Act III. Scene 1. Hot. li. I. Sat. 9 H HORACE, CRISPINVS. Mh? yes; I will begin an ode fo: and it shall be CRIS. 'Slid, yonder's HORACE! they fay hee's an excellent Poet: MECONAS loues him. Ile fall into his acquaintance, if I can; I thinke he be composing, as he goes i' the street! ha? 't is a good humour, and he be: Ile compofe too. HORA. Swell me a bowle with luftie wine, Till I may fee the plump Lyævs fwim Aboue the brim: I drinke, as I would wright, In flowing measure, fill'd with flame, and spright. CRIS. Sweet HORACE, MINERVA, and the Mufes ftand aufpicious to thy deffeignes. How far'st thou, {weete man? frolicke? rich? gallant? ha? HORA. Not greatly gallant, fir, like my fortunes; well. I'm bold to take my leaue, fir, you'ld naught elfe, fir, would you? CRIS. Troth, no, but I could wish thou did❜ft know vs, HORACE, we are a scholer, I affure thee. HORA. A scholer, fir? I fhall bee couetous of your faire knowledge. 5 ΙΟ 15 20 CRIS. Gramercie, good HORACE. Nay, we are new turn'd Poet too, which is more; and a Satyrist too, which is more then that: I write iuft in thy veine, I. 25 ACTVS TERTIVS. SCENA PRIMA. Q Act . . . CRISPINVS.] The Via Sacra, (or Holy Street.) G, N Enter HORACE, CRISPINUS following. G HORACE meditating. N Hot.... 9] [Hor. lib. i. sat. 9.] W om. G, N I Hor. Q, 1716+ Umph G 2 Enter CRISPINUS. N 17 I' am 1640 HAh? 1640 HA! 1716, W 16 Not] Nor 1716 you'le 1640 you'll 1692, 1716, W, G I am for your odes or your fermons, or any thing indeed; wee are a gentleman befides: our name is RvFvS LABERIUS CRISPINVS, we are a prettie ftoick too. [295] HORA. To the proportion of your beard, I thinke it, fir. CRIS. By PHOвVS, here's a moft neate fine street, is't not? I protest to thee, I am enamour'd of this street now, more then of halfe the streets of Rome, againe; 'tis fo polite, and terfe! There's the front of a building now. I ftudie architecture too: if euer I fhould build, I'de haue a house iuft of that profpectiue. HORA. Doubtleffe, this gallants tongue has a good turne, when hee fleepes. CRIS. I doe make verses, when I come in such a street as this: O your city-ladies, you shall ha'hem fit in euery shop like the Mufesoffring you the caftalian dewes, and the thefpian liquors, to as many as haue but the sweet grace and audacitie to fip of their lips. Did you neuer heare any of my verses? 30 35 40 HORA. No, fir (but I am in fome feare, I must, 45 now.) CRIS. I'le tell thee fome (if I can but recouer 'hem) I compos'd e'en now of a dreffing, I saw a iewellers wife weare, who indeede was a iewell her felfe: I preferre that kind of tire now, what's thy opinion, 50 HORACE? HORA. With your filuer bodkin, it does well, fir. CRIS. I cannot tell, but it stirres me more then all your court-curles, or your spangles, or your tricks: I affect not these high gable-ends, these tufcane-tops, nor your coronets, nor your arches, nor your pyramid's; giue me a fine sweet little delicate dreffing, with a 26 Sermones 1640, 1692, 1716 'Sermones" N 37-8 [Aside. G, N 45-6 [Aside. G, N cap Q 55 36 I'ld 1640 48 dreffing] veluet 50 now [Describing it with his hands.]; N dreffing] veluet Cap Q 57 delicate bodkin, as you fay: and a mushrome, for all your other ornatures. HORA. Is't not poffible to make an escape from him? CRIS. I haue remitted my verfes, all this while, I thinke I ha' forgot 'hem. HORA. Here's he, could wish you had elfe. 60 CRIS. Pray Iove, I can intreat 'hem of my memorie. HORA. You put your memorie to too much 65 trouble, fir. CRIS. No, fweet HORACE, we must not ha' thee thinke fo. HORA. I crie you mercy; then, they are my eares That must be tortur'd: well, you must haue patience, eares. CRIS. Pray thee, HORACE, obferue. HORA. Yes, fir: your fattin fleeue begins to fret at the rug that is vnderneath it, I doe obferue: And your ample veluet bases are not without euident staines of a hot difpofition, naturally. CRIS. O I'le die them into another colour, at pleasure how many yards of veluet doft thou thinke they containe? HORA. Hart! I haue put him now in a fresh way 70 75 80 CRIS. S'light, these verses haue loft me againe: I shall not inuite 'hem to mind, now. HORA. Racke not your thoughts, good fir; rather, deferre it 85 [296] To a new time; I'le meete you at your lodging, CRIS. Nay, gentle HORA. Yes, fir. down vpon me. 60 [Aside. G, N 74 bafes] hose Q [Aside.] N 63 [Aside. G, N 79 Hart!] om. 1640 89-90 [Aside.] G, N CRIS. Rich was thy hap, fweet, deintie cap, Where thy fmooth blacke, fleeke white may And both be graced. white is there vfurpt for her brow; her forehead: and 95 then fleeke, as the paralell to fmooth, that went before. A kind of Paranomafie, or Agnomination: doe you conceiue, fir? HORA. Excellent. Troth, fir, I must be abrupt, and leaue you. CRIS. Why, what haste hast thou? pray thee, stay a little thou shalt not goe yet, by PHOвVS. HORA. I fhall not? what remedie? Fie, how I fweat with suffering! CRIS. And then HORA. Pray, fir, giue me leaue to wipe my face a little. CRIS. Yes, doe, good HORACE. HORA. Thanke you, fir. 100 105 Death! I muft craue his leaue to piffe anon; Or that I may goe hence with halfe my teeth : I am in fome fuch feare. This tyrannie. Is ftrange, to take mine eares vp by commifsion, Whose freedome, and impatience of this fellow, Would, long ere this, haue call'd him foole, and foole, IIO 115 I say: 116-118 Happy the bold Bolanus, now, Romes Common Buffon: His free Impudence Would, long ere this, haue cald this fellow, Foole; Q 119 flung 1716, W, G As hard as ftones, till thou hadft pelted him To beare his fopperies 120 CRIS. HORACE, thou art miferably affected to be gone, I fee. But-pray thee, let's proue, to enioy thee 125 awhile Thou haft no bufineffe, I affure me. Whether is thy iourney directed? ha? HORA. Sir, I am going to vifit a friend, that's ficke. CRIS. A friend? What's he? doe not I know him? HORA. No, fir, you doe not know him; and 'tis not 130 the worse for him. CRIS What's his name? where's he lodg'd? HORA. Where, I fhall be fearefull to draw you out of your way, fir; a great way hence: Pray', fir, let's part. CRIS. Nay, but where is't? I pray thee, say. HORA. On the farre fide of all Tyber yonder, by CAESARS gardens. [297] CRIS. O, that's my course directly; I am for you. Come, goe: why stand'st thou? HORA. Yes, fir: marry, the plague is in that part of the citie; I had almost forgot to tell you, fir. CRIS. FOW: It's no matter, I feare no peftilence, I ha' not offended PнOBVS. 135 140 HORA. I haue, it feemes; or else this heauie fcourge 145 Could ne're haue lighted on me CRIS. Come, along. HORA. I am to goe downe fome halfe mile, this way, fir, first, to speake with his phyfician: And from thence to his apothecary, where I shall stay the mixing 150 of diuers drugs CRIS. Why, it's all one. I haue nothing to doe, and I loue not to be idle, I'le beare thee companie. 123 [Aside. G 1692, 1716, W prithee G, N 126 Whither 1716+ 136 pr'y thee 1640, 145 [Aside.] N |