Sord. (The Sord. The 20, 21, 22 days, rain and wind. good, good! the 23, and 24, rain and some wind, good! the 25, rain, good still! 26, 27, 28, wind and some rain; would it had been rain and some wind! well, 'tis good, when it can be no better. 29, inclining to rain: inclining to rain! that's not so good now: 30, and 31, wind and no rain: no rain! 'slid, stay; this is worse and worse: What says he of saint Swithin's? turn back, look, saint Swithin's: no rain! Mac. O, here's a precious, dirty, damned rogue, That fats himself with expectation Of rotten weather, and unseason'd hours; And he is rich for it, an elder brother! His barns are full, his ricks and mows well trod, Sord. O, here, St. Swithin's, the 15 day, variable weather, for the most part rain, good! for the most part rain: why, it should rain forty days after, now, more or less, it was a rule held, afore I was able to hold a plough, and yet here are two days no rain; ha! it makes me muse. We'll see how the next month begins, if that be better. August 1, 2, 3, and 4, days, rainy and blustering; this is well now: 5, 6, 7, 8, and 9, rainy, with some thunder; Ay marry, this is excellent; the other was false printed sure: the 10 and 11, great store of rain; O good, good, good, good, good! the 12, 13, and 14 days, rain; good still: 15, and 16, rain; good still: 17 and 18, rain, good still; 19 and 20, good still, good still, good still, good still, good still! 21, some rain; some rain! well, we must be patient, and attend the heavens' pleasure, would it were more though: the 22, 23, great tempests of rain, thunder and lightning. O good again, past expectation good! I thank my blessed angel; never, never Laid I [a] penny better out' than this, Enter a Hind, and gives SORDIDO a paper to read. Is not this good? Is it not pleasing this? Is't possible that such a spacious villain 1 Laid I [a] penny out, &c.] We must not be surprised at the confidence which Sordido reposes in his almanack, as persons in his station of life are to be found, even now, superstitiously attentive to its predictions. The ancient almanacks, too, possessed higher claims to respect, than those of our days, since besides certain assurance of the downfall of the Pope, and every potentate with whom we might happen to be at war, circumstances common to both, they contained lists of the days favourable for buying and selling-matters of high import to the Sordidos of all ages. What appears somewhat extraordinary, is the cheapness of this miraculous information: Sordido purchases it at a penny, and that this was not below the stated price, appears from other authorities. Thus Beaumont and Fletcher: 'Tis rare, and strange, that he should breathe and walk, Feed with digestion, sleep, enjoy his health, And, like a boisterous whale swallowing the poor, And thou, in envy of him, gnaw'st thyself: Peace, fool, get hence, and tell thy vexed spirit, [Rises and exit. Sord. Who brought this same, sirrah? Hind. Marry, sir, one of the justice's men; he says 'tis a precept, and all their hands be at it. Sord. Ay, and the prints of them stick in my flesh, Deeper than in their letters: they have sent me Pills wrapt in paper here, that, should I take them, Would poison all the sweetness of my book, And turn my honey into hemlock-juice. But I am wiser than to serve their precepts, Or follow their prescriptions. Here's a device, To charge me bring my grain unto the markets: Ay, much!2 when I have neither barn nor garner, Nor earth to hide it in, I'll bring 't; till then, Each corn I send shall be as big as Paul's. O, but (say some) the poor are like to starve. Why, let 'em starve, what's that to me ? are bees 2 Ay, much !] i. e. by no means; not at all. See vol. i. p. 111. Bound to keep life in drones and idle moths? no: But are indeed a sort of lazy beggars, And this is all that these cheap times are good for: Purges the soil of such vile excrements, And kills the vipers up.3 Hind. O, but master, Take heed they hear you not. Sord. Why so? Hind. They will exclaim against you. Sord. Ay, their exclaims Move me as much, as thy breath moves a mountain. To sit and clap my hands, and laugh, and leap, Hind. I will, sir. [Exit. Sord. I'll instantly set all my hinds to thrashing That done, I'll have them empty all my garners, That, when the searchers come, they may suppose 3 And kills the vipers up.] See vol. i. p. 115. 4 Poor worms, they hiss at me, whilst I at home, &c.] Taken from Horace, but heightened and improved : Populus me sibilat, at mihi plaudo Ipse domi. All's spent, and that my fortunes were belied. Part of the purest wheat, as for my household; [Exit. Cor. Now, signior, how approve you this? have the humourists exprest themselves truly or no? Mit. Yes, if it be well prosecuted, 'tis hitherto happy enough: but methinks Macilente went hence too soon; he might have been made to stay, and speak somewhat in reproof of Sordido's wretchedness now at the last. Cor. O, no, that had been extremely improper; besides, he had continued the scene too long with him, as 'twas, being in no more action. Mit. You may inforce the length as a necessary reason; but for propriety, the scene would very well have borne it, in my judgment. Cor. O, worst of both; why, you mistake his humour utterly then. Mit. How do I mistake it? Is it not Envy? Cor. Yes, but you must understand, signior, he envies him not as he is a villain, a wolf in the commonwealth, but as he is rich and fortunate; for the true condition of envy is, dolor alienæ felicitatis, to have our eyes continually fixed upon another man's prosperity, that is, his chief happiness, and to grieve at that. Whereas, if we make his monstrous and abhorr'd actions our ob |