ASOTUS

As I am a Gentleman, And first of all our family, you wrong me, Dad, To take me for a dunce. Take this, and this, and this, and this again: Can you not be content to give me money, But you must hit me in the teeth with't?—'Slid. Prithee Ballio, I could endure his white and yellow blessings, If he would leave his prating. If I make not room for they, never trust me. True: And I have so much wit to understand It must be spent, and shall boys. I'll live to spend it all; and then—perhaps I'll die, And will not leave the purchase of a sheet, Or buy a rotten coffin. I live in Thebes, yet I dare swear all Athens Affords not such a Tutor: thou mayest read To all the young heirs—in town or city. Sure I were a most ungracious child now, If I should spoil the dreams of a dead Father. Sleep when thou wilt within thy quiet urn, And thou shalt dream thou seest me drink Sack plenty, Encircled round with Doxies plump—and dainty. No, I warrant you, I know I shan't forget, because i'th morning I never remember what I did over night. Rawly?—I'm sure I have already made my Dad a Grandfire To five and twenty—and if I do not Out of mere charity people all the Hospitals With my stray babes, then geld me—Woe to the Parish That bribes me not to spare it. Will you see me? Set me a bag. These were and Usurers bones. Then have at all,—and 'twere a million. —All! Fortune was kind, the precious dirt is mine. So he will weep his gold away, no matter. There's a sweet kiss indeed, this it's to want A Tutor; had you had my education, You would have taken me by the lily hand, Then gazed a while upon my flaming eyes, As wondering at the lustre of their orbs; Then humbly beg in language strowed with flowers, To taste the cherries of my ruby lip. God-a-mercy for this, Tutor. WEll, go thy ways, I may have a thousand father's, And never have the Like:—Well pockets, well, Be not so sad, though you are heavy now, You shall be lighter. Angry, Tutor? The reason, deer Instructor. Out infection. Pardon me, Tutor: for I do repent, And do protest hereafter I will never Wear any thing that jingles—but my spurs. A way mechanic trash: I'll kick thee son of earth:—Thus will I kick thee,— For torturing my poor father—Dirt avant— I do abandon thee. I'll not endure the trouble of account: Say all is spent,—and then we must have more. Would, would, would, he. This is and arrant Coxcomb, That's jealous of his wife ere he has God her, And thinks himself a Cuckold before marriage. This fellow, Tutor, Waxes and wanes a hundred times in a minute: In my conscience he was God in the change o'th'Moon. There will be a quarrel, Tutor: do you take The old men partly, I am o'th' woman's side. This woman is a devil, for she hates her own children. In troth I shall into compunction melt. Will not a cup of Lesbian liquour rouse His frozen spirits to agility? My father's angels guard thee. We have gold To cure thy dumps, although we do not mean It should profane these breeches. Sure his soul Is gone upon some errand, and has left The corpse in pawn till it come back again. Generous Sir, A pottle of Elixar at the Pegasus Bravely carouz'd is more restorative. My Tutor shall disburse. Impertinent? Impertinent in thy face. Danger accrues upon the word Impertinent! Tutor, draw forth thy fatal steel, and slash Till he devour the word Impertinent. We are appeased. —Be safe—I say—Be safe. Canst thou, royal boy, Burn out the remnant of a day with us? I confess— I cannot walk the streets, but straight the females Are in a tumult—I must leave thee, Thebes, Lest I occasion civil wars to rage Within thy walls—I would be loath to ruin My native soil. She cannot stand the fury of my siege. By rising in the cold night to let me in to their Madam. If you hear a waiting-woman cough king, follow her: she will infallibly direct you to some that has been a mistress of mine. A pretty enemy. I long for and encounter. Who would not be valiant to fight under such colours? Such a qualm O'th' sudden. Then I will on, And boldly.— Yet— Truly, Tutor, I have and ague takes me every day, And now the cold fit's on me. Nay, then I'll venture on Were she ten thousand strong. Hail heavenly Queen Of beauty, most illustrious Cupid's daughter Was not so fair. It's no matter. The silly damsel understands no Poetry. Deign me thy lip as blue as azure bright. What's that to the purpose? Is not azure blue, as good as ruby read? Not kiss a Gentleman? And my father worth thousands? —Resolution Spur me to brave achievements. This is such a masculine feminine gender! Yet I God this by struggling. If I fit you not, a diamound ring out of her ear. Proud squeamish coyness! Tutor, such and itch Of kissing runs all over me. I'll to Phryne, And fool away and hour or two in dalliance. Surely, Tutor, I must provide me a suit of jealousy: It will be all the fashion. R Evenge more sweet then muscadine and eggs, To day I will embrace thee. Healths in blood Are soldiers morning's draughts. Proud, proud Evadne Shall know what it's to make a wit her foe, And such a wit as can give overthrow To male or female, be they—man or woman. This can my Tutor do, and I, cr—no man. And by this jemme shall I confound a jewel. 'Slid, Tutor, I have a wit too, there was a jest ex tempore. Tutor, let's be gone. OF my life we are dead men else. Keep your infection to your self. Nay, then I care not, Tyndarus: For that is and epidemical disease, And is the finest sickness in the world When it takes two together. Did not I tell you, Sir, that I was born With a caul upon my face? My mother wrapped me In her own smock. The females fallen before me Like trembling doves before the towering hawk, While over the spoils in triumph thus I walk. True, Tutor, true: for I woo they with cobweb-lawn. I do not know where the enchantment lies, Whither it be the magic of mine eyes, Or lip, or cheek, or brow:—but I suppose The conjuration chiefly in my nose. Evadne, Sir, is mine, and wooed me first. Troth it's a pretty lass; and for a woman She courts in handsome words, and now and then A polite phrase, and such a feeling appetite, That having not a heart of flint or steel, As mine and easier temper,—I consented To give her, in the way of alms, a night Or so:—You guess the meaning. As silly lambs do fill the wolves black jaw, And fearful hearts the generous lions paw, As whale's eat lesser fries; so may you see The matrons, maids, and widows stoop to me. Know you this Jewel? If your Evadne be a Phoenix, Tyndarus, Some ten months hence you may have more o'th' breed. This? a pretty toy; But of no valve to my other trophies That the frail tribe has sent me. Your best jewels Are to be found, Sir, in the weaker vessels, And that's a mystery. I have sweat out such Variety of trifles, their several kinds Would pose a learned lapidary: my closet, By some that knew me not for Cupid's favourite, Has been mistaken for a Jewellers shop. Phœbus whip Thy lazy team, run headlong to the West, I long to taste the banquet of the night. Sir, if you please, when I am surfeited To take a pretty breakfast of my leavings,— Bless me, Tutor, This is not the precise minute. You have and admirable method, Tutor, If this fellow has not been in my heart, I'll be hanged, He speaks my mind so pat. Would, boon couragio— And I will raise another sect Like these, That shall from me be called—Asotides. Tutor, my fellow Pupil here and I Must quaff a bowl of rare philosophy, To pledge the health of his Tyndarides. If any friend of yours want liberty In such a kind as this, you may command me. For if the brave Tyndarides be not free, the Asotides shall grant them liberty. Then do as Tyndarus did, and go with me, We'll drink a pottle to Liberty, and another Pottle to the Asotides, and a pottle to the Tyndarides, And a fourth to the She-philosophers cleped—Techmessides. I think Cupid be turned juggler. Here's nothing but Ho case pocas, Praestò be gone, Come again Jack; and such feats of activity. Madam, were you made From bones of Hercules, and brawn of Atlas, And daughter were to Gargantua great, And wrong my mistress: you should hear my rage Provoke my blade, and cry, Blade, canst thou sleep In peaceful scabbard? Out thou beast of terror, And lion-like roar this disdainful wight To Pluto's shades and ghosts of Erebus. This is another Hercules come from the distaff. A dainty Lady errant. Come, blush not bashful bellipiece—I will meet thee. I ever keep my word with a fair lady. I will requite that jewel with a richer. The glorious heavens arrayed in all their stars Shall not outshine thee. Be not, girl, ashamed. These are acquainted with it. I would vex'um To night with the remembrance of those sports We shall enjoy, then pleasures double rise When both we feed, and they shall Tantalize. Tut, lass, no matter, we'll be manly anon. Gentle Lady, E'ne what you please,— but hanging,—that's a death My enemies will hit me in the teeth with. Beside, it makes a man look Like a Cat When she cries mew. Pray dismiss This pack of hounds: and since we both are guilty, Let us bestow on one another's shoulders The good and wholesome counsel of a cudgel. Thanks, pretty little Gentle man. Are the mad dogs gone? Exeunt officers. Nay, one bout I beseech you more To make up satisfaction. Nay, we must have the health i'th' crabtree-cup too: One to th'Tyndarides, another to the Asotides, And one, my deer instructor, to the Techmessides. Say you so? nay, then here's a health to the Pamphili des too: And for his noble sake, to the Evadnides, And all Philosophy sects what ever they be. Then I would 'done: farewell, and hearty thanks. But, Tutor, stay, this little Gentleman Has been forgotten:—Pray, Sir, what may I call you? I were most unthankful To pass over you.— To the Paegniades, Tutor: You have brought us to a fair pass, Tutor. Your passive valour? give me your active valour: I do not Like your black and blue valour, When bones shall ache with magnanimity. COme forth my Rascals: Let the thriving Lord Confine his family unto half a man I cleept a—Page. Our honour be attended With men of arts and arms. Captain: and Poets Shall with the Elbow blade and Grey goose quill Grace our Retinue—And when we grow surly, Valour and wit fallen prostrate at our frown, Crouch imps of Mars, and frogs of Helicon. Stoutly delivered, My brave Thrasymachus—Thou for this shalt feed. I will not suffer valour to grow lean, And march Like famine. I have seen and army Of such a meager troop, such thin-chapt starvelings, Their barking stomachs hardly could refrain From swallowing up the foe, ere they had slave him. Then say thou too to Hunger—Friend adieu! Ballio condemn a bag, let trash away, See'um both armed in scarlet cap-a-pea, Strike topsail, men of war. Would! has Melpomene taken cold of late, That you are silent, my Parnassian beagles? Is Clio dumb? or has Apollos Jews-trump By sad disaster lost her melodious tongue? A witty solecism reward the error! harp and sing, voice and string. Oh rare close, a high sublime conceit! For this I'll sheath thee in a new serge scabbard Blade of the fount Pegasean. Ballio Bless him with twenty drachmas—yet forbear: Money may spoil his Poetry. Give's some wine, Here is a whetstone both for wit and valour. A health to all my beadsmen of the sword. This to the Muses, and their threadbare tribe. Go sons of Mars, with young Apollos brood, And usher in my Venus: wine hath warmed My blood, and waked it to and itch of sporting. Exeunt Bom. Hyp. Chaer. Thr. for to fetch in Phr. Asot. the while is putting on his armour. HOw bright and glorious are the beams my star Darts from her eye! Led up, my Queen of beauty! But in a softer march, found a retreat: Led on again, I'll meet her in that state The God of war puts on, when he salutes The Cyprian Queen—these that were once the postures Of horrid battles, are become the muster Of love and beauty. Say sweet brace of Mercuries, Is she the—Olympic or the Paphian goddess? Phryne the fair? O peace! if this be she, Go forth, and sing the world a lullaby. For thy deer sake in whom is all delight, I will no more the trembling nations fright With bellowing drums, and groans of slaughtered men. My father brings the golden age again. Come forth thou horrid instrument of death. I will dispeople earth, and drown the world In crimson floods, and purple deluges. The old, the young, the weak, the lusty wight, Soldiers and scholars, fair and foul together, Men, women, children, infants, all shall die. I will have none survive that shall have left Above one eye, three quarters of a face, And half a nose. I will carve legs and arms As at a feast. Henceforth to all posterity Mankind shall walk on crutches. Hogsheads of Nectar Are treasured in the warehouse of her worth. That kiss hath ransomed thousands from the grave. Rage melts away. I pardon half the world. Live mortals, live. Death has no more to do. And yet me thinks a little rigour's left. Vanish rigour, vanish. Harness the lions, make my chariot ready: Venus and I will ride. I, thou shalt kiss they till their rigour vanish (As mine has) into air. I will have these play With Ounces, Tigers, and the Panthers whelp, As with a Squirrel. Bears shall wait on thee, And spotted Leopards shall thy Monkeys be. Fit down my Queen, and let us quaff a bowl: Seest thou, my Phryne, what a fair retinue I have provided thee? These for thy defence against any Lady rivals thee in beauty. And these on all occasions shall vent forth Swelling Encomiums, —Say Bomolochus, How sings my Mistress? They'le make thee any thing. Thou art already Cricket and Grasshopper. —Chaerilos, how does she dance? Now thou art a flay. —How snorts she as she sleeps! Melodious snort! With what decorum spits she! Ballio, present me with the crowns of laurel. Thus I drop wine the best of Helicon On your learned heads, and crown you thus with bays. Rise Poets laureate both! Favour Apollo! I will not have you henceforth sneak to Taverns. And peep Like fiddlers into Gentlemens rooms, To shark for wine and radishes: nor lie sentinel At Ordinaries, nor take up at plays Some novice for a supper: you shall deal No more in ballads to bewail and execution In lamentable rhythms: nor beg in Elegies: Nor counterfeit a sickness to draw in A contribution: nor work journeiwork Under some playhouse post, that deals in Wit by retail: nor shall you task your brains To grace a Burgess new post with a Rebus: Or furnish a young suitour with and Anagram Upon his mistress name: nor study posies For rings and bracelets. —Injure not the bough Of Daphne: know that you are laureate now. Here's a full bowl to beauteous Phrynes health. What durst thou do, Thrasymachus, to the man That should deny it? Brawling you mastiffs. —Keep the peace at home And join your forces against the common foe. I will, unless you swear again. What says the governor of our younger years? Business calls. Drink on, for our return shall sudden be. Now am I Oberon prince of Fairy land, And Phryne shall be Mab my Empress fair: My soldiers two I'll instantly transform To Will-with-a-wisp, and Robin-goodfellow, And make my brace of Poets transmigrate Into Pigwiggin and Sir Peppercorn. It were a pretty whimsy now to counterfeit That I were jealous of my Phrynes love. The humour would be excellent, and become me Better then either Tyndarus or Techmessa. Thus will I walk as one in deadly dumps. Oh what Fury shot A viper through my soul! Here Love with twenty bows And twenty thousand arrows lays his siege To my poor heart.— Oh Phryne, Phryne! I have no cause why to suspect thy love. But if all this be cunning, as who knows! Away foul sin. Oh eyes, what mischief do you see! Patience go live with cuckolds. I defy thee. Villain, rogue, traitor, do not touch my deer So to unsanctify her tender skin, Nor cast a goatish eye upon a hair, To make that little thread of gold profaned, Or gaze but on her shoe-string that springs up A real rose, from virtue of her foot, To blast the odours: grim-faced death shall hurry thee To Styx, Cocytus, and fell Phlegethon. I no Asotusam, nor thou my fire, But angry and incensed Oberon. I should send you to the barbours. No, I will not have Two spenders in a house, Go you and revel, I will go home and live a drudges life, As you have done, to scrape up pelf together: And then forswear all Tutors, Soldiers, Poets, Women, and wine. I will forget to eat, And starve my self to the bigness of a polecat. I will disclaim his faith that can believe There is a Tavern, or a Religious place For holy Nuns that vow incontinence, And have their beads to sin by. — Get you home. You kiss a Gentlewoman to endanger Your chattering teeth? — Go, you have done your share In getting me: to furnish the next age Must be my province. Go, look you to yours. Lie with your musty bags, and get more gold. 'Slid, anger me, and I'll turn drudge for certain. I wonder you are not ashamed to ask pardon. Who bid you live until this age of dotage? This something qualifies. Good: this will qualify more. This qualifies all. You have your pardon, Sir! But hear you, Sir, it must be paid for too. To morrow Mab I thee mine Empress crown. Fly, Phryne, fly, for dangers do surround. Then be happy. Would you not both Be buried in one coffin? then the grave Would have her tenants multiply: —hear you Tutor, Shall not we be suspected for the murder, And choke with a hempen squincy? So great my grief, so dolorous my disaster, I know not in what language to express it, Unless I should be dumb! —Sob—sob Asotus, Sob till thy buttons break, and crack thy bandstrings With lamentation, and distressed condoling, With blubbered eyes behold this spectacle Of men mortality.—Oh my dearest Tyndarus! I, and I could but come to see his face, I'de scratch his eyes out.—Oh the ugly Rogue! Could none but Tyndarus and fair Techmessa Serve the vile varlet to led apes in hell? Are crawling vermin of so choice a diet? Would I were then a worm, freely to feed On such a delicate and Ambrosian dish: Fit to be served a banquet to my bed! But Oh—Techmessa death has swallowed thee, Too sweet a sop for such a fiend as he. Go then, and dip your pens in gall and vinegar To rail on Mors, cruel —impartial Mors: The salvage Tyrant—all-devouring Mors: The envious, wicked, and malicious Mors: Mors that respects not valour, Mors that cares not For wit or learning, Mors that spares not honour: Mors whom wealth bribes not, Mors whom beauty tempts not. Thus loudly rail on Mors, that Mors may know it To be revenged on Mors I keep a Poet. Oh sad mischance! Woeful accident! Here, through my heart. Oh father, I will tell you such a story Of such a sad and lamentable nature, It'll crack your purse-strings. Bear me witness, heaven! I used no force of Rhetoric, no persuasions (What ever the wicked and malicious world May rashly censure) to instigate these two To their own death's. I knew not of the plot, All of you know that I am ignorant. Then wipe my eyes.—Thus when the clouds are gone, The day again is gilded by the sun. WHo's within here? What art thou? How dost thou live? A witty rascal. Let's have some discourse with him. For heavens sake, Sexton, lay my quiet bones By some precise religious officer, One that will keep the peace.—These roaring captains With blustering words and language full of dread, Will make me quit my tomb, and run away Wrap't in my winding sheet,—as if grim Minos, Stern Aeacus, and horrid Rhadamanth Enjoined the corpse a penance. Then skull (although thou be a captains skull) I say thou art a coward, —and no Gentleman; Thy mother was a whore,—and thou liest in thy throat. No, good Hyperbolus, I but make a jest To show my reading in morality. I scorn thy Lyric and Heroic strain, Thy tart Iambick, and Satyric vein. Where be thy querks and tricks? show me again The strange conundrums of thy frisking brain, Thou Poets skull, and say, What's time to chimney? And when we die, we die. We will be both embalmed In precious unguents to delight our sense, And in our grave we'll buss, and hug, and dally As we do here: for death can nothing be To him that after death shall lie with thee. Sexton, receive these coffins to the temple; But not inter them,—for they both are guilty Of their own blood,—till we make expiation Assoil the fact. —Tutor reward the Sexton. I'll come sometime and talk morality with him. Now you that boar my dead friends to the grave, Usher my living mistress home again. Thus joy with grief alternate courses shares, Fortune, I see thy wheel in all affairs. I Have herd my mother, Who had more proverbs in her mouth then teeth, (Peace with her soul where ever it be) affirm, Marry too soon, and you'll repent too late. A sentence worth my meditation: For marriage is a serious thing, perchance Fair Phryne is no maid: for women may Be beauteous, yet no virgins. Fair and chaste Are not of necessary consequence. Or being both fair and chaste, she may be barren; And then when I am old, I shall not have A boy—to dote on, as my father does. A pretty compliment. What art thou fellow? How? foretell any thing? How many years are passed since Thebes was built? And cannot you As well foretell things passed, as things to come! Say, Register of heaven, and Privy-counselor To all the planets, with the rest of your titles, (For I shall never be able to repeat they all) Shall I, as I intend, to day be married? Would? What bold impediment Is so audacious to encounter me? Be he Almutes of what house he please; Let his Aspect be Sextile, Trine, or Quartile; I do not fear him with his radiations, His Tetragons, and inclinations: If he provoke my spleen, I'll have him know I soldiers feed shall mince him, and my Poets Shall with a Satire steeped in gall and vinegar, Rhyme they to death, as they do rats in Ireland. One thing more I would desire to know: Whither my spouse That shall be, be immaculate. I'de be loath To marry and Advowsion that has had Other incumbents. The Dragons-tail puts me in a horrible fear. I feel a kind of a sting in my head already. I shall be jealous presently: For the Ram is but and ill sign in the head; And you know what Scorpio aims at in the Almanac. I thank the Ascendent, and his noble Lord; He shall be welcome to my house at any time, And so shall mistress Moon, with all her angles, And her sixth signs. But how come you to know All this for certain? Are Asla, Baruch, and Abobali, With all the rest o'th' Jury, men of credit? How's that man? Is't possible for any man to have children Without a sign masculine? Happy be the hour I met with thee. I'll have thee live with me. Thou shalt be my domestical Astronomer. I have a brace of Poets as fit as may be, To furnish thee with verses for each month. Sir, since the gracious stars do promise me So numerous a troup of sons and daughters, It's fit I should have my means in my own hands To provide for they all: therefore I fain would know Whither my father be—long-liv'd, or no. Why, who can help it? There's no resistance to the laws of Fate: This sublunary world must yield obedience To the celestial virtues. —Wertenberg not providence To bespeak mourning cloaks against the funeral? If thou be So cunning a prophet, tell me; Do I mean To entertain thee for my vizard? Tell Alcocoden then He is ith' right. Thrasimachus, Hyperbolus! Enter Thrasim. Hyperb. How will the world admire me, when they see My house and Academy, all the arts Wait at my table, every man of quality Take sanctuary here! I will be patron To twenty liberal sciences. Quondam Tutor, (For I am passed all tuition but my wives) Thanks for your wishes; have you studied yet How with one charge (for ceremonious charge I care not for) I may express my grief At the sad funerals of my friends deceased, And yet proclaim with how much joy I wed The beauteous Phryne? A choice device:—I'll practice. How sad a day is this! methinks the sun Affrighted with our sorrows, should run back Into his Eastern palace, and for ever Sleep in the lap of Thetis. Can he show A glorious beam when Tyndarus is dead, And fair Techmessa? I will weep a flood Deep as Deucalion's; and again the Chaos Shall musle up the lamentable world In sable cloaks of grief and black confusion! Now the tother cloak. In what a verdant weed the spring arrays Fresh Tellus in! how Flora decks the fields With all her tapestry! and the Choristers Of every grove chant Carrolls! Mirth is come To visit mortals. Every thing is blithe, Jocund, and jovial. All the gods arrive To grace our nuptials. Let us sing and dance, That heaven may see our revels, and send down The planets in a Masque, the more to grace This days solemnity. Now this cloak again. You Gods, you overload mortality, And press our shoulders with too great a weight Of dismal Misery's. All content is sled With Tyndarus and Techmessa. Ravens croak About my house ill-boding schreech-owls sing Epithalamiums to my spouse and me. Can I dream pleasures, or expect to taste The comforts of the married bed, when Tyndarus And fair Techmessa from the world are gone! No, pardon me you gentle ghosts; I vow To cloister up my grief in some dark cell: And there till grief shall close my blubbered eyes, Weep forth repentance. What a silly fellow My father is, that knows not which cloak speaks? Father, you do forget this is our nuptial. Cast off those trophies of your wealthy beggary, And clad your self in rich and splendent weeds, Such as become my father: Do not blemish Our dignity with rags. Appear to day As glorious as the sun. Set forth your self In your bright lustre. Do not I vary with decorum, Ballio? Nay, I know my mother Was a Chamaeleon, for my father allowed her Nothing but air to feed on. Beauteous Phryne, welcome: Although the dragons tail may scandal thee, And Mars corrupt the Scorpion and the Ram; Yet the good Moon in angles and sixth signs Gives thee a good report. Thy deer, my beauteous Phryne, means the same With Hali, Baruch and Abobali, Caucaph, Toz, Archaphan, and Albuas, Gafar, with Asla, Hippocras, and Lencuo, With Been, Benesaphan, and Albubetez. Ah Girl! the—Almutes of the filial house Is not depressed, Venus is free, and Jove Not yet combust: the signs are watery signs, And Mercury beholds the trine aspect Unhindered in his influence. We shall have babies plenty: I am grown Learned of late. Go Phryne, be in readiness, I long to tie the knot: at night we'll make A young Asotus. TYndarus living? here take this cloak away, Ballio: We have no use on't. You are welcome From the dead, Sir: I hope our friends in Elysium Are in good health. I have entertained One that by Ylem and Aldeboran, With the Almutes, can tell any thing. I'll fetch him hither: he shall resolve you. Exit Asot. HEre's another figure to cast, Sir. These two Gentlemen Are to marry Old Chremylus daughters. This is Tyndarus, And he should have Evadne: and this Pamphilus, That has a months-mind to Techmessa; but that Hymen Looks with a wryneck at they. If the Ascendent With all his radiations and aspects Know any thing,—here's one that can unfold it. I must go fit my self for mine own wedding. Exit. IF there be any Knight that dares lay claim To beauteous Phryne,—(as I hope there's none) I dare him to the encounter; let him meet me Here in the lists:—If he be wise he dare not, But will consider danger in the Actium. I'll win her with my sword:—mistake me not, I challenge no man. He who dares pretend A title to a hair, —shall sup with Pluto: 'Twere cooler supping in another place. No champion yet appear?—I would fain fight. I have no quarrel to thee, Amazon. Why, thou shalt have my father: though he be old, He's rich, and will maintain thee bravely. Dad, What think you on't? Then take him Girl, he will not trouble thee long. For Mars being oriental unto Saturn, And occidental to the Sun, proclaims He is short-liv'd. Join they, Priest. Now usher Phryne to my amorous arms. Phryne, I take thee for my loving spouse. Would, you sweet rogue! WHy how now Tutor, a rope about your neck? I have herd, that hanging and marrying go by de stiny; But I never thought they had come together before. Pray, Sir, let me beg my Tutors pardon.— Spare him to day: for when the night comes on, There's sweeter executions to be done. Pardon me, Sir: I will not have it said by the malicious, that I eat at another men table the first day I set up housekeeping. No, you shall all go home and dine with me. HOw now? Will our endeavours give satisfaction? A way with your Almutes, Horoscopes, Elevations, Aldeborans, Sextiles, and Oppositions. I have and art of mine own to cast this figure by. The Lovers now Jealous of nothing be But your acceptance of their Comedy. I question not heavens influence: for here I behold Angels of as high a Sphere. You are the stars I gaze at, we shall find Our labours blessed, if your Aspects be kind, And ride, loves conqueror, through the streets of Thebes. I'll tell you, Sir: You would not think how many gentlemen-ushers have, and daily do endanger their little legs, by walking early and late to bring me visits from this Lady, and that Count esse. Heaven pardon the sin! Never a man in this city has made so many chambermaids lose their voices, as I have done. And can there be no weddings without prodigies? This is the impediment, the Azymenes Or Planetary hindrance threatened me. By the Almutes of the seventh house, In and aspect of Tetragon radiation, If Luna now be corporally joined, I may overcome the averseness of my stars.