atastrophe.
This grave and sad, distain'd with brinish tears;
That light and quick with wrinkled laughter[281] painted;
This deals with nobles, kings, and emperors,
Full of great fears, great hopes, great enterprises.
This other trades with men of mean condition:
His projects small, small hopes, and dangers little.
This gorgeous-broider'd with rich sentences:
That fair and purfled round with merriments.
Both vice detect and virtue beautify,
By being death's mirror, and life's looking-glass.

COM[282]. _Salutem primum jam a principio propitiam.
Mihi atque vobis, spectatores, nuntio_[283]--

PHA. Pish, pish, this is a speech with no action; let's hear Terence,
_Quid igitur faciam, &c_.

COM. _Quid igitur faciam? non eam? ne nunc quidem,
Cum arcessor ultro?[284]

PHA. Fie, fie, fie, no more action! lend me your bays, do it thus--_Quid
igitur, &c_.
[_He acts it after the old kind of pantomimic action_.

COM. SEN. I should judge this action, Phantastes, most absurd, unless we
should come to a comedy, as gentlewomen to the Commencement[285], only
to see men speak.

PHA. In my imagination, 'tis excellent; for in this kind the hand, you
know, is harbinger to the tongue, and provides the words a lodging in
the ears of the auditors.

COM. SEN. Auditus, it is now time you make us acquainted with the
quality of the house you keep in, for our better help in judgment.

AUD. Upon the sides of fair mount Cephalon
Have I two houses passing human skill:
Of finest matter by Dame Nature wrought,
Whose learned fingers have adorn'd the same
With gorgeous porches of so strange a form,
That they command the passengers to stay.
The doors whereof in hospitality
Nor day nor night are shut, but, open wide,
Gently invite all comers; whereupon
They are named the open ears of Cephalon.
But lest some bolder sound should boldly rush,
And break the nice composure of the work,
The skilful builder wisely hath enrang'd
An entry from each port with curious twines
And crook'd meanders, like the labyrinth
That Daedalus fram'd t'enclose the Minotaur;
At th'end whereof is plac'd a costly portal,
Resembling much the figure of a drum,
Granting slow entrance to a private closet.
Where daily, with a mallet in my hand,
I set and frame all words and sounds that come
Upon an anvil, and so make them fit
For the periwinkling porch[286], that winding leads
From my close chamber to your lordship's cell.
Thither do I, chief justice