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Cleo. Will

you now, sir?

Trol. I beseech you heartily, sir: I feel a horrible puking myself.

Mel. Am I stark mad?

Trol. No, no, you are but a little staringthere's difference between staring and stark mad. You are but whimsied yet; crotcheted, conundrumed, or so. [Aside. Mel. Here's all my care; and I do often sigh For thee, Cleophila; we are secluded From all good people. But take heed; Amethus Was son to Doryla, Agenor's sister; There's some ill blood about him, if the surgeon Have not been very skilful to let all out.

Cleo. I am, alas! too griev'd to think of love; That must concern me least.

Mel. Sirrah, be wise! be wise!


Trol. Who, I? I will be monstrous and wise immediately.-Welcome, gentlemen; the more the merrier. I'll lay the cloth, and set the stools in a readiness, for I see here is some hope of dinner now. [Exit. Amet. My lord Meleander, Menaphon, your kinsman,

Newly return'd from travel, comes to tender
His duty to you; to you his love, fair mistress.
Men. I would I could as easily remove
Sadness from your remembrance, sir, as study


To do you faithful service.-My dear cousin,
All best of comforts bless your sweet obedience!
Cleo. One chief of them, [my] worthy cousin,

In you, and your well-doing.

Men. This young stranger
Will well deserve your knowledge.

Amet. For my friend's sake,
Lady, pray give him welcome.
Cleo. He has met it,

If sorrows can look kindly.
Par. You much honour me.

Rhe. How he eyes the company! sure my passion will betray my weakness.--O my master, my noble master, do not forget me; I am still the humblest, and the most faithful in heart of those that serve you. [Aside.

Mel. Ha, ha, ha!

Rhe. There's wormwood in that laughter; 'tis the usher to a violent extremity. [Aside.

Mel. I am a weak old man. All these are come, To jeer my ripe calamities.

Men. Good uncle!

Mel. But I'll outstare ye all: fools, desperate fools!

You are cheated, grossly cheated; range, range on,
And roll about the world to gather moss,
The moss of honour, gay reports, gay clothes,
Gay wives, huge empty buildings, whose proud


Shall with their pinnacles even reach the stars!

Ye work and work like blind moles, in the paths
That are bored thro' the crannies of the earth,
To charge your hungry souls with such full sur-

As, being gorg'd once, make you lean with plenty; And when you have skimm'd the vomit of your riots,

You are fat in no felicity but folly :

Then your last sleeps seize on you; then the troops Of worms crawl round, and feast, good cheer, rich fare,

Dainty, delicious!-Here's Cleophila ;
All the poor stock of my remaining thrift :
You, you, the prince's cousin, how d'ye like her?
Amethus, how d'ye like her?

Amet. My intents

Are just and honourable.

Men. Sir, believe him.

Mel. Take her!-We two must part; go to him, do.

Par. This sight is full of horror.

Rhe. There is sense yet,

In this distraction.

Mel. In this jewel I have given away All what I can call mine. When I am dead, Save charge; let me be buried in a nook: No guns, no pompous whining; these are fooleries. If, whilst we live, we stalk about the streets Jostled by carmen, foot-posts, and fine apes In silken coats, unminded and scarce thought on; E 2


It is not comely to be haled to the earth,
Like high-fed jades upon a tilting-day,
In antick trappings. Scorn to useless tears!
Eroclea was not coffin'd so; she perish'd,
And no eye dropp'd save mine-and I am childish;
I talk like one that doats; laugh at me, Rhetias,
Or rail at me. They will not give me meat,
They have starv'd me; but I'll henceforth be mine
own cook.

Good morrow! 'tis too early for my cares
To revel; I will break my heart a little,
And tell ye more hereafter. Pray be merry. [Exit.

Rhe. I'll follow him. My lord Amethus, use your time respectively; few words to purpose soonest prevail: study no long orations; be plain and short. I'll follow him. [Exit. Amet. Cleophila, although these blacker clouds Of sadness, thicken and make dark the sky Of thy fair eyes, yet give me leave to follow The stream of my affections; they are pure, Without all mixture of unnoble thoughts: Can you be ever mine?

Cleo. I am so low

In mine own fortunes, and my father's woes,
That I want words to tell you, you deserve
A worthier choice.

Amet. But give me leave to hope.
Men. My friend is serious.

8 Haled to the earth.] i. e. drawn to the grave. The allusion is to the pomp and parade of a funeral procession, and to the rich heraldic trophies with which the hearse was covered.

Cleo. Sir, this for answer. If I ever thrive
In any earthly happiness, the next
To my good father's wish'd recovery,
Must be my thankfulness to your great merit,
Which I dare promise:-for the present time,
You cannot urge more from me.

Mel. (within) Ho, Cleophila ! Cleo. This gentleman is mov'd. Amet. Your eyes, Parthenophill, Are guilty of some passion.

Men. Friend, what ails thee?

Par. All is not well within me, sir.

Mel. (within) Cleophila !

Amet. Sweet maid, forget me not; we now

must part.

Cleo. Still you shall have my prayer.
Amet. Still you my truth.



A Room in the Palace.

Enter CUCULUS and GRILLA, the former in a black Velvet Cap, and a white Feather, with a Paper in his hand.

Cuc. Do not I look freshly, and like a youth of the trim ?

Gril. As rare an old youth as ever walked cross-gartered.

Cuc. Here are my mistresses, mustered in white and black. [Reads.] "Kala, the waiting-woman.' I will first begin at the foot: stand thou for Kala.

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