bodkin, as you say: and a mushrome, for all your other ornatures. HORA. Is't not possible to make an escape from him? CRIS. I haue remitted my verses, all this while, I thinke I ha' forgot 'hem. HORA. Here's he, could wish you had elfe. CRIS. Pray IOVE, I can intreat 'hem of my memorie. HORA. You put your memorie to too much trouble, fir. CRIS. No, sweet 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 бо 65 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, 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 90 69 mercy; [Aside.] N [Aside.] N 81 can: CRIS. Rich was thy hap, fweet, deintie cap, There to be placed: 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 haft thou? pray thee, stay a little thou shalt not goe yet, by PнœвVS. HORA. I fhall not? what remedie? Fie, how I fweat with fuffering! 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 must craue his leaue to piffe anon; Or that I may goe hence with halfe my teeth: I am in fome fuch feare. This tyrannie 115 Whose freedome, and impatience of this fellow, Would, long ere this, haue call'd him foole, and foole, And ranke, and tedious foole, and haue flung iefts 116-118 Happy the bold Bolanus, now, I say: Romes Common Buffon: His free Impudence 119 flung 1716, W, G As hard as ftones, till thou hadst pelted him Out of the place: whil'ft my tame modeftie 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 busineffe, 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. [297] CRIS. O, that's my courfe directly; I am for HORA. Yes, fir: marry, the plague is in that part of the citie; I had almoft forgot to tell you, fir. CRIS. FOW: It's no matter, I feare no peftilence, I ha' not offended PHOвVS. 135 140 HORA. I haue, it feemes; or else this heauie fcourge 145 Could ne're haue lighted on me 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 fhall 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+ 145 [Aside.] N 136 pr'y thee 1640, How call'st thou the pothecary? HORA. O, that I knew a name would fright him 155 Sir RHADAMANTHVS, RHADAMANTHVS, fir. now. There's one fo cald, is a iuft iudge, in hell, And doth inflict ftrange vengeance on all those, That (here on earth) torment poore patient spirits. CRIS. He dwells at the three Furies, by IANVS 160 Temple? HORA. Your pothecary does, fir. CRIS. Hart, I owe him money for fweet meates, and hee has laid to arrest me, I heare: but HORA. Sir, I haue made a most solemne vow: I will 165 neuer baile any man. CRIS. Well then, I'le fweare, and speake him faire, if the worst come. But his name is MINOS, not RHADAMANTHVS, HORACE. HORA. That may bee, fir: I but guest at his name 170 by his figne. But your MINOS is a iudge too, fir? CRIS. I proteft to thee, HORACE (doe but taste mee once) if I doe know my felfe, and mine owne vertues truely, thou wilt not make that esteeme of Varivs, or VIRGIL, or TIBVLLVS, or any of 'hem indeed, as now in 175 thy ignorance thou doft; which I am content to forgiue: I would faine fee, which of thefe could pen more verfes in a day, or with more facilitie then I; or that could court his miftris, kiffe her hand, make better sport with her fanne, or her dogge HORA. I cannot baile you yet, fir. CRIS. Or that could moue his body more gracefully, or dance better: you fhoo'd fee mee, were it not i' the street HORA. Nor yet. CRIS. Why, I haue beene a reueller, and at my cloth of filuer fute, and my long stocking, in my time, and will be againe 154 Apothecary 1640, 1716+ 180 185 QRHADAMANTHVS, sir.] Rhadamanthus Sir: Q HORA. If you may be trufted, fir. CRIS. And then for my finging, HERMOGENES him- 190 felfe enuies me; that is your onely Master of musique you have in Rome. [298] HORA. Is your mother liuing, fir? CRIS. Au: Conuert thy thoughts to fomewhat else, I pray thee. HORA. You haue much of the mother in you, fir: your father is dead? CRIS. I, I thanke Iove, and my grand-father too and all my kinf-folkes, and well compos'd in their vrnes. 195 HORA. The more their happineffe; that reft in peace, 200 Free from th'abundant torture of thy tongue; Would I were with them too. CRIS. What's that, HORACE? HORA. I now remember me, fir, of a fad fate A cunning woman, one SABELLA fung 205 When in her vrne, she caft my destinie, I being but a child. CRIS. What was't I pray thee? By famine, poyfon, or the enemies fword; 210 The hecticke feuer, cough, or pleurifie, All fuch long-winded monsters, as my bane: For if I could but fcape that one difcourfer, 215 I might (no doubt) proue an olde aged man. CRIS. Tut, tut: abandon this idle humour, 'tis 220 nothing but melancholy. 'Fore Iove, now I thinke ont, I am to appeare in court here, to answere to one that has me in fuit; fweet HORACE, goe with mee, this is 189 [Aside.] N 201 [Aside.] N 219 [Going. G, N |