Every Man out of His Humour Part 22

MACI. Why, does she love activity?

CIN. Or, if you had but your long stockings on, to be dancing a galliard as she comes by.

FAST. Ay, either. O, these stirring humours make ladies mad with desire; she comes. My good genius embolden me: boy, the pipe quickly.

ENTER SAVIOLINA.

MACI. What! will he give her music?

FAST. A second good morrow to my fair mistress.

SAV. Fair servant, I'll thank you a day hence, when the date of your salutation comes forth.

FAST. How like you that answer? is't not admirable?

MACI. I were a simple courtier, if I could not admire trifles, sir.

FAST. [TALKS AND TAKES TOBACCO BETWEEN THE BREAKS.] Troth, sweet lady, I shall [PUFFS] -- be prepared to give you thanks for those thanks, and -- study more officious, and obsequious regards -- to your fair beauties. -- Mend the pipe, boy.

MACI. I never knew tobacco taken as a parenthesis before.

FAST. 'Fore G.o.d, sweet lady, believe it, I do honour the meanest rush in this chamber for your love.

SAV. Ay, you need not tell me that, sir; I do think you do prize a rush before my love.

MACI. Is this the wonder of nations!

FAST. O, by this air, pardon me, I said 'for' your love, by this light: but it is the accustomed sharpness of your ingenuity, sweet mistress, to [TAKES DOWNTHE VIOL, AND PLAYS] -- ma.s.s, your viol's new strung, methinks.

MACI. Ingenuity! I see his ignorance will not suffer him to slander her, which he had done notably, if he had said wit for ingenuity, as he meant it.

FAST. By the soul of music, lady -- HUM, HUM.

SAV. Would we might hear it once.

FAST. I do more adore and admire your -- HUM, HUM -- predominant perfections, than -- HUM, HUM -- ever I shall have power and faculty to express -- HUM.

SAV. Upon the viol de gambo, you mean?

FAST. It's miserably out of tune, by this hand.

SAV. Nay, rather by the fingers.

MACI. It makes good harmony with her wit.

FAST. Sweet lady, tune it. [SAVIOLINA TUNES THE VIOL.] -- Boy, some tobacco.

MACI. Tobacco again! he does court his mistress with very exceeding good changes.

FAST. Signior Macilente, you take none, sir?

MACI. No, unless I had a mistress, signior, it were a great indecorum for me to take tobacco.

FAST. How like you her wit?

[TALKS AND TAKES TOBACCO BETWEEN AGAIN.

MACI. Her ingenuity is excellent, sir.

FAST. You see the subject of her sweet fingers there -- Oh, she tickles it so, that -- She makes it laugh most divinely; -- I'll tell you a good jest now, and yourself shall say it's a good one: I have wished myself to be that instrument, I think, a thousand times, and not so few, by heaven! --

MACI. Not unlike, sir; but how? to be cased up and hung by on the wall?

FAST. O, no, sir, to be in use, I a.s.sure you; as your judicious eyes may testify. --

SAV. Here, servant, if you will play, come.

FAST. Instantly, sweet lady. -- In good faith, here's most divine tobacco!

SAV. Nay, I cannot stay to dance after your pipe.

FAST. Good! Nay, dear lady, stay; by this sweet smoke, I think your wit be all fire. --

MACI. And he's the salamander belongs to it.

SAV. Is your tobacco perfumed, servant, that you swear by the sweet smoke?

FAST. Still more excellent! Before heaven, and these bright lights, I think -- you are made of ingenuity, I --

MACI. True, as your discourse is. O abominable!

FAST. Will your ladyship take any?

SAV. O peace, I pray you; I love not the breath of a woodc.o.c.k's head.

FAST. Meaning my head, lady?

SAV. Not altogether so, sir; but, as it were fatal to their follies that think to grace themselves with taking tobacco, when they want better entertainment, you see your pipe bears the true form of a woodc.o.c.k's head.

FAST. O admirable simile!

AV. 'Tis best leaving of you in admiration, sir.

[EXIT.

MACI. Are these the admired lady-wits, that having so good a plain song, can run no better division upon it? All her jests are of the stamp March was fifteen years ago. Is this the comet, monsieur Fastidious, that your gallants wonder at so?

FAST. Heart of a gentleman, to neglect me afore the presence thus! Sweet sir, I beseech you be silent in my disgrace. By the muses, I was never in so vile a humour in my life, and her wit was at the flood too! Report it not for a million, good sir: let me be so far endeared to your love.

[EXEUNT.

MIT. What follows next, signior Cordatus? this gallant's humour is almost spent; methinks it ebbs apace, with this contrary breath of his mistress.