MISCELLANIO

Stand by a while, let me salute these Ladies. Hail to these twins of honour, and of beauty. Lady, you are deceived, For you are amiable, or else I have In vain, so often exercised my judgement In the distinction of faces. Troth I found him As rude as any Chaos, so confused I knew not which way to distinguish him. He seemed to me, not to participate Of any Gentle Nature, never I think, To fashion out a Mercury with such A crooked piece of timber, was attempted By a true traveller: but I hope in time To rectify him, for Labour vincit omniam. I warrant you, that I'll make him in time, A perfect Caveleiro: he shall wear His clothes as well, and smell as rank as they, And court his Mistress, and talk idly: that's As much as can be required in a true Gallant, Approve him one: nay more too, he shall dance And do the half Pomado, play at Gleek, And promise more than ere he will perform, And never partly with a penny to a Tradesman Till he has Beatrice him for't: shall walk the streets As gingerly, as if he feared to hurt The ground he went on, while his cast down eye Holds commerce with his leg: shall utter nothing What ere he thinks, yet sweare't what ere it be. Nay more, he shall vow love to all he sees, And damn himself to make them believe it. Shall fawn on all men, yet let his friend perish, For what he spends in one day on his Punk, For Coach hire: these are special properties, And must be often practised, to remember, He shall never rise till it be ten a clock, And so be ready against dinner time. Salute these Ladies as you were instructed. You must conceive the coldness of his courtship, As yet points but one way; you may suppose it To his disdainful Mistress, when he shall come to The Cape de bone speranza of her love, He may vary Like the compass of his compliment. Your oath now to confirm it, If she should chance to doubt, or press you to it. Your method now of thanks. Very well. Why Sir, any thing Within the compass of humanity. To speak, or act, no Pythagorean Could ever think upon so many shapes As I will put you in; the French, the Spanish, Or the Italian garb; not any one, But jointly all, I'll make a perfect ma Out of the shreds of them. Now I collect my self, Sure I have scene you Sir in Padua, Or some face near Like yours. There was the mistake then. Sir, it has been The scope I ever aimed at in my travels, To seek out, and converse with such as have With foreign observations advanced Their natural endowments, and I thank My Stars, I have been ever fortunate To be beloved amongst them, and that you Are one, I make no question. My mind was ever larger, than to be Comprised within the limits of my Country. And I congratulate my Fate, in that I come so near the virtue of that planet, That rui'd at my Nativity; whose nature, Which ever it be, is ever to be wandering. By no means, Sir, Friendship is turned into and injury When it usurps authority, conceive me, Over a friends business, some other time Shall serve to give a mutual testimony Of love between us, and how much I honour you. My suff age shall consent to any thing Her Lady ship approves. In all my travels a we not met the Like; not any one Was so mellifluous in his discourse. I think when he was young, some swarm of Bees Did light upon his lips, as it was feigned Of Hesiod. Its strange there is no more attendance given, To usher in a man of my quality. Are you the Governess of this Cinqueport, Lady? Hast thou never a Pilot, Or man of war to conduct a man safe Into thy Harbour? there be rogues abroad. Piratical varlets that would pillage me. I thought at first, you would have barred my entrance. The shirt of Hersuses was not so hight. Here's no body. No man, you are deceived, I can not find I am a man, that partly Is dead, wherein I once was and Achilles: I can not go, I have lost my nerves. Fitter For and Hospital. I am condemned already To fluxes, and dyer drinks. Signiour Trimalchio, Sir you must pardon me. I can not stoop. I have the Grincums in my back, I fear Will spoil my courtship. Oh me! my scholar too how came he hither? I did not mean t'impart this mystery. How could he find it out? Let us redeem our peace. Good Justice Echo, we had business. They have made me of another religion, I must turn Jew, I think, and be circum ised. I may be any thing, now I shall loose a Limb. I may go seek my pension with the soldiers. But ti no matter, I'll turn valiant, And fight with the stump. This soar against my will, I can not help it. Would I could run away with half my teeth. Good M r . Justice. My business, Is to the Lady Millescent. Are you that Lady? To you then I derect m apology. It seems your eye with approbation, Has glanced upon my person. I protest I never was so dull in the construction Of any Ladies favour in my life: I am ashamed of my error. You have been still too modest to conceal it. That was not my fault: you did ill to strive To hide the flames of love, they must have vent: 'Tis not the walls of flesh can hold them in. Lady, you have took notice of my worth Let it not repent you. Be not stubborn Towards your happiness. You have endured Too much already for my sake, you shall see, Pity can melt my heart. I take no delight, To have a Lady languish for my lioe. I am not made of flint as you suspect me. You shall know what 'tis to tempt me hereafter, When I shall let you perish for your folly. I came to remunerate the courtesy, I received from your Ladyship. I must acknowledge my self bound to you Your Letter to the Justice, Lady, It freed me from the pounces of those varlets, When I was under the gripe of the Law. I know, the only motive was your love. They shall find, I am no man to be slighted, And that she has misplaced her affection. When I have wracked the wrongs on my corrival, Trimalchio, look to thy self, were he removed, There might be Hope's, my valour shall make known There is a difference. I'll straight to the tavern: And when I once am hight with good Canary, I pronounce him dead that affronts my fury. Hang thee blustering son Of Aeolus, defy me! I'll tie up thy breath In bags, and fell it for a penny and ounce. Draw if he dares. Will you resign your mistress? Unless you'll have her taken away by force. There she comes, win her, and wear her. And I. I will have no woman, Against her will. And what must I do now? be laughed at? No, never. Faith we have toyed In jest sometime. Well. I will have her, and stand up for my portion, With the rest of my tribe. I know not how, sure I was stupified, I have ere now guessed at a Ladies mind, Only by the warbling of her Lutestring, Kissing her hand, or wagging of her feather, And suffer you to pine for my embraces, And not conceive it? Though I say nothing, yet I smell something: A Lady send a letter? She is, in love With me, I'll pawn my life, and I never knew it. I'll get my back well, and go visit her.