GERON

Tnou dost well to humble thy self before great Apollo. But why to pardon us? Why me? What sayest thou to thy Father? What sayest thou? Was it my fault? Did I set you high a book? You were too proud of your , and would needs slide over the udiments, and leap at first into and higher form, then your capacity would reach unto. Thy Mother, thy Mother. I, it is true, thy More there would needs have it so. I must needs say 'twas her fault, not mine. She jogged me, and told me, that her Roland was as good a scholar, as his Ma ster, and that the est book did best befit his gh now thy long long 1 line nance unto me, then to thy 1 line two years have I been 1 line at home. It grieves & g ates m e this backward language imposed by Apollos doom on my wretched child. It wounds mine eyes to see these backward steps. And yet re Maines a for me, To be the scorn and by word of this plam e. Old Gerons overforward child Retorted foe his astinesse, Is made the prou of these times. And likened to soon ipe soon otten fruit how long time remains yet unexpired this unnatural preposterous task? oh. Rey. Sa . Norey. I, so, it is one whole livelong year. ich thy poor father (spent with tears and grief) arce Hope's now to ou last. Alas The candle of my days is almost spent, It waveth in that snufte, and little oil Is left to make it flame. And yet alas too soon these blasts of sighs Will puff it out ease tears will drown it quite. What sayest thou my deer son, too deer to me, that hast me cost so deep a punishment. Well What shall we beg of Apollo? To pardon this year to us, and release thee? I fear thy wishes are far larger then ou Hope's. Merry Apollo? I doubt his ears are stopped, and I have herd the gods v e not to recall their dooms, which they have once pronounced. What? wouldst thou have me speak to Musaeus Apollos Priest, to intercede for thee for this remission? IN good time here he comes forth. But son I dare not approach to him. Oh what a trembling reverence does possess My limbs, and all benumbs my chill cold blood, When I behold his awful gravity. Let us retire beside this shady tree This mossy ban ke will rest my weary limbs, And give me time to recollect my spirits. Alas poor child, I see, he means thee. Have pity on us great Apoll S Priest. Worthy Philoponus entreat Mus us for my child. Speak for him good sir. My heart is warm with hope to follow them. Mercy sir, mercy. I hankes sacred Priest I shall bring y wife joy full news. I Have been mending my hedges, which the scurvy boy Ludio broke down. And now when I would rest at home, and take my nooning-nap, I must be vexed with my son, my wretched son. They say that Apollo keeps visitation to day. I will lay my son at his Palace gate, perhaps this feast day we may get some favour, some drop of his clemency. Exit. Good your Woe ship, be good to my son, him Mother will run for gri . Keep on thy way, dost thou not see? hold on that path. Seest thou not how my staff does wise thee the way? I think thou camest backward in to the world, that now art damed to this crablike pace. Shall I never be rid of this office? So: stand still Now me thinks I see the porch of great Apollos temple. Oh great Apollo, if my son have thus desert ved to be punished, yet what hath guiltless Geron, what hath he offended?