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Had they dreamt this, they would have truth'd it

heaven;' I mean an earthly heaven; less it is not!

Troy. Yet is this bachelor-miracle not free
From the epidemical headach.

Liv. The yellows?
Troy. Huge jealous fits; admitting none to

enter
But me, his page and barber, with an eunuch,
And an old guardianess. It is a favour
Not common, that the license of

your

visits To your own sister, now and then, is wink'd at. Liv. But why are you his instrument? his ne

phew!
'Tis ominous in nature.

Troy. Not in policy:
Being his heir, I may take truce a little,
With mine own fortunes.

Liv. Knowing how things stand too.
Troy. At certain seasons, as the humour takes

him,
A set of music are permitted peaceably
To cheer their solitariness, provided
They are strangers, not acquainted near the city;
But never the same twice, pardon him that:-
Nor must their stay exceed an hour, or two
At farthest, as at this wise wedding; wherefore

9 They would have truth'd it headen.] Our poet uses truth, whether as a substantive (vol. i. p. 16), or, as in this place, a verb, in a way somewhat peculiar to himself. It here means, they would have affirmed, maintained, as a truth, that this society was heaven.

His barber is the master to instruct
The lasses both in song and dance, by him
Train's

up

in either quality.
Liv. A caution
Happily studied.

Troy. Farther to prevent
Suspicion, he has married his young barber
To the old matron, and withal is pleased
Report should mutter him a mighty man
For th' game, to take off all suspicion
Of insufficiency; and this strict company
He calls his Bower of Fancies.

Liv. Yes, and properly,
Since all his recreations are in fancy.
I am infinitely taken.--Sister! marry,
Would I had sisters in a plenty, Troylo,
So to bestow them all, and turn them Fancies !
Fancies! why 'tis a pretty name, methinks.
Troy. Something remains, which in conclusion

shortly, Shall take thee fuller.

[Music within. --Hark, the wedding jollity! With a bride-cake on my life, to grace the nuptials! Perhaps the ladies will turn songsters. Liv. Silence!

A Song within. After which, enter in procession, with the bride-cake,

Secco and MOROSA, with CASTAMELA, FLORIA, CLARELLA, Silvia, SPADONE, and Musicians.

Sec. Passing neat and exquisite, I protest, fair creatures. These honours to our solemnity are liberal and uncommon; my spouse and myself, with our posterity, shall prostitute our services to your bounties :—shall's not, duckling ?

Mor. Yes, honeysuckle; and do as much for them one day, if things stand right as they should stand. Bill, pigeon, do; thou'st be my cat-a-mountain, and I thy sweet-briar, honey. We'll lead you to kind examples, pretty ones, believe it; and you shall find us, one in one, whilst hearts do last.

Sec. Ever mine own, and ever.
Spa. Well said, old touch-hole.
Liv. All happiness, all joy!

Troy. A plenteous issue,
A fruitful womb !-thou hast a blessing, Secco.

Mor. Indeed he has, sir, if you know all, as I conceive

you know enough, if not the whole; for you have, I may say, tried me to the quick, through and through, and most of my carriage, from time to time.

Spa. 'Twould wind-break a mule, or a ringed mare, to vie burthens with her.

Mor. What's that you mumble, gelding, hey?

Spa. Nothing, forsooth, but that you are a bouncing couple well met, and 'twere pity to part you, though you hung together in a smoky chimney.

Mor. 'Twere e'en pity, indeed, Spadone; nay, thou hast a foolish loving nature of thine own, and wishest well to plain dealings, o' my conscience. Spa. Thank your brideship-your bawdship.

[Aside.

[Aside. Flo. Our sister is not merry.

Clar. Sadness cannot Become a bridal harmony.

Sil. At a wedding, Free spirits are required.

Troy. You should dispense
With serious thoughts now, lady.

Mor. Well said, gentlefolks.
Liv. Fie, Castamela, fie!
All. A dance, a dance!
Troy. By any means, the day is not complete

else.
Cast. Indeed, I'll be excused.
Troy. By no means, lady.
Sec. We all are suitors.

Cast. With your pardons, spare me
For this time, grant me licence to look on.

[Troy.]' Command your pleasures, lady.—Every

one hand

Your partner :-nay, Spadone must make one;
These merriments are free.

Spa. With all my heart; I'm sure I am not the heaviest in the company. Strike up for the honour of the bride and bridegroom.

[Music.

A DANCE. Troy. So, so, here's art in motion! On all parts, You have bestirr'd you nimbly.

1

[Troy.] Command your pleasures, lady.) The 4to gives this as a continuation of Castamela's speech. It evidently belongs to Troylo.

Mor. I could dance now,
E'en till I dropt again; but want of practice
Denies the scope of breath, or so: yet, sirrah,
My cat-a-mountain, do not I trip quickly,
And with a grace too, sirrah ?

Sec. Light as a feather.

Spa. Sure you are not without a stick of liquorice in your pocket, forsooth. You have, I believe, stout lungs of your own, you swim about so roundly without rubs; 'tis a tickling sight to be young still.

Enter NITIDO. Nit. Madam Morosa ! Mor. Child. Nit. To you in secret. [Takes her aside.

Spa. That ear-wig scatters the troop now ; I'll go near to fit him.

Liv. My lord, upon my life-
Troy. Then we must sever.
Mor. Ladies and gentlemen, your ears.

[Whispers them. Spa. Oh, 'twas ever a wanton monkey-he will wriggle into a starting-hole so cleanly-an it had been on my wedding-day,- I know what I know.

Sec. Say'st so, Spadone?

Spa. Nothing, nothing; I prate sometimes beside the purpose—whoreson, lecherous weazle !

Sec. Look, look, look, how officious the little knave is !-but

Spa. Why, there's the business; buts on one's forehead are but scurvy buts.

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