The goodness of your judgment to deny it, And then the true joys I conceive in her. Maci. Is't possible she should deserve so well, As you pretend? Deli. Ay, and she knows so well Her own deserts, that, when I strive t'enjoy them, And, seeing my worth out-weigh'd so in her graces, That no observance I can do to her Can make her kind to me: if she find fault, I mend that fault; and then she says, I faulted, Maci. You are too amorous, too obsequious, O, that a man were his own man so much, I have now taken such a perfect course, Perfumed gloves, and delicate chains of amber, Enter FALLACE. Fal. Here's a sweet stink indeed! What, shall I ever be thus crost and plagued, So fulsome with perfumes, that I am fear'd, Deli. Nay, dear wife, I know thou hast said thou hast loved perfumes, Fal. Ay, long since, perhaps ; But now that sense is alter'd: you would have me, m er'd aces. her. ue! eet? ne, Like to a puddle, or a standing pool, And since, I hope, the humour of thy sense Fal. Why, those were growing flowers, And these within my walk are cut and strewed. Fal. Ay! have they so? In your gross judgment. If you make no difference And with such judgment have you changed the Leaving no room, that I can joy to be in, In all your house; and now my walk, and all, Deli. What shall I do? O, I shall never please her. [A side. Deli. Away with 'em! would I had broke a joint When I devised this, that should so dislike her. Away, bear all away. [Exit FIDO with flowers, &c. Fal. Ay, do; for fear Aught that is there should like her. O, this man, 2 Fal. Ay, do; for fear Aught that is there should like her,] i. e. should please her. So in the line just above, "that should so dislike," i. e. displease her: How cunningly he can conceal himself, As though he loved, nay, honour'd and adored !— Deli. Why, my sweet heart? Fal. Sweet heart! O, better still! And asking, why? wherefore? and looking strangely, As if he were as white as innocence! Alas, you're simple, you; you cannot change, I did but cast an amorous eye, e'en now, Deli. Be they my bane then! What, sirrah, Fido, bring in those gloves again You took from hence. Fal. 'Sbody, sir, but do not : Bring in no gloves to spite me; Deli. Ay me, most wretched; strued! if you do-- Maci. O, how she tempts my heart-strings with her eye, To knit them to her beauties, or to break! What mov'd the heavens, that they could not make That hath no bliss like others? Would to heaven, Cor. Behold, behold, the translated gallant. [Aside. and this is the language of the poet's contemporaries. So Shakspeare: "His countenance likes me not." King Lear. and almost every dramatist of the age. WHAL. Enter FUNGOSO, apparelled like FASTIDIOUS BRISK. Fung. Save you, brother and sister; save you, sir! I have commendations for you out o' the country.I wonder they take no knowledge of my suit: [Aside.] -Mine uncle Sogliardo is in town. Sister, methinks you are melancholy; why are you so sad? I think you took me for master Fastidious Brisk, sister, did you not? Fal. Why should I take you for him? Fung. Nay, nothing.I was lately in master Fastidious's company, and methinks we are very like. Deli. You have a fair suit, brother, 'give you joy on't. Fung. Faith, good enough to ride in, brother; I made it to ride in. Fal. O, now I see the cause of his idle demand was his new suit. Deli. Pray you, good brother, try if you can change her mood. Fung. I warrant you, let me alone: I'll put her out of her dumps. Sister, how like you my suit? Fal. O, you are a gallant in print now, brother." Fung. Faith, how like you the fashion? it is the last edition, I assure you. Fal. I cannot but like it to the desert. Fung. Troth, sister, I was fain to borrow these spurs, I have left my gown in gage for them, pray you lend me an angel. Fal. Now, beshrew my heart then. 3 Fal. O, you are a gallant in print now, brother.] You are now a perfect, complete gallant. Thus Chapman : ""Tis such a pick'd fellow, not a hair About his whole bulk, but it stands in print.” All Fools. And Massinger : Is he not, madam, A monsieur, now, in print?" Guardian. WHAL. |