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kind of miraculous gift, to make it absurder than it was.

Clem. Is all the rest of this batch? Bring me a torch; lay it together, and give nre. Cleanse the air. Here was enough to ave infected the whole city, it it had not been taken in time! See, see, how our poet's glory shines! brighter and brighter! still i increases! O, now t's at the hi, hest: and now it declines as fast. You may see, sic tra sit gloria mundi.

Kno. There's an emblem for your son, and your studies!

Clem. Nay, no speech or act of mine be drawn against such as protess it worthily. They are not born every year as an alderman. There goes more to the making of a good poet, than a sheriff. Mr. Kitely, you look upon me! though I live i' the city here, amongst you, I will do more reverence to him, when I meet him, than I will to the mayor out of his year. But these paperpediers! these ink-dabblers! they cannot expect reprehension or reproach. have it with the fact.

They

E. Kno. Sir, you have sav'd me the labour of a defence.

Clem. It shall be discourse for supper; between your father and me, if he dare undertake me. But to dispatch away these, you sign o' the Soldier, and picture o' the Poet, (but both so false, I will not ha' you hanged out at my door till midnight) while we are at supper, you two shall penitently fast it out in my court without; and, if you will, you may pray there that we may be so merry within as to forgive or forget you, when we come out. Here's a third, because we tender your safety, shall watch you, he is provided for the purpose. Look to your charge, sir

Step. And what shall I do?

Clem. O! I had lost a sheep an' he had not bleated: why, sir, you shall give Mr.

Down-right his cloke; and I will intreat him to take it. A trencher and a napkin you shall have i'the buttry, and keep Cob and his wit company here; whom I will intreat first to be reconcil'd; and you to endeavour with your wit to keep 'em so. Step. I'll do my best.

Cob Why, now I see thou art honest, Tb, I receive thee as my dear and mortal wife agun.

Tib. And I you, as my loving and obedient husband.

Clem. Good compliment! It will be their bridal night too. They are married anew. Come, I conjure the rest to put off all discontent. You, Mr. Downright, your anger; you, master Kno'well, your cares; master Kitely and his wife, their jealousy

For, I must tell you both, while that is fed, Horns i'the mind are worse than o' the head. Kit. Sir, thus they go from me; kiss me,

sweet heart.

"See what a drove of horns flie in the air, Wing'd with my cleansed and my credulous breath! [they fall. "Watch'em, suspicious eyes, watch where "See, see! on heads, that think th' have

none at all!

"O, what a plenteous world of this will

come!

[some." "When air rains horns, all may be sure of I ha' learn'd so much verse out of a jealous man's part in a play.

Clem. 'Tis well, 'tis well! This night we'll dedicate to friendship, love, and laughter. Master bridegroom, take your bride and lead; every one a fellow. Here is my mistress, Brain-wofin! to whom all my addresses of courtship shall have their refe rence. Whose adventures this day, when our grand-children shall hear to be made a fable, I doubt not but it shall find both spectators and applause.

There goes more to the making of a good poet, than a sheriff. They are not born every year, as an alderman.] Among plain citizens, this might be thought a reflection upon men of gravity and worship; and Mr. Kitely seemed to take it so: but the merry justice thought no harm, when he thus gave us the sense of the old Latin verses:

Consules funt quotannis, et proconsules:

Solus poeta non quotannis nascitur.

Which Taylor the Water-poet has paraphrased with much greater honour to the bard:

"When heav'n intends to do some mighty thing,

"He makes a poet, or at least a king."

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• Here is my mistress, Brain-worm.] The justice being a man of humour, takes Brainworm as his partner, not indeed for the dance, but for mirth and jocular conversation.

*

This Comedy was first acted in the year 1598, by the then Lord Chamberlain his servants.

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I have supplied this account of the actors from the folio of 1616. It was not customary at that time, to print the player's name against that person of the drama which he represented, as is now the usual practice; so that we cannot positively say, who were the performers of the respective characters in the preceding play. But if the actors' names, as we may probably suppose, are ranged in the same order as the persons of the play, that order determines the part of Kno'well to have been played by Shakspeare, whose name stands first in the list of actors, as the other stands at the head of the dramatic characters.

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He is of an ingenious and free spirit, eager and constant in reproof, without fear controling the world's abuses. One whom no servile hope of gain, or irosty apprehension of danger, can make to be a parasite, either to time, place, or opinion.

MACILENTE,

A man well parted, a sufficient scholar, and travelled; who (wanting that place in the world's account which he thinks his merit capable of), falls into such an envious apoplexy, with which his judgment is so dazzled and distasted, that he grows violently impatient of any opposite happiness in another.

PUNTAR VOLO,

A vain-glorious knight, over-englishing his travels, and wholly consecrated to singularity; the very Jacob's staff of compliment; a sir that bath liv'd to see the revolution of time in most of his apparel. Of presence good enough, but so palpably affected to his own praise, that (for want of flatterers) he commends himself, to the floutage of his own family: le deals upon returns, and strange performances, resolving (in despight of public derision) to stick to his own particular fashion, phrase, and gesture.

CARLO BUFFONE,

A public, scurrilous, and profane jester; that (more swift than Circe) with absurd similes will transform any person into deformity. A good feast-hound, or banquet-beagle, that will scent you out a supper some three miles off, and swear to his patrons (damn him) he canie in oars, when he was but wafted over in a sculler. A slave that hath an extraordinary gift in pleasing his palate, and will swill up more sack at a sitting than would make all the guard a posset. His religion is railing, and his discourse ribaldry. They stand highest in his respect, whom he studies most to reproach.

FASTIDIUS BRISK,

A neat, spruce, affecting courtier, one that wears clothes well, and in fashion: practiseth by his glass how to salute; speaks good remnants (notwithstanding the base-viol and to bacco:) swears tersly, and with variety; cares not what lady's favour he belies, or great

Without fear, controling the world's abuses.] The first edition takes away the comma after fear, and lays both the sentences in one. This seems to be the truer lection: but we claim no merit from either deposing, or restoring commas.

He deals upon RETURNS.] Ventures sent abroad, for the safe return of which he agrees by articles to receive so much money.

man's familiarity: a good property to perfume the boot of a coach.

He will borrow anether man's horse to praise, and backs him as his own. Or, for a need, on foot can post himself into credit with his merchant, only with the gingle of his spur, and the jerk of his wand.

DELIRO,

A good doting citizen, who, it is thought, might be of the common-council for his wealth; a fellow sincerely besotted on his own wife, and so rapt with a conceit of her perfections, that he simply holds himself unworthy of her. And, in that hood-winkt humour, lives more like a suitor than a husban; standing in as true dread of her displeasure, as when he first made love to her. He doth sacrifice two-pence in juniper to her every morning before she rises, and wakes her with villainous-out-of tune musick, which she out of her contempt (though not out of her judgment) is sure to dislike.

FALLACE,

Deliro's wife, and idol; a proud mincing peat, and as perverse as he is officious. She dotes as perfectly upon the courtier, as her husband doth on her, and only wants the face to be dishonest.

SAVIOLINA,

A court lady, whose weightiest praise is a light wit, admired by herself, and one more, her servant Brisk.

SORDIDO,

A wretched hob-nail'd chuff, whose recreation is reading of almanacks; and felicity, foul weather. One that never pray'd but for a lean dearth, and ever wept in a fat harvest.

FUNGOSO,

The son of Sordido, and a student; one that has revell'd in his time, and follows the fashion afar off, like a spie. He makes it the whole bent of his endeavours, to wring sufficient means from his wretched father to put him in the courtier's cut; at which he earnestly aims, but so unluckily, that he still lights short a suit.

SOGLIARDO,

An essential clown, brother to Sordido, yet so enamoured of the name of a gentleman, that he will have it, thou h he buys it. He comes up every term to learn to take tobacco, and see new motions. He is in his kingdom when he can get himself into company where he may be well laught at.

SHIFT,

A thread-bere shark; one that never was a soldier, yet lives upon lendings. His profes sion is skeldring and odling, his bank Pauls, and his ware-house Pict-hatch. Takes up single testons upon oaths, till dooms-day. Falls under executions of three shillings, and enters into five-groat bonds. He way-lays the repor's of services, and cons them without book, damning himseif he came new from them, when all the while he was taking the diet in the bawdy house, or lay pawned in his chamber for rent and victuals. He is of that admirable and happy memory, that he will salute one for an old acquaintance that he never saw in h's life before. He usurps upon cheats, quarrels, and robberies, which he never did, only to get him a name. His chief exercises are, taking the whiff, squiring a cockatrice and making privy searches for imparters.

CLOVE AND ORANGE,

An inseparable case of coxcombs, city-born; the Gemini, or twins of foppery; that, like a pair of wooden foyles, are fit for nothing but to be practis'd upon. Being well flattered they'll lend money, and repent when they have done. Their glory is to invite players, and make suppers. And in company of better rank (to avoid the suspect of insufficiency) will inforce their ignorance most desperat ly, to set upon the understanding of any thing. Orange is the most humorous of the two, (whose small portion of juice being squeezed out) Clove serves to stick him with commendations.

CORDATUS,

The author's friend; a man inly acquainted with the scope and drift of his plot; of a discreet and understanding judgment; and has the place of a moderator.

Is

MITIS,

a person of no action, and therefore we have reason to afford him no character.

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Who is so patient of this impious world, That he can check his spirit, or rein his tongue?

Or who hath such a dead unfeeling sense, That heaven's horrid thunders cannot wake? To see the earth crackt with the weight of sin,

Hell gaping under us, and o'er our heads Black rav'nous ruin, with her sail-stretch'd wings,

2

Ready to sink us down, and cover us.
Who can behold such prodigies as these,
And have his lips seal'd up? Not I: my soul
Was never ground into such oily colours,
To flatter vice, and daub iniquity:
But (with an armed and resolved hand)
I'll strip the ragged follies of the time
Naked as at their birth:

Cor. (Be not too bold.

Asp. You trouble me) and with a whip of steel,

Print wounding lashes in their iron ribs.
I fear no mood stampt in a private brow,
When I am pleas'd t’unmask a public vice.
I fear no strumpets drugs, nor ruffians stab,
Should I detect their hateful luxuries:
No brokers, usurers, or lawyers gripe,
Were I dispos'd to say, they're all corrupt.
I fear no courtiers frown, should I applaud
The easy flexure of his supple hams.
Tut, these are so innate and popular,
That drunken custom would not shame to
laugh
[tax 'em.
(In scorn) at him, that should he dare to
And yet, not one of these but knows his
works,

[hell; Knows what damnation is, the devil, and Yet hourly they persist, grow rank in sin, Puffing their souls away in perj'rous air, To cherish their extortion, pride, or lusts. Mit. Forbear, good Asper; be not like your name. [zeal,

Asp. O, but to such whose faces are all And (with the words of Hercules) invade Such crimes as these! that will not smell

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Cut shorter than their eye-brows! when the conscience

Is vaster than the ocean, and devours
More wretches than the counters.

Mit. Gentle Asper,

Contain your spirit in more stricter bounds,
And be not thus transported with the vio-
Of your strong thoughts.
[lence
Cor. Unless your breath had power
To melt the world, and mould it new again,
It is in vain to spend it in these moods.
Asp. I not observ'd this thronged round
till now!
[come;
Gracious and kind spectators, you are wel-
Apollo and the Muses feast your eyes
With graceful objects, and may our Minerva
Answer your hopes, unto their largest strain.
Yet here mistake me not, judicious friends;
I do not this, to beg your patience,
Or servilely to fawn on your applause,
Like some dry brain, despairing in his merit.
Let me be censur'd by th' austerest brow,
Where I want art or judgment, tax me
freely:
[eyes,
Let envious censors, with their broadest
Look through and through me, I pursue no

favour;

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'After the second SOUNDING.] These several soundings are in the modern theatre termed first, second, and third musick.

1 Black, rav'nous ruin, with her sail-stretch'd wings.] There is a sublimity in this and the preceding lines, which shews us that Jonson could have reached a nobler flight in the greater kinds of poetry, had he not cramped his genius by confining it, in conformity to the prejudices of the age, to a model unworthy of himself, and even not agreeable to his own taste. The author he copied after in his Sejanus and Catiline, was Seneca the Tragedian; as we shall shew more distinctly, when we come to those plays.

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