aleful Alecto, prythee, stay awhile,
Till with my verses I have rack'd his soul;
And when thy soul departs, a cock may be
No blank at all in hell's great lottery--
Shame sits and howls upon thy loathed grave,
And howling, vomits up in filthy guise
The hidden stories of thy villanies.

SIR RADERIC.
The devil, my masters, the devil in the likeness of a poet! Away,
my masters, away!

PHANTASMA.
_Arma, virumque cano.
Quem fugis, ah demens_?

AMORETTO.
Base dog, it is not the custom in Italy to draw upon every idle cur that
barks; and, did it stand with my reputation--O, well, go to; thank my
father for your lives.

INGENIOSO.
Fond gull, whom I would undertake to bastinado quickly, though there
were a musket planted in thy mouth, are not you the young drover of
livings Academico told me of, that haunts steeple fairs? Base worm,
must thou needs discharge thy carbine[116] to batter down the walls
of learning?

AMORETTO.
I think I have committed some great sin against my mistress, that I am
thus tormented with notable villains, bold peasants. I scorn, I scorn
them! [_Exit_.

FUROR _to_ RECORDER.
Nay, prythee, good sweet devil, do not thou part;
I like an honest devil, that will show
Himself in a true hellish, smoky hue:
How like thy snout is to great Lucifer's?
Such talents[117] had he, such a gleering eye,
And such a cunning sleight in villany.

RECORDER.
O, the impudency of this age! And if I take you in my quarters--
[_Exit_.

FUROR.
Base slave, I'll hang thee on a crossed rhyme,
And quarter--

INGENIOSO.
He is gone; Furor, stay thy fury.

SIR RADERIC'S PAGE.
I pray you, gentlemen, give three groats for a shilling.

AMORETTO'S PAGE.
What will you give me for a good old suit of apparel?

PHANTASMA.
_Habet et musca splenem, et formicae sua bilis inest_.

INGENIOSO.
Gramercy,[118] good lads. This is our share in happiness, to torment
the happy. Let's walk along and laugh at the jest; it's no staying here
long, lest Sir Raderic's army of bailiffs and clowns be sent to
apprehend us.

PHANTASMA.
_Procul hinc, procul ite, profani_.
I'll lash Apollo's self with jerking hand,
Unless he pawn his wit to buy me land.

ACTUS IV., SCAENA 3.

BURBAGE, KEMP.

BURBAGE.
Now, Will Kemp, if we can entertain these scholars at a low rate, it
will be well; they have oftentimes a good conceit in a part.

KEMP.
It's true, indeed, honest