Mrs. Ott. But he departed straight, I can re- · solve you. Daup. What an excellent choice phrase this lady expresses in! True. O, sir, she is the only authentical courtier, that is not naturally bred one, in the city. Mrs. Ott. You have taken that report upon trust, gentlemen. True. No, I assure you, the court governs it so, lady, in your behalf. Mrs. Ött. I am the servant of the court and courtiers, sir. True. They are rather your idolaters. Enter CUTBEARD. Daup. How now, Cutbeard! any cross? Cut. O no, sir, omnia bene. 'Twas never better on the hinges; all's sure. I have so pleased him with a curate, that he's gone to't almost with the delight he hopes for soon. Daup. What is he for a vicar ?* Cut. One that has catch'd a cold, sir, and can scarce be heard six inches off: as if he spoke out of a bulrush that were not pick'd, or his throat were full of pith: a fine quick fellow, and an excellent barber of prayers. I came to tell you, • What is he for a vicar?] What vicar is he? This is pure German, or, as the authorized phrase seems to be, Saxon, in its idiom, and is very common in our old writers. Was ist das für ein-It is somewhat singular that E. K, the commentator on Spenser's Pastorals, should think it necessary to explain the expression in his time. On the line "What is he for a lad?" he subjoins, " a strange manner of speaking, q. d. What manner of lad is he?" What is he for a creature, occurs in Every Man out of his Humour. 5 An excellent barber of prayers.] i. e. one who cuts them VOL. III. Dd sir, that you might omnem movere lapidem, as they say, be ready with your vexation. Daup. Gramercy, honest Cutbeard! be thereabouts with thy key, to let us in. Cut. I will not fail you, sir; ad manum. [Exit. Cler. Do; and we'll send Daw to you, if you meet him not. [Exit Truewit. Mrs. Ott. Is master Truewit gone? Daup. Yes, lady, there is some unfortunate business fallen out. Mrs. Ott. So I adjudged by the physiognomy of the fellow that came in; and I had a dream last night too of the new pageant, and my lady mayoress, which is always very ominous to me. I told it my lady Haughty t'other day, when her honour came hither to see some China stuffs; and she expounded it out of Artemidorus, and I have found it since very true. It has done me many affronts. Cler. Your dream, lady? Mrs. Ott. Yes, sir, any thing I do but dream of the city. It stain'd me a damask table-cloth, cost me eighteen pound, at one time; and burnt me a black satin gown, as I stood by the fire, at my lady Centaure's chamber in the college, another time. A third time, at the lords' masque, it dropt all my wire and my ruff with wax candle, that I could not go up to the banquet. A fourth time, as I was taking coach to go to Ware, to meet a friend, it dash'd me a new suit all over (a crimson satin doublet, and black velvet skirts) with a brewer's horse, that I was fain to go in and shift me, and kept my chamber a leash of days for the anguish of it. Daup. These were dire mischances, lady. short, &c. Rabelais calls friar John an excellent estropier des Heures; and the author, perhaps, had this expression in view. Cler. I would not dwell in the city, an 'twere so fatal to me. Mrs. Ott. Yes, sir; but I do take advice of my doctor to dream of it as little as I can. Daup. You do well, mistress Otter. Enter sir JOHN DAW, and is taken aside by Mrs. Ott. Will it please you to enter the house farther, gentlemen? Daup. And your favour, lady: but we stay to speak with a knight, sir John Daw, who is here. come. We shall follow you, lady. Mrs. Ott. At your own time, sir. It is my cousin sir Amorous his feast Daup. I know it, lady. Mrs. Ott. And mine together. But it is for his honour, and therefore I take no name of it, more than of the place. Daup. You are a bounteous kinswoman. [Exit. Cler. [coming forward with Daw.] Why, do not you know it, sir John Daw? Daw. No, I am a rook if I do. Cler. I'll tell you then; she's married by this time. And, whereas you were put in the head, that she was gone with sir Dauphine, I assure you, sir Dauphine has been the noblest, honestest friend to you, that ever gentleman of your quality could boast of. He has discover'd the whole plot, and made your mistress so acknowledging, and indeed so ashamed of her injury to you, that she desires you to forgive her, and but grace her wedding with your presence to-day-She is to be married to a very good fortune, she says, his uncle, old Morose; and she will'd me in private to tell you, that she shall be able to do you more favours, and with more security now than before. Daw. Did she say so, i'faith? Cler. Why, what do you think of me, sir John! ask sir Dauphine. Daw. Nay, I believe you.--Good sir Dauphine, did she desire me to forgive her? Daup. I assure you, sir John, she did. Daw. Nay, then, I do with all my heart, and I'll be jovial. Cler. Yes, for look you, sir, this was the injury to you. La-Foole intended this feast to honour her bridal day, and made you the property to invite the college ladies, and promise to bring her; and then at the time she would have appear'd, as his friend, to have given you the dor.* Whereas now, sir Dauphine has brought her to a feeling of it, with this kind of satisfaction, that you shall bring all the ladies to the place where she is, and he very jovial; and there, she will have a dinner, which shall be in your name: and so disappoint La-Foole, to make you good again, and, as it were, a saver in the main. Daw. As I am a knight, I honour her; and forgive her heartily. Cler. About it then presently. Truewit is gone before to confront the coaches, and to acquaint you with so much, if he meet you. Join with him, and 'tis well. Enter sir AMOROUS LA-FOOLE. See; here comes your antagonist; but take you no notice, but be very jovial. La-F. Are the ladies come, sir John Daw, and your mistress? [Exit Daw.]-Sir Dauphine! *To have given you the dor.] See vol. ii. p. 328. you are exceeding welcome, and honest master Clerimont. Where's my cousin? did you see no collegiates, gentlemen? Daup. Collegiates! do you not hear, sir Amorous, how you are abused? La-F. How, sir! Cler. Will you speak so kindly to sir John Daw, that has done you such an affront? La-F. Wherein, gentlemen? let me be a suitor to you to know, I beseech you. Cler. Why, sir, his mistress is married to-day to sir Dauphine's uncle, your cousin's neighbour, and he has diverted all the ladies, and all your company thither, to frustrate your provision, and stick a disgrace upon you. He was here now to have enticed us away from you too: but we told him his own, I think. La-F. Has sir John Daw wrong'd me so inhumanly? Daup. He has done it, sir Amorous, most maliciously and treacherously: but, if you'll be ruled by us, you shall quit him, i'faith. La-F. Good gentlemen, I'll make one, believe it. How, I pray? Daup. Marry, sir, get me your pheasants, and your godwits, and your best meat, and dish it in silver dishes of your cousin's presently; and say nothing, but clap me a clean towel about you, like a sewer; and, bare-headed, march afore it with a good confidence, ('tis but over the way, hard by,) and we'll second you, where you shall set it on the board, and bid them welcome to't, which shall show 'tis yours, and disgrace his preparation utterly and for your cousin, whereas she should be troubled here at home with care of making and giving welcome, she shall transfer all that labour thither, and be a principal |