Cynthia's Revels Part 12

ASO. I comprehend you sir.

AMO. I do stand you, sir; fall back to your first place. Good, pa.s.sing well: very properly pursued.

ASO. "Beautiful, ambiguous, and sufficient lady, what! are you all alone?"

AMO. "We would be, sir, if you would leave us."

ASO. "I am at your beauty's appointment, bright angel; but--"

AMO "What but?"

ASO. "No harm, more than most fair feature."

AMO. That touch relish'd well.

ASO. "But I protest--"

AMO. "And why should you protest?"

ASO. "For good will, dear esteem'd madam, and I hope your ladyship will so conceive of it: And will, in time, return from your disdain, And rue the suff'rance of our friendly pain."

AMO. O, that piece was excellent! If you could pick out more of these play-particles, and, as occasion shall salute you, embroider or damask your discourse with them, persuade your soul, it would most judiciously commend you. Come, this was a well-discharged and auspicious bout. Prove the second.

ASO. "Lady, I cannot ruffle it in red and yellow."

AMO. "Why if you can revel it in white, sir, 'tis sufficient."

ASO. "Say you so, sweet lady! Lan, tede, de, de, de, dant, dant, dant, dante. [SINGS AND DANCES.] No, in good faith, madam, whosever told your ladyship so, abused you; but I would be glad to meet your ladyship in a measure."

AMO. "Me sir! Belike you measure me by yourself, then?"

ASO. "Would I might, fair feature."

AMO. "And what were you the better, if you might?"

ASO. "The better it please you to ask, fair lady."

AMO. Why, this was ravishing, and most acutely continued. Well, spend not your humour too much, you have now competently exercised your conceit: this, once or twice a day, will render you an accomplish'd, elaborate, and well-levell'd gallant. Convey in your courting-stock, we will in the heat of this go visit the nymphs' chamber.

ACT IV

SCENE I.--AN APARTMENT IN THE PALACE.

ENTER PHANTASTE, PHILAUTIA, ARGURION, MORIA, AND CUPID.

PHA. I would this water would arrive once, our travelling friend so commended to us.

ARG. So would I, for he has left all us in travail with expectation of it.

PHA. Pray Jove, I never rise from this couch, if ever I thirsted more for a thing in my whole time of being a courtier.

PHI Nor I, I'll be sworn: the very mention of it sets my lips in a worse heat, than if he had sprinkled them with mercury. Reach me the gla.s.s, sirrah.

CUP. Here, lady.

MOR. They do not peel, sweet charge, do they?

PHI. Yes, a little, guardian.

MOR. O, 'tis an eminent good sign. Ever when my lips do so, I am sure to have some delicious good drink or other approaching.

ARG. Marry, and this may be good for us ladies, for it seems 'tis far fet by their stay.

MOR. My palate for yours, dear Honour, it shall prove most elegant I warrant you. O, I do fancy this gear that's long a coming, with an unmeasurable strain.

PHA. Pray thee sit down, Philautia; that rebatu becomes thee singularly.

PHI. Is it not quaint?

PHA. Yes faith. Methinks, thy servant Hedon is nothing so obsequious to thee, as he was wont to be: I know not how, he is grown out of his garb a-late, he's warp'd.

MOR. In trueness, and so methinks too; he is much converted.

PHI. Tut; let him be what he will, 'tis an animal I dream not of.

This tire, methinks, makes me look very ingeniously, quick, and spirited; I should be some Laura, or some Delia, methinks.

MOR. As I am wise, fair Honours, that t.i.tle she gave him, to be her Ambition, spoil'd him: before, he was the most propitious and observant young novice--

PHA. No, no, you are the whole heaven awry, guardian; 'tis the swaggering coach-horse Anaides draws with him there, has been the diverter of him.

PHI. For Cupid's sake speak no more of him; would I might never dare to look in a mirror again, if I respect ever a marmoset of 'em all, otherwise than I would a feather, or my shuttle-c.o.c.k, to make sport with now and then.

PHA. Come sit down: troth, and you be good beauties, let's run over them all now: Which is the properest man amongst them? I say, the traveller, Amorphus.

PHI. O, fie on him, he looks like a Venetian trumpeter in the battle of Lepanto, in the gallery yonder; and speaks to the tune of a country lady that comes ever in the rearward or train of a fashion.

MOR. I should have judgment in a feature, sweet beauties.

PHA. A body would think so, at these years.

MOR. And I prefer another now, far before him, a million at least.

PHA. Who might that be, guardian?

MOR. Marry, fair charge, Anaides.