our lordship's most
bounden, but, Your lordship's most laxative.

STUDIOSO.
It shall be so: see what a little vermin poverty altereth a whole milky
disposition.

PHILOMUSUS.
So then myself straight with revenge I'll sate.[69]

STUDIOSO.
Provoked patience grows intemperate.

ACTUS I, SCAENA 5.

_Enter_ RICHARDETTO, JAQUES, _Scholar learning French_.

JAQUES.
How now, my little knave? Quelle nouvelle, monsieur?

RICHARDETTO.
There's a fellow with a nightcap on his head, an urinal in his hand,
would fain speak with Master Theodore.

JAQUES.
Parle Francois, mon petit garcon.

RICHARDETTO.[70]
Ici un homme, avec le bonnet de nuit sur la tete, et un urinal en la
main, que veut parler avec Maistre Theodore.

JAQUES.
Fort bien.

THEODORE.
Jaques, a bonne heure.

[_Exeunt_.

ACTUS I., SCAENA 6.

FUROR POETICUS; _and presently after enters_ PHANTASMA.

FUROR POETICUS, _rapt with contemplation_.
Why, how now, pedant Phoebus?[71] are you smouching Thaly on her tender
lips? There, hoi! peasant, avaunt! Come, pretty short-nosed nymph. O
sweet Thalia, I do kiss thy foot. What, Clio? O sweet Clio! Nay,
prythee, do not weep, Melpomene. What, Urania, Polyhymnia, and Calliope!
let me do reverence to your deities.
[PHANTASMA _pulls him by the sleeve_.
I am your holy swain that, night and day,
Sit for your sakes, rubbing my wrinkled brow,
Studying a month for a epithet.
Nay, silver Cynthia, do not trouble me;
Straight will I thy Endymion's story write,
To which thou hastest me on day and night.
You light-skirt stars, this is your wonted guise,
By gloomy light perk out your doubtful heads;
But when Dan[72] Phoebus shows his flashing snout,
You are sky-puppies;[73] straight your light is out.

PHANTASMA.
So ho, Furor!
Nay, prythee, good Furor, in sober sadness--

FUROR.
Odi profanum vulgus, et arceo.

PHANTASMA.
Nay, sweet Furor,--ipsae te, Tityre, pinus--

FUROR.
Ipsi te fontes, ipsa haec arbusta vocarunt.
Who's that runs headlong on my quill's sharp point,
That, wearied of his life and baser breath,
Offers himself to an Iambic verse?

PHANTASMA.
Si, quoties peccant homines, sua fulmina mittat
Jupiter, exiguo tempore inermis erit.

FUROR.
What slimy, bold, presumptuous groom[74] is he,
Dares with his rude, audacious, hardy chat
Thus sever me from sky-bred[75] contemplation?

PHANTASMA.
_Carmina vel coelo possun