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(Enter PICUS.)

Hand us your band: you see I'm butler here.

How came you hither?

PICUS.

How? Why a strange odd man

A sort of foreign slave, I think-addressed me

I' the market, waiting for my turn,

Like a beast of burthen, and hired me for this service.

So I was hired, too.

DOMUS.

PICUS.

'Tis a glorious house!

But come, let's kiss the lips of your bottle.

DOMUS.

Ay, but be modest: wine is apt to blush.

PICUS.

'Tis famous beverage :

It makes me reel i' the head.

DOMUS.

I believe ye, boy.

Why, since I sipped it—(mind, I'd only sipped)—

I've had such glorious pictures in my brains

Such rich rare dreams!

Such blooms, and rosy bowers, and tumbling fountains,
With a score of moons shining at once upon me—
I never saw such sparkling!

[Drinks.

PICUS.

Here's a vision !

DOMUS.

The sky was always bright; or, if it gloomed,

The

very storms came on with scented waters,

And, if it snowed, 'twas roses; claps of thunder
Seemed music, only louder; nay, in the end,
Died off in gentle ditties. Then, such birds!
And gold and silver chafers bobbed about;
And when there came a little gush of wind,

The very flowers took wing and chased the butterflies!

PICUS.

Egad, 'tis very sweet. I prithee, dearest Domus,
Let me have one small sup!

DOMUS.

No! hear me out.

The hills seemed made of cloud, bridges of rainbows,

The earth like trodden smoke.

Nothing at all was heavy, gross, or human:

Mountains, with climbing cities on their backs,

Shifted about like castled elephants;

You might have launched the houses on the sea,
And seen them swim like galleys!

The stones I pitched i' the ponds would barely sink—
I could have lifted them by tons!

PICUS.

Dear Domus, let me paint, too-dear, dear Domus.

DOMUS.

Methought I was all air-Jove! I was feared,

I had not flesh enough to hold me down

From mounting up to the moon.

At every step

Bounce! when I only thought to stride a pace,

I bounded thirty.

PICUS.

Thirty! Oh, let me drink!

[Drinks.

DOMUS.

And that too when I'd even eat or drank
At the rate of two meals to the hour!

PICUS.

Two meals to the hour-nay Domus-let me drink,
Dear Domus let me drink-before 'tis empty!—

DOMUS.

[Drinks.

But then my fare was all so light and delicate,
The fruits, the cakes, the meats so dainty frail,
They would not bear a bite-no, not a munch,
But melted away like ice. Come, here's the bottle !

PICUS.

Thanks, Domus-Pshaw, it's empty!-Well, who cares— There's something thin and washy after all

In these poor visions. They all end in emptiness,

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Our Lady's very welcome: (bowing) yours, my lady— Sir, your poor butler: (to LYCIUS) Picus-man-speak up, The very same that swam so in my dreams;

I had forgot the goddess!

LAMIA.

Peace, rude knave!

You've tasted what belonged to nobler brains,

And maddened!-My sweet love (to LYCIUS) 'twas kept for

you,

'Tis nature's choicest vintage.

(to DOMUS) Drink no more, sir!

Except what I'll provide you.

DOMUS.

O sweet Lady!

Lord, and I had a cup I'd thank you in it !—

But you've been drunk-sweet lady-you've been drunk! Here's Master Picus knows-for we drunk you.

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And well you may. Look here's a house we've come to!

O Jupiter!

Look here are pictures, sir, and here's our statues !—
That's Bacchus !

And there's Apollo-just aiming at the serpent.

LAMIA.

Peace, fool-my dearest Lycius,

[Pointing.

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DOMUS.

What, don't I know my place?

Ain't I the butler?

My place, slave!

LYCIUS.

[Falls on his back.

No more—no more-there-pull him out by the heels

[Domus is dragged out.

(To LAMIA.) My most dear love-how fares it with you

now?

Your cheek is somewhat pale.

LAMIA.

Indeed, I'm weary,

'We'll not stay here--I have some cheer provided

In a more quiet chamber.

SCENE IV.

[Exeunt.

A Street in Corinth; on one side a very noble building, which is the residence of LAMIA. MERCUTIUS, with the other Gallants, come and discourse in front of the house.

So, here they're lodged !

MERCUTIUS.

In faith a pretty nest!

GALLO.

The first that led us hither for revenge—

O brave Mercutius !

CURIO.

Now my humor's different,

For while there's any stone left in the market-place
That hurt these bones, when that pert chick o'erset us
I'd never let him sleep!-

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