AMO. No, as I am virtuous, being altogether untravell'd, it strikes me into wonder.

ASO. I do purpose to travel, 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 lord, sir! I would there were any thing in me, sir, that might appear worthy the least worthiness of your worth, sir. I protest, sir, I should endeavour to shew it, sir, with more than common regard sir.

CRI. O, here's rare motley, sir. [ASIDE.]

AMO. Both your desert, and your endeavours are plentiful, suspect them not: but your sweet disposition to travel, I a.s.sure you, hath made you another myself in mine eye, and struck me enamour'd on your beauties.

ASO. I would I were the fairest lady of France for your sake, sir!

and yet I would travel too.

AMO. O, you should digress from yourself else: for, believe it, your travel is your only thing that rectifies, or, as the Italian says, "vi rendi p.r.o.nto all' attioni," makes you fit for action.

ASO. I think it be great charge though, sir.

AMO. Charge! why 'tis nothing for a gentleman that goes private, as yourself, or so; my intelligence shall quit my charge at all time. Good faith, this hat hath possest mine eye exceedingly; 'tis so pretty and fantastic: what! is it a beaver?

ASO. Ay, sir, I'll a.s.sure you 'tis a beaver, it cost me eight crowns but this morning.

AMO. After your French account?

ASO. Yes, sir.

CRI. And so near his head! beshrew me, dangerous. [ASIDE.]

AMO. A very pretty fashion, believe me, and a most novel kind of trim: your band is conceited too!

ASO. Sir, it is all at your service.

AMO. O, pardon me.

ASO. I beseech you, sir, if you please to wear it, you shall do me a most infinite grace.

CRI. 'Slight, will he be prais'd out of his clothes?

ASO. By heaven, sir, I do not offer it you after the Italian manner; I would you should conceive so of me.

AMO. 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?

ASO. My name is Asotus, sir.

AMO. I take your love, gentle Asotus, but let me win you to receive this, in exchange.--[THEY EXCHANGE BEAVERS.]

CRI. Heart! they'll change doublets anon. [ASIDE.]

AMO. 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 coa.r.s.e for you to converse with.

ASO. 'Slid, this is not worth a crown, and mine cost me eight but this morning.

CRI. I looked when he would repent him, he has begun to be sad a good while.

AMO. Sir, shall I say to you for that hat? Be not so sad, be not so sad: It is a relic 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 few: It hath these virtues beside: your head shall not ache under it, nor your brain leave you, without license; It will preserve your complexion to eternity; for no beam of the sun, should you wear it under zona torrida, hath power to approach it by two ells. It is proof against thunder, and enchantment; and was given me by a great man in Russia, as an especial prized present; and constantly affirm'd to be the hat that accompanied the politic Ulysses in his tedious and ten years' travels.

ASO. By Jove, I will not depart withal, whosoever would give me a million.

ENTER COS AND PROSAITES.

COS. Save you sweet bloods! does any of you want a creature, or a dependent?

CRI. Beshrew me, a fine blunt slave!

AMO. 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 call'd?

COS. Cos, sir, Cos.

CRI. Cos! how happily hath fortune furnish'd him with a whetstone?

AMO. 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, catechise you.--Gentles, shall we go?

ASO. 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.

ASO. Prosaites! a very fine name; Crites, is it not?

CRI. Yes, and a very ancient one, sir, the Beggar.

ASO. Follow me, good Prosaites; let's talk.

[EXEUNT ALL BUT CRITES.]

CRI. 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 appet.i.te!

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 man, If he not strive to erect his grovelling thoughts Above the strain of flesh? but how more cheap, When, ev'n his best and understanding part, The crown and strength of all his faculties, Floats, like a dead drown'd body, on the stream Of vulgar humour, mixt with common'st 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 is'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 lock'd eyes, In spight of all th' impostures, paintings, drugs, Which her bawd, Custom, dawbs her cheeks withal, She would betray her loath'd and leprous face, And fright the enamour'd 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 m.u.f.fled thought Choose rather not to see it, than avoid it: And if we can but banish our own sense, We act our mimic tricks with that free license, That l.u.s.t, that pleasure, that security; As if we practised in a paste-board case, And no one saw the motion, but the motion.

Well, check thy pa.s.sion, lest it grow too loud: While fools are pitied, they wax fat, and proud.