COR. Why, by that proportion, the court might as well take offence at him we call the courtier, and with much more pretext, by how much the place transcends, and goes before in dignity and virtue: but can you imagine that any n.o.ble or true spirit in court, whose sinewy and altogether unaffected graces, very worthily express him a courtier, will make any exception at the opening of such as empty trunk as this Brisk is? or think his own worth impeached, by beholding his motley inside?

MIT. No, sir, I do not.

COR. No more, a.s.sure you, will any grave, wise citizen, or modest matron, take the object of this folly in Deliro and his wife; but rather apply it as the foil to their own virtues. For that were to affirm, that a man writing of Nero, should mean all emperors; or speaking of Machiavel, comprehend all statesmen; or in our Sordido, all farmers; and so of the rest: than which nothing can be uttered more malicious or absurd. Indeed there are a sort of these narrow-eyed decypherers, I confess, that will extort strange and abstruse meanings out of any subject, be it never so conspicuous and innocently delivered. But to such, where'er they sit concealed, let them know, the author defies them and their writing-tables; and hopes no sound or safe judgment will infect itself with their contagious comments, who, indeed, come here only to pervert and poison the sense of what they hear, and for nought else.

ENTER CAVALIER SHIFT, WITH TWO SI-QUISSES (BILLS) IN HIS HAND.

MIT. Stay, what new mute is this, that walks so suspiciously?

COR. O, marry, this is one, for whose better ill.u.s.tration, we must desire you to presuppose the stage, the middle aisle in Paul's, and that, the west end of it.

MIT. So, sir, and what follows?

COR. Faith, a whole volume of humour, and worthy the unclasping.

MIT. As how? What name do you give him first?

COR. He hath shift of names, sir: some call him Apple-John, some signior Whiffe; marry, his main standing name is cavalier Shirt: the rest are but as clean shirts to his natures.

MIT. And what makes he in Paul's now?

COR. Troth, as you see, for the advancement of a 'si quis', or two; wherein he has so varied himself, that if any of 'em take, he may hull up and down in the humorous world a little longer.

MIT. It seems then he bears a very changing sail?

COR. O, as the wind, sir: here comes more.

ACT III

SCENE I. -- THE MIDDLE AISLE OF ST. PAUL'S.

SHIFT. [COMING FORWARD.] This is rare, I have set up my bills without discovery.

[ENTER ORANGE.

ORANGE. What, signior Whiffe! what fortune has brought you into these west parts?

SHIFT. Troth, signior, nothing but your rheum; I have been taking an ounce of tobacco hard by here, with a gentleman, and I am come to spit private in Paul's. 'Save you, sir.

ORANGE. Adieu, good signior Whiffe.

[Pa.s.sES ONWARD.

[ENTER CLOVE.

CLOVE. Master Apple-John! you are well met; when shall we sup together, and laugh, and be fat with those good wenches, ha?

SHIFT. Faith, sir, I must now leave you, upon a few humours and occasions; but when you please, sir.

[EXIT.

CLOVE. Farewell, sweet Apple-John! I wonder there are no more store of gallants here.

MIT. What be these two, signior?

COR. Marry, a couple, sir, that are mere strangers to the whole scope of our play; only come to walk a turn or two in this scene of Paul's, by chance.

ORANGE. Save you, good master Clove!

CLOVE. Sweet master Orange.

MIT. How! Clove and Orange?

COR. Ay, and they are well met, for 'tis as dry an Orange as ever grew: nothing but salutation, and "O lord, sir!" and "It pleases you to say so, sir!" one that can laugh at a jest for company with a most plausible and extemporal grade; and some hour after in private ask you what it was. The other monsieur, Clove, is a more spiced youth; he will sit you a whole afternoon sometimes in a bookseller's shop, reading the Greek, Italian, and Spanish, when he understands not a word of either; if he had the tongues to his suits, he were an excellent linguist.

CLOVE. Do you hear this reported for certainty?

ORANGE. O lord, sir.

[ENTER PUNTARVOLO AND CARLO, FOLLOWED BY TWO SERVING-MEN, ONE LEADING A DOG, THE OTHER BEARING A BAG.

PUNT. Sirrah, take my cloak; and you, sir knave, follow me closer. If thou losest my dog, thou shalt die a dog's death; I will hang thee.

CAR. Tut, fear him not, he's a good lean slave; he loves a dog well, I warrant him; I see by his looks, I: -- Ma.s.s, he's somewhat like him. 'Slud [TO THE SERVANT.] poison him, make him away with a crooked pin, or somewhat, man; thou may'st have more security of thy life; and -- So sir; what! you have not put out your whole venture yet, have you?

PUNT. No, I do want yet some fifteen or sixteen hundred pounds; but my lady, my wife, is 'Out of her Humour', she does not now go.

CAR. No! how then?

PUNT. Marry, I am now enforced to give it out, upon the return of myself, my dog, and my cat.

CAR. Your cat! where is she?

PUNT. My squire has her there, in the bag; sirrah, look to her. How lik'st thou my change, Carlo?

CAR. Oh, for the better, sir; your cat has nine lives, and your wife has but one.

PUNT. Besides, she will never be sea-sick, which will save me so much in conserves. When saw you signior Sogliardo?

CAR. I came from him but now; he is at the herald's office yonder; he requested me to go afore, and take up a man or two for him in Paul's, against his cognisance was ready.

PUNT. What, has he purchased arms, then?

CAR. Ay, and rare ones too; of as many colours as e'er you saw any fool's coat in your life. I'll go look among yond' bills, an I can fit him with legs to his arms.

PUNT. With legs to his arms! Good! I will go with you, sir.

[THEY GO TO READ THE BILLS.

ENTER FASTIDIOUS, DELIRO, AND MACILENTE.

FAST. Come, let's walk in Mediterraneo: I a.s.sure you, sir, I am not the least respected among ladies; but let that pa.s.s: do you know how to go into the presence, sir?