vate butcher; and but for the worshipful credit
of the place and office wherein I now stand and live, I would not hazard
my worshipful apparel with a suppository or a glister: but for the
countenancing of the place, I must go oftener to stool; for, as a great
gentleman told me, of good experience, that it was the chief note of a
magistrate not to go to the stool without a physician.

THEODORE.
Ah, vous etes un gentilhomme, vraiment.--What, ho, Jaques! Jaques,
donnez-vous un fort gentil purgation for Monsieur Burgess.

JAQUES.
Votre tres-humble serviteur, a votre commandment.

THEODORE.
Donnez-vous un gentil purge a Monsieur Burgess.--I have considered of
the crasis and syntoma of your disease, and here is un fort gentil
purgation per evacuationem excrementorum, as we physicians use to
parley.

BURGESS.
I hope, Master Doctor, you have a care of the country's officer. I tell
you, I durst not have trusted myself with every physician; and yet I am
not afraid for myself, but I would not deprive the town of so careful a
magistrate.

THEODORE.
O Monsieur, I have a singular care of your _valetudo_. It is requisite
that the French physicians be learned and careful; your English
velvet-cap is malignant and envious.

BURGESS.
Here is, Master Doctor, fourpence--your due, and eightpence--my bounty.
You shall hear from me, good Master Doctor; farewell, farewell, good
Master Doctor.

THEODORE.
Adieu, good Monsieur; adieu, good sir Monsieur. _Exit_ BURGESS.
Then burst with tears, unhappy graduate;
Thy fortunes still wayward and backward been;
Nor canst thou thrive by virtue nor by sin.

STUDIOSO.
O, how it grieves my vexed soul to see
Each painted ass in chair of dignity!
And yet we grovel on the ground alone,
Running through every trade, yet thrive by none:
More we must act in this life's tragedy.

PHILOMUSUS.
Sad is the plot, sad the catastrophe.

STUDIOSO.
Sighs are the chorus in our tragedy.

PHILOMUSUS.
And rented thoughts continual actors be.[79]

STUDIOSO.
Woe is the subject, Phil.;[80] earth the loath'd stage
Whereon we act this feigned personage;
Most like[81] barbarians the spectators be,
That sit and laugh at our calamity.

PHILOMUSUS.
Bann'd be those hours when, 'mongst the learned throng,
By Granta's muddy bank we whilome sung!

STUDIOSO.
Bann'd be that hill, which learned wits adore,
Where erst we spent our stock and little store!

PHILOMUSUS.
Bann'd be those musty mews, where we hav