Volume Vii Part 117 (1/2)

COMEDY. Nefarious hag, begin; And let us tug, till one the mast'ry win.

ENVY. Comedy, thou art a shallow goose; I'll overthrow thee in thine own intent, And make thy fall my comic merriment.

COMEDY. Thy policy wants gravity; thou art too weak.

Speak, fiend. As how?

ENVY. Why thus; From my foul study will I hoist a wretch, A lean and hungry negro [Old copy, _neagre_.] cannibal: Whose jaws swell to his eyes with chawing malice, And him I'll make a poet.

COMEDY. What's that to th'purpose?

ENVY. This scrambling raven, with his needy beard, Will I whet on to write a comedy, Wherein shall be compos'd dark sentences, Pleasing to factious brains: And every other where place me a jest.

Whose high abuse shall more torment than blows.

Then I myself (quicker than lightning), Will fly me to a puissant magistrate, And waiting with a trencher at his back, In midst of jollity rehea.r.s.e those galls [Old copy, _gaules_.]

(With some additions) so lately vented in your theatre: He upon this cannot but make complaint, To your great danger, or at least restraint.

COMEDY. Ha, ha, ha! I laugh to hear thy folly; This is a trap for boys, not men, nor such, Especially desertful in their doings, Whose staid discretion rules their purposes.

I and my faction do eschew those vices.

But see, O see, the weary sun for rest Hath lain his golden compa.s.s to the west, Where he perpetual bide and ever s.h.i.+ne, As David's offspring in his happy clime.

Stoop, Envy, stoop, bow to the earth with me, Let's beg our pardons on our bended knee. [_They kneel_.

ENVY. My power has lost her might; Envy's date's expired, Yon splendant majesty hath fell'd my sting, And I amazed am. [_Fall down and quake_.

COMEDY. Glorious and wise Arch-Caesar on this earth, At whose appearance Envy's stroken dumb, And all bad things cease operation, Vouchsafe to pardon our unwilling error, So late presented to your gracious view, And we'll endeavour with excess of pain To please your senses in a choicer strain, Thus we commit you to the arms of night, Whose spangled carcase would (for your delight) Strive to excel the day. Be blessed then: Who other wishes, let him never speak.

ENVY. Amen!

To Fame and Honour we commend your rest; Live still more happy, every hour more blest.

FINIS.]

[199] To the edition printed in the Percy Society's Series.

[200] The old spelling has now been abandoned.

[201] For these I am indebted to the kindness of Mr J.P. Collier, who is now editing ”Henslowe's Diary” for the Shakespeare Society. The portions of it which were published by Malone are very incorrectly given.

[202] _Book_ in these entries means play.

[203] This entry is struck through, the money having been repaid.

[204] This entry is in Porter's own handwriting.

[205] ”Spec. of Engl. Dram. Poets,” ii. 185, edit. 1835.

[206] See Hazlitt's ”Popular Poetry,” iv, 38-40.

[207] Second edit., _Welcome then_.