Satan shall see we dare defy his engines.

Flow. I am content."

After some scenes, representing the respective claims of Tragedy and Comedy to superiority, the second act commences with this scene.-Colax, a flatterer, who shews the extreme of courtesy; and Dyscolus, who," hating to be a slavish parasite, grows into peevishness and impertinent distaste."

"Colax. How far they sin against humanity
That use you thus! Believe me, 'tis a symptom
Of blasphemy and rudeness, so to vex
A gentle, modest nature, as yours is.

Dysc. Why dost thou vex me then?
Colax. I? Heaven defend!

My breeding has been better; I vex you!
You that I know so virtuous, just, and wise,
So pious and religious, so admir'd,
So lov'd of all.

Dysc. Wilt thou not leave me then?
Eternal torture! could your cruelty find

No back but mine, that you thought broad enough
To bear the load of all these epithets?

Pious! religious! he takes me for a fool.
Virtuous and just! Sir, did I ever cheat you,
Cozen or gull you, that you call me just
And virtuous? I am grown the common scoff
Of all the world, the scoff of all the world!
Colax. The world is grown too vile then.
Dysc. So art thou.

Heaven, I am turn'd ridiculous!

Colax. You ridiculous!

But 'tis an impious age; there was a time
(And pity 'tis so good a time had wings
To fly away), when reverence was paid
To a gray head; 'twas held a sacrilege
Not expiable, to deny respect
To one, sir, of your years and gravity.

Dysc. My years and gravity! why how old am I?

I am not rotten yet, or grown so rank,

As I should smell o'th' grave: O times and manners!
Well, Colax, well; go on: ye may abuse mie,

Poor dust and ashes, worm's-meat, years, and gravity;
He takes me for a carcass! what see you

So crazy in me, I have half my teeth;

I see with spectacles, do I not? and can walk too

With th' benefit of my staff, mark if I cannot !

But you, sir, at your pleasure, with years and gravity,
Think me decrepit.

Colax. How, decrepit, sir!

I see young roses bud within your cheeks,
And a quick active blood run free and fresh
Thorough your veins.

Dysc. I am turn'd boy again!

A very stripling, school-boy; have I not

The itch and kibes, am I not scab'd and mangy
About the wrists and hams.

Colax. Still Dyscolus

Dysc. Dyscolus! and why Dyscolus, when were we

Grown so familiar; Dyscolus by my name,

Sure we are Pylades and Orestes, are we not?

Speak, good Pylades.

Golax. Nay, worthy sir,

Pardon my error, 'twas without intent

Of an offence, I'll find some other name
To call you by

Dysc. What do you mean to call me?
Fool, ass, or knave? my name is not so bad
As that I am asham'd on't.

Colax. Still you

You are too jealous.

take all worse than it was meant,

Dysc. Jealous! I ha' not cause for't, my wife's honest; Dost see my horns, dost? if thou dost,

Write cuckold in my forehead; do, write cuckold

With aqua-fortis, do. Jealous! I am jealous ;

Free of the company! wife, I am jealous.

Colax. I mean suspicious.

Dysc. How, suspicious?

For what? for treason, felony, or murder?
Carry me to the justice: bind me over.
For a suspicious person! hang me too
For a suspicious person! 0, 0, 0,

Some courteous plague seize on me, and free my soul
From this immortal torment, every thing

I meet with is vexation, and this, this

Is the vexation of vexations,

The hell of hells, and devil of devils.

Flow. For pity sake, fret not the good old gentleman.

Dysc. O! have I not yet torments great enough,

But you must add to my affliction?
Eternal silence seize you!

Colax. Sir, we strive

To please you, but you still misconstrue us.

Dysc. I must be pleas'd, a very babe, an infant!
I must be pleas'd, give me some pap, or plums,
Buy me a rattle, or a hobby-horse,

To still me, do! be pleas'd; wouldst have me get
A parasite to be flatter'd?

Colax. How, a parasite?

A cogging, flattering, slavish parasite ?
Things I abhor and hate. "Tis not the belly
Shall make my brains a captive. Flatterers!
Souls below reason will not stoop so low
As to give up their liberty; only flatterers
Move by another's wheel. They have no passions
Free to themselves. All their affections,

Qualities, humours, appetites, desires,

Nay wishes, vows and prayers, discourse and thoughts,
Are but another's bondman. Let me tug

At the Turks' gallies; be eternally

Damn'd to a quarry: in this state, my

mind

Is free: a flatterer has not soul nor body;
What shall I say?—No, I applaud your temper,
That in a generous braveness, take distaste

At such whose servile nature strives to please you.
"Tis royal in you, sir.

Dysc. Ha! what's that?

Colax. A feather stuck upon your cloak.

Dyc. A feather!

And what have you to do with my feathers? .
Why should you hinder me from telling the world

I do not lie on flock-beds?

Colax. Pray be pleas'd.

I brush'd it off for mere respect I bare to you.

Dysc. Respect, a fine respect, sir, is it not,

To make the world believe I nourish vermin?

O death, death, death, if that our graves hatch worms
Without rogues to torment us, let 'em have

What teeth they will."

We have next the extremes of Fortitude," which steer an even course between over-much daring, and over-much fearing," represented by Aphobus and Deilius.

"Deil. Is it possible, did you not fear it, say you?

To me the mere relation is an ague.

Good Aphobus, no more such terrible stories;

I would not for a world lie alone to night:
I shall have such strange dreams.

Apho. What can there be

That I should fear?-The gods? if they be good,
"Tis sin to fear them; if not good, no gods;
And then let them fear me. Or are they devils
That must affright me?

Deil. Devils! where, good Aphobus?

I thought there was some conjuring abroad,
'Tis such a terrible wind! O, here it is;
Now it is here again! O still, still, still.
Apho. What's the matter?

Deil. Still it follows me!

The thing in black, behind; soon as the sun

But shines, it haunts me! Gentle spirit, leave me; Cannot you lay him, Aphobus? what an ugly look it has, With eyes as big as saucers, nostrils wider

Than barbers' basons!

Apho. "Tis nothing, Deilus,

But your weak fancy, that from every object
Draws arguments of fear. This terrible black thing

Deil. Where is it, Aphobus?

Apho. Is but your shadow, Deilus.

Deil. And should we not fear shadows?

Apho. No, why should we?

Deil. Who knows but they come leering after us To steal away the substance; watch him, Aphobus. Apho. I nothing fear.

Colax. I do commend your valour,

That fixes your great soul fast as a center,

Not to be mov'd with dangers; let slight cock-boats
Be shaken with a wave, while you stand firm

Like an undaunted rock, whose constant hardness
Rebeats the fury of the raging sea,

Dashing it into froth. Base fear doth argue

A low degenerate soul.

Deil. Now I fear every thing.

Colax. 'Tis your discretion. Every thing has danger,

And therefore every thing is to be fear'd;

I do applaud this wisdom: 'tis a symptom

Of wary providence. His too confident rashness

Argues a stupid ignorance in the soul,

A blind and senseless judgement: give me fear
To man the fort, 'tis such a circumspect

VOL. VI. PART I.

And wary sentinel.

But daring valor,

Uncapable of danger, sleeps securely,

And leaves an open entrance to his enemies.

Deil. What, are they landed?

Apho. Who?

Deil. The enemies

That Colax talks of.

Apho. If they be, I care not;

Though they be giants all, and arm'd with thunder.
Deil. Why, do you not fear thunder?

Apho. Thunder! no;

No more than squibs and crackers.

Deil. Squibs and crackers,

I hope there be none here! s'lid, squibs and crackers!
The mere epitomes of the gun-powder treason;
Faux in a lesser volume.

Apho. Let fools gaze

At bearded stars, it is all one to me

As if they had been shav'd-thus, thus would I
Out-beard a meteor, for I might as well
Name it a prodigy when my candle blazes.

Deil. Is there a comet, say you? Nay, I saw it,
It reach'd from Paul's to Charing, and portends
Some certain eminent danger to the inhabitants
"Twixt those two places: I'll go get a lodging
Out of its influence.

Colax. Will that serve?-I fear

It threatens general ruin to the kingdom.
Deil. I'll to some other country.

Colax. There's danger to cross the seas.
Deil. Is there no way, good Colax,

To cross the sea by land? O the situation,

The horrible situation of an island!

Colax. You, sir, are far above such frivolous thoughts. You fear not death.

Apho. Not I.

Colax. Not sudden death.

Apho. No more than sudden sleep: Sir, I dare die.

Deil. I dare not; death to me is terrible:

I will not die.

Apho. How can you, Sir, prevent it?
Deil. Why, I will kill myself.

Colax. A valiant course,

And the right way to prevent death, indeed.