She died in child-bed of her, and her father Liv'd not long after: for he lov'd her mother!

They were a godly couple! yet both dy'd, (As we must all.) No creature is immortal, I have heard our pastor say: no, not the faithful!

And they did die (as I said) both in one month.

Rut. Sure she is not long-liv'd, if she spend breath thus.

Pol. And did bequeath her to my care and hand,

To polish and bring up. I moulded her, And fashion'd her; and form'd her; she had the sweat [it)

Both of my brows and brains (my lady knows Since she could write a quarter old.

Lad. I know not

That she could' write so early, my good

gossip.

But I do know she was so long your care, Till she was twelve year old; that I call'd [Polish,

for her,

And took her home; for which I thank you, And am beholden to you.

Rut. I sure thought

She had a lease of talking for nine lives―― Pal. It may be she has.

Pol. Sir, sixteen thousand pound Was then her portion! for she was, indeed, Their only child! and this was to be paid Upon her marriage, so she married still With my good lady's liking here, her aunt: (I heard the will read) Mr. Steel, her father, The world condemn'd him to be very rich, And very hard; and he did stand condemn'd [after,

With that vain world, till, as 'twas proved He left almost as much inore to good uses In sir Moth Interest's hands, iny lady's brother,

Whose sister he had married: he holds all In his close gripe. But Mr. Steel was liberal, And a fine man; and she a dainty dame, And a religious, and a bountiful

In his pecuniary observations! He has brought your niece's portion with him, madam; [here At least, the man that must receive it: They come negociating the affair; You may perceive the contract in their faces, And read th' indenture. If you'll sign em: so.

SCENE VII.

[To them] Interest, Bias.

Pal. What is he, Mr. Compass?
Com. A vi-politick!

Or a sub-aiding instrument of state!
A kind of a laborious secretary

To a great man! (and likely to come on)
Full of attendance! and of such a stride
In business politick or economick,

As well his lord may stoop t' advise with him,

And be prescribed by him in affairs

Of highest consequence, when he is dull'd, Or wearied with the less.

That over-rules tho', by his authority

Of living there; and cares for no man else:
Neglects the sacred letter of the law;
And holds it all to be but a dead heap
Of civil institutions: the rest only
Of common men, and their causes, a
farrago,

[thing. Or a made dish in court; a thing of noCom. And that's your quarrel at him? a just plea.

Int. I tell you, sister Loadstone-
Com. (Hang your ears

This way, and hear his praises: now Moth
opens.)
[the jewel
Int. I ha' brought you here the very man!
Of all the court! close Mr. Bias! sister,
Apply him to your side! or you may wear
him

[ear!

6

Here o' your breast! or hang him in your
He's a fit pendant for a lady's tip!
A chrysolite, a gem; the very agate
Of state and policy; cut from the quar
Of Machiavel, a true Cornelian,
As Tacitus himself! and to be made
The brooch to any true state-cap in Europe!
Lad. You praise him, brother, as you had
hope to sell him. [your niece
Com. No, madam, as he had hope to sell
Unto him.

Lad. 'Ware your true jcsts, Mr. Compass; They will not relish.

-Cut from the QUAR

Com. Why should that fright me, Mr. Bi, from telling Whose ass you are?

Int. Sir, he is one can do

His turns there, and deliver too his letters As punctually, and in as good a fashion, As e'er a secretary can in court.

Iro. Why, is it any matter in what fashion A man deliver his letters, so he not open 'em? Bia. Yes, we have certain precedents

in court,

[age: From which we never swerve once in an And (whatsoe'er he thinks) I know the arts And sciences do not directlier make

A graduate in our universities,
Than an habitual gravity prefers
A man in court.

Com. Which, by the truer style,
Some call a formal flat servility.

Bia. Sir, you may call it what you please; but we

(That tread the path of public businesses) Know what a tacit shrug is, or a shrink; The wearing the callot, the politic hood, And twenty other parerga, o' the bye, You seculars understand not: I shall trick him,

If his reversion come i' my lord's way. Dia. What is that, Mr. Practice? you sure know?

Mas' Compasses reversion?

Pra. A fine place,

(Surveyor of the projects general) I would I had it.

Pal. What is't worth?

Pra. O sir,

A nemo scit.

Lad. We'll think on't afore dinner.

CHORUS.

Boy. NOW, gentlemen, what censure you

of our protasis, or first act?

Pro. Well, boy, it is a fair presentment

of your actors; and a handsome promise of somewhat to come hereafter.

Dam. But there is nothing done in it, or concluded: therefore I say, no act.

Boy. A fine piece of logick! do you look, Mr. Damplay, for conclusions in a protasis? I thought the law of comedy had reserved to the catastrophe; and that the epitasis (as we are taught) and the catastasis, had been intervening parts, to have been expected. But you would have all come together, it seems: the clock should strike five at once, with the acts.

Dam. Why, if it could do so, it were well, boy.

Boy. Yes, if the nature of a clock were to speak, not strike. So, if a child could be born in a play, and grow up to a man, i' the first scene, before he went off the stage: and then after to come forth a squire, and be made a knight: and that knight to travel between the acts, and do wonders i' the Holy Land or elsewhere; kill Paynims, wild boars, dun cows, and other monsters; beget him a reputation, and marry an emperor's daughter for his mistress: convert her father's country: and at last come home lame, and all-to-be-laden with miracles.

Dam. These miracles would please, I assure you, and take the people! for there be of the people, that will expect miracles, and more than miracles from this pen.

Boy. Do they think this pen can juggle? I would we had Hokos pokos for 'em then, your people; or Travitanto Tudesko.

Dam. Who's that, boy?

Boy. Another juggler, with a long name. Or that your expecters would be gone hence now, at the first act; or expect no more hereafter than they understand.

Dam. Why so, my peremptory Jack? Boy. My name is John, indeed-Because, who expect what is impossible, or beyond nature, defraud themselves.

Pro. Nay, there the boy said well: they do defraud themselves, indeed.

Boy. And therefore, Mr. Damplay, unless like a solemn justice of wit, you will damn our play, unheard, or unexamin'd; I shall entreat your mistress, madam Expectation, if she be among these ladies, to have patience, but a pissing while: give our springs leave to open a little, by degrees; a source of ridiculous matter may break forth anon, that shall steep their temples, and bathe their brains in laughter, to the fomenting of stupidity itself, and the awaking any velvet lethargy in the house.

Pro. Why do you maintain your poet's quarrel so with velvet and good clothes, boy? we have seen him in indifferent good clothes ere now.

Boy. And may do in better, if it please the king (his master) to say Amen to it, and allow it, to whom he acknowledgeth all. But his clothes shall never be the best thing about him, though; he will have somewhat beside, either of human letters, or severe honesty, shall speak him a man, though he went naked.

Pro. He is beholden to you, if you can make this good, boy.

Boy. Himself hath done that already, against envy.

Dam. What's your name, sir? or your country?

Boy. John Try-gust my name : a Cornish youth, and the poet's servant.

Dam. West-country breed I thought, you were so bold.

Boy. Or rather saucy; to find out your palate, Mr. Damplay. Faith we do call a spade a spade, in Cornwall. If you dare damn our play, i' the wrong place, we shall take heart to tell you so.

Pro. Good boy.