Sog. Marry, sir, I am telling this gentleman of a hobby-horse, it was my father's indeed, and, though I say it

Car. That should not say it-on, on.

Sog. He did dance in it, with as good humour, and as good regard as any man of his degree whatsoever, being no gentleman: I have danc'd in it myself too.

Car. Not since the humour of gentility was upon you, did you?

Sog. Yes, once; marry, that was but to shew what a gentleman might do in a humour.

Car. O, very good.

Mit. Why, this fellow's discourse were nothing but for the word humour.

Cor. O bear with him; an he should lack matter and words too, 'twere pitiful.

Sog. Nay, look you, sir, there's ne'er a gentleman in the country has the like humours, for the hobbyhorse, as I have; I have the method for the threading of the needle and all, the

Car. How, the method!

Sog. Ay, the leigerity for that, and the whigh-hie, and the daggers in the nose, and the travels of the where Bomby, now converted to Puritanism, renounces the hobbyhorse, in which he had just been dancing:

"This beast of Babylon I'll ne'er back again,

His pace is sure profane, and his lewd wi-hees,

The songs of Hymyn and Gymyn in the wilderness."

The feats of leigerity (legerdemain), such as threading the needle, conveying an egg from hand to hand, which Jonson terms the travels of the egg; running daggers through the nose, and other humours incident to the quality, which Sogliardo exhibited in his career, may yet be seen at country fairs. "But O! the hobby-horse is forgot." We have now Pizarro, and the Castle Spectre, in our holiday booths. We are certainly more genteel, in our rural amusements, than our fathers; but I doubt whether we are quite as merry, or even as wise.

egg from finger to finger, and all the humours incident to the quality. The horse hangs at home in my parlour. I'll keep it for a monument as long as I live, sure.

Car. Do so; and when you die, 'twill be an excellent trophy to hang over your tomb.

Sog. Mass, and I'll have a tomb, now I think on't ; 'tis but so much charges.

Car. Best build it in your lifetime then, your heirs may hap to forget it else.

Sog. Nay, I mean so, I'll not trust to them.

Car. No, for heirs and executors are grown damnable careless, 'specially since the ghosts of testators left walking.-How like you him, signior?

Fast. 'Fore heavens, his humour arrides me exceedingly.1

Car. Arrides you!

Fast. Ay, pleases me: a pox on't! I am so haunted at the court, and at my lodging, with your refined choice spirits, that it makes me clean of another garb, another sheaf, I know not how! I cannot frame me to your harsh vulgar phrase, 'tis against my genius.

Sog. Signior Carlo!

[Takes him aside.

Cor. This is right to that of Horace, Dum vitant stulti vitia, in contraria currunt; so this gallant, labouring to avoid popularity, falls into a habit of affectation, ten thousand times hatefuller than the former.

Car. [pointing to FASTIDIOUS.] Who, he? a gull, a fool, no salt in him i' the earth, man; he looks like a

1 Fast. 'Fore heavens, his humour arrides me exceedingly.] This Latinism is copied by Marmion: "Her form answers my expectation; it arrides (pleases) me exceedingly!" The Antiquary. Shirley, too, has it in his Love Tricks. It is a most affected piece of pedantry, but it does not misbecome the characters who employ it. In the next speech there is more of it.

L

fresh salmon kept in a tub; he'll be spent shortly. His brain's lighter than his feather already, and his tongue more subject to lye, than that is to wag; he sleeps with a musk-cat every night, and walks all day hang'd in pomander' chains for penance; he has his skin tann'd in civet, to make his complexion strong, and the sweetness of his youth lasting in the sense of his sweet lady; a good empty puff, he loves you well, signior.

Sog. There shall be no love lost, sir, I'll assure you. Fast. [advancing to them.] Nay, Carlo, I am not happy in thy love, I see: pray thee suffer me to enjoy thy company a little, sweet mischief: by this air, I shall envy this gentleman's place in thy affections, if you be thus private, i'faith.

Enter CINEDO.

How now! Is the knight arrived?

Cin. No, sir, but 'tis guess'd he will arrive presently, by his fore-runners.

Fast. His hounds! by Minerva, an excellent figure; a good boy.

Car. You should give him a French crown3 for it;

2 — and walks all day hang'd in pomander chains, &c.] Pomanders were little balls of perfumed paste, worn in the pocket, or strung round the neck, as amulets, to prevent infection in times of the plague: they were also an article of luxury among people of rank and fashion, or who aspired to be thought such. Directions for making them frequently occur in our old poets, books of huswifery, &c. "A good pomander, a little decayed in the scent; but six grains of musk, ground with rose water, and tempered with a little civet, shall fetch her again presently." Malcontent, A. v. S. 1. Another receipt, more complicated, and therefore more in the taste of the times, occurs in Lingua, A. iv. S. 3. This kind of amulet has lately been revived with great parade of novelty; such is our credulity, or our ignorance!

3 Car. You should give him a French crown for it.] French crown, like the miserable word do, is almost sure to draw from the commentators a profusion of filth and obscenity wherever it occurs.

the boy would find two better figures in that, and a good figure of your bounty beside.

Fast. Tut, the boy wants no crowns.

Car. No crown; speak in the singular number, and we'll believe you.

Fast. Nay, thou art so capriciously conceited now. Sirrah damnation, I have heard this knight Puntarvolo reported to be a gentleman of exceeding good humour, thou know'st him; prithee, how is his disposition? I never was so favoured of my stars, as to see him yet. Boy, do you look to the hobby? Cin. Ay, sir, the groom has set him up. [AS CINEDO is going out SOGLIARDO takes him aside. Fast. 'Tis well: I rid out of my way of intent to visit him, and take knowledge of his- Nay, good Wickedness, his humour, his humour.

Car. Why, he loves dogs, and hawks, and his wife well; he has a good riding face, and he can sit a great horse; he will taint a staff well at tilt; when he is mounted he looks like the sign of the George, that's all I know; save, that instead of a dragon, he will brandish against a tree, and break his sword as confidently upon the knotty bark, as the other did upon the scales of the beast.

Fast. O, but this is nothing to that's delivered of

Whalley says that it means a corona veneris, a caries in the head, &c. ; though how Fastidious was to give this, is not very apparent. A French crown here means neither more nor less than a piece of money so called.

4

he will taint as taff well at tilt,] i. e. Break it, but not in the most honourable and scientific manner. Such, at least, is the meaning it seems to have here, the only place but one (as far as I know) in which the expression occurs (see Massinger, Vol. ii. p. 293), unless, from Jonson's known attachment to playing on words, it should be thought to bear a similar meaning in a subsequent passage of the present play.

Punt. There never was so witty a jest broken at the tilt, of all the court wits christened.

Maci. O, this applause taints it foully.

him. They say he has dialogues and discourses between his horse, himself, and his dog; and that he will court his own lady, as she were a stranger never encounter'd before.

Car. Ay, that he will, and make fresh love to her every morning; this gentleman has been a spectator of it, signior Insulso.

Sog. I am resolute to keep a page.—Say you, sir? [Leaps from whispering with CINEDO. Car. You have seen signior Puntarvolo accost his lady?

Sog. O, ay, sir.

Fast. And how is the manner of it, prithee, good signior?

Sog. Faith, sir, in very good sort; he has his humours for it, sir; as first, (suppose he were now to come from riding or hunting, or so,) he has his trumpet to sound, and then the waiting-gentlewoman, she looks out, and then he speaks, and then she speaks, -very pretty i'faith, gentlemen.

Fast. Why, but do you remember no particulars, signior?

Sog. O, yes, sir, first, the gentlewoman, she looks out at the window.

Car. After the trumpet has summon'd a parle, not before?

Sog. No, sir, not before; and then says he,-ha, ha, ha, ha!

Car. What says he? be not rapt so.

Sog. Says he,-ha, ha, ha, ha!

Fast. Nay, speak, speak.

Sog. Ha, ha, ha!—says he, God save you, says he;-ha, ha!

Car. Was this the ridiculous motive to all this passion?

Sog. Nay, that, that comes after is,-ha, ha, ha, ha!