes, and all such simpering humours.  CHORUS. 
Good MERCURY defend us.  AMO. 
From making love by attorney, courting of puppets, and paying for new acquaintance.  CHORUS. 
Good MERCURY defend us.  PHA. 
From perfumed dogs, monkeys, sparrows, dildoes, and parachitoes.  CHORUS. 
Good MERCURY defend us.  AMO. 
From wearing bracelets of hair, shoe-ties, gloves, garters, and rings with poesies.  CHORUS. 
Good MERCURY defend us.  PHA. 
From pargeting, painting, slicking, glazing, and renewing old riveled faces.  CHORUS. 
Good MERCURY defend us.  AMO. 
From squiring to tilt-yards, playhouses, pageants, and all such public places.  CHORUS. 
Good MERCURY defend us.  PHA. 
From entertaining one gallant to gull another, and making fools of either.  CHORUS. 
Good MERCURY defend us.  AMO. 
From belying ladies' favours, noblemen's countenance, coining counterfeit employments, vainglorious taking to them other men's services, and all self-loving humours.  CHORUS. 
Good MERCURY defend us.  SONG. 
NOw each one dry his weeping eyes,  
And to the well of knowledge haste;  
Where purged of your maladies,  
You may of sweeter waters taste:  
And, with refined voice, report  
The grace of CYNTHIA, and her court.    

THE epilogue.  
GEntles, be't known to you, since I went in  
I am turned rhymer; and do thus begin.  
The Author (jealous, how your sense doth take  
His travails) hath enjoined me to make  
Some short, and ceremonious epilogue;  
But if I yet know what, I am a rogue.  
He ties me to such laws, as quite distract  
My thoughts; and would a year of time exact.  
I neither must be faint, remiss, nor sorry,  
Sour, serious, confident, nor peremptory:  
But betwixt these. Let's see; to lay the blame  
Upon the Children's action, that were lame.  
To crave your favour, with a begging knee,  
Were to distrust the writer's faculty.  
To promise better at the next we bring,  
Prorogues disgrace, commends not any thing.  
Stiffly to stand on this, and proudly approve  
The play, might tax the maker of self-love.  
I'll only speak, what I have heard him say;  
by (—) 'tis good, and if you liked, you may.  
THE END  
Ecce rubet quidam, pallet, slupet, oscitat, odit.  
Hoc volo: nunc nobis carmina nostra placent.   

This Comical Satire was first acted, in the year 1600.  
By the then Children of Queen Elizabeth's Chapel.  
The principal comedians were, 

NAT. FIRED.  
SAL. PAVY.  
THO. Clay.  
IOH. uNDERWOOD.  
ROB. BAXTER.  
IOH. FROST.    
With the allowance of the Master of revels.