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beauty of the human body itself. In this passage of Horace, we seem to be directed immediately to the idea taken from statues; some of which, among the antients, are said to have been so bright, that they could scarce bear to look upon them long and steadliy. See the very ingenious Dr. Spence's Polymetis, p. 323. note 18.
* It is his ROSE, he can make nothing else.] Alluding to the painter, who could paint nothing else but that flower.
P. jun. And a dainty scholar!
[They are all struck with admiration. Alm. No, no great scholar, he writes like a gentleman.
Shun. Pox o' your scholar!
With these, to write like a gentleman, will in time
Become all one, as to write like an ass.
P. jun. How do you like't, sir?
Alm. 'Twas excellently sung!
P. jun. What says my Lick-finger?
[here! What a brave gentleman you are, and Wax, How much 'twere better, that my lady's grace
Would here take up, sir, and keep house with you.
P. jun. What say they?
Sta. We could consent, sir, willingly. Band. I, if we knew her grace had the least liking.
War. We must obey her grace's will and pleasure.
P. jun. I thank you, gentlewomen; ply 'em, Lickfinger.
Give mother Mortgage, there
Lic. Her dose of sack.
I have it for her, and her distance of Hum. Pec. Indeed therein, I must confess, dear cousin,
I am a most unfortunate princess.
You still will be so, when your grace may help it.
[The gallants are all about Pecunia. Mad. Who'd lie in a room with a closestool, and garlick,
And kennel with his dogs, that had a prince Like this young Penny-boy to sojourn with? Shun. He'll let you ha' your liberty-Alm. Go forth,
Whither you please, and to what company
Mad. Scatter yourself amongst usP. jun. Hope of Parnassus! Thy ivy shall not wither, nor thy bays, Thou shalt be had into her grace's cellar, And there know sack and claret, all December;
Thy vein is rich, and we must cherish it. Poets and bees swarm now-a-days; but yet There are not those good taverns, for the one sort,
As there are flow'ry fields to feed the other. Though bees be pleas'd with dew, ask little
That brings the honey to her lady's hive: The poet must have wine; and he shall have
P. Ca. Why sigh you, sir? 'cause he's at
P. sen. It breeds my unrest.
And try if you can sleep?
P. sen. No, cogging Jack,
Thou and thy cups too, perish.
[He strikes the sack out of his hand. Shun. O, the sack!
Mad. The sack, the sack!
P. Ca. A madrigal on sack!
Pic. Or rather an elegy, for the sack is
gone. [and rave? Pec. Why do you this, sir? spill the wine, For Broker's sleeping?
P. sen. What through sleep and sack, My trust is wrong'd: but I am still awake, To wait upon your grace, please you to quit This strange lewd company, they are not for you.
[He would have Pecunia home, but she refuseth, and her train.
Pec. No, guardian, I do like him very
P. sen. Your grace's pleasure be observ'd; but you
[me? Statute, and Band, and Wax, will go with Stat. Truly, we will not.
Ban. We will stay, and wait here [man. Upon her grace, and this your noble kinsP. sen. Noble! how noble! who hath made him noble?
P. jun. Why, my most noble money hath, or shall; [kept, My princess here: she, that had you but And treated kindly, would have made you noble, [for you, And wise too; nay, perhaps have done that An act of parliament could not, made you honest.
The truth is, uncle, that her grace dislikes Her entertainment, 'specially her lodging. Pec. Nay, say her jail. Never unfortu
Was us'd so by a jailor. Ask my women: Band, you can tell, and Statute, how he has us'd me, [bolts
Kept me close prisoner, under twenty Stat. And forty padlocks
Ban. All malicious engines
A wicked smith could forge out of his iron; As locks and keys, shackles and manacles, To torture a great lady.
Is not far off; if 'twere, the sink is near,
Or a good jordan.
Mad. You have now no money.
Shun. But are a rascal.
P. sen. I am cheated, robb'd,
Jeer'd by confederacy.
Fit. No, you are kick'd, [and spurn him. And used kindly, as you should be. Shun. Spurn'd
From all commerce of men, who are a cur. [Kicks him out. Alm. A stinking dog in a doublet, with foul linen.
Mad. A snarling rascal, hence.
P. sen. Well, remember, [He exclaims.
Is rarely painted: I will have such a scroll, Whate'er it cost me.
Pec. Well, at better leisure
We'll take a view of it, and so reward you. P. jun. Kiss him, sweet princess, and stile him a cousin.
Pec. I will, if you will have it. Cousin
Unto my beggar here, old Canter; on,
P. Ca. The doctor here, I will proceed with the learned.
When he discourseth of dissection,
[Sextile, And trowl the Trine, the Quartile, and the Platick aspect, and Partile, with his Hyleg, Or Alchochoden, Cuspes, and Horoscope; Does not he cant? who here does understand him?
Alm. This is no Canter, though! P. Ca. Or when my muster-master Talks of his tacticks, and his ranks and files, His bringers-up, his leaders-on, and cries, "Faces about to the right-hand, the left," Now, as you were;" then tells you doubts,
Of cats, and cortines; doth not he cant?
P. Ca. My egg-chin'd laureat here, when
With dimeters, and trimeters, tetrameters,
Shun. Some begging scholar!
P. jun. Nay, I do cherish virtue, though
P. Ca. And you, mas courtier. P. jun. Now he treats of you, Stand forth to him fair.
P. Ca. With all your fly-blown projects, And looks out of the politicks, your shut faces,
And reserv'd questions and answers, that you game with; as,
Is't a clear business? will it manage well? My name must not be us'd else. Here
Your business has receiv'd a taint, give off, I may not prostitute myself. Tut, tut, That little dust I can blow off at pleasure. Here's no such mountain, yet, i' the whole work!
But a light purse may level. I will tide
And shall be still, and so shall you be too:
P. jun. And here stands my father rector, And you professors, you shall all profess Something, and live there, with her grace and ine,
Your founders: I'll endow't with lands and means,
And Lick-finger shall be my master-cook.
P. Ca. And a professor.
P. Ca. And read Apicius de re culinariá To your brave doxy and you !
P. jun. You, cousin Fitton, Shall (as a courtier) read the politicks; Doctor Almanack he shall read Astrology; Shunfield shall read the military arts.
P. Ca. As carving and assaulting the cold custard.
All my conveyances.] The sense will perhaps receive some improvement if for indeed,
Pic. And make 'em too, sir? [lands, Keep all your courts, be steward o' your Let all your leases, keep your evidences : But first, I must procure and pass your mortmain,
You must have licence from above, sir.
P. Ca. But I shall stop it.
[Here his father discovers himself. Your worship's loving and obedient father, Your painful steward, and lost officer! Who have done this, to try how you would
A glyster, and bewray'd the Ephemerides.
Away, I am impatient of these ulcers,
Or plague but you to infect the times. I Your very scent. Come, lady, since my prodigal
Knew not to entertain you to your worth, I'll see if I have learn'd how to receive you With more respect to you, and your fair train here.
Farewell, my beggar in velvet, for to-day; To-morrow you may put on that grave robe,
[He points him to his patch'd cloke thrown
off. [lege, And enter your great work of Canter's colYour work, and worthy of a chronicle.
The fourth INTERMEAN after the fourth Act. Tattle. "WHY, this was the worst of all, "the catastrophe!"
Cen. "The matter began to be good but now; and he has spoil'd it all with his beggar there!"
Mirth. "A beggarly Jack it is, I warrant "him, and a-kin to the poet."
Tat. "Like enough, for he had the chief"est part in his play, if you mark it."
Exp. "Absurdity on him, for a huge overgrown play-maker! Why should he "make him live again, when they and we "all thought him dead? if he had left him "to his rags, there had been an end of "him."
Tat. "I, but set a beggar on horse-back, "he'll never lin till he be a gallop"."
we read, intend all my conveyances, i. e. have the management and inspection of them. But I leave the text as I found it, not venturing to pronounce it erroneous.
'He'll never LIN till he be a gallop.] We know very well the sense of the proverb, though possibly the words are not all exact. Lin seems to have lost a letter at the press: I presume it should be blin, i. e. leave off, or stop. The word is Saxon, and the substantive blin, derived