Part 9 (1/2)

_Chi._ No Boy, 'tis the nature Of this strange pa.s.sion when't hits to hale people Along by th' hair, to kick 'em, break their heads.

_Fool._ Do ye call this Acting, was your part to beat me?

_Chi._ Yes, I must act all that he does.

_Fool._ Plague act ye, I'le act no more.

_Stre._ 'Tis but to shew man.

_Fool._ Then man He should have shew'd it only, and not done it, I am sure he beat me beyond Action, Gouts o' your heavy fist.

_Chi._ I'le have thee to him, Thou hast a fine wit, fine fool, and canst play rarely.

He'l hug thee, Boy, and stroke thee.

_Fool._ I'le to the stocks first, E're I be strok't thus.

_Strem._ But how came he, _Chilax_?

_Chi._ I know not that.

_Strem._ I'le to him.

_Chi._ He loves thee well, And much delights to hear thee sing; much taken He has been with thy battel songs.

_Stre._ If Musick Can find his madness; I'le so fiddle him, That out it shall by th' shoulders.

_Chi._ My fine Fidler, He'l firk you and ye take not heed too: 'twill be rare sport To see his own trade triumph over him; His Lute lac'd to his head, for creeping hedges; For mony there's none stirring; try good _Stremon_ Now what your silver sound can do; our voices Are but vain Echoes.

_Stre._ Something shall be done Shall make him understand all; let's toth' Tavern, I have some few Crowns left yet: my whistle wet once I'le pipe him such a Paven--

_Chi._ Hold thy head up, I'le cure it with a quart of wine; come c.o.xcomb, Come Boy take heed of Napkins.

_Fool._ Youl'd no more acting?

_Chi._ No more Chicken.

_Fool._ Go then. [_Exeunt omnes._

_Enter_ Siphax _at one door, and a Gentleman at the other_.

_Si._ G.o.d save you Sir; pray how might I see the Princess?

_Gent._ Why very fitly, Sir, she's even now ready To walk out this way intoth' Park; stand there, Ye cannot miss her sight, Sir.

_Si._ I much thank ye. [_Exit Gentleman._

_Enter_ Calis, Lucippe, _and_ Cleanthe.

_Cal._ Let's have a care, for I'le a.s.sure ye Wenches I wou'd not meet him willingly again; For though I do not fear him, yet his fas.h.i.+on I wou'd not be acquainted much with.

_Cle._ Gentle Lady, Ye need not fear, the walks are view'd and empty, But me thinks, Madam, this kind heart of his--

_Lucip._ He's slow a coming.