and abstruse meanings out of any subject, be it never so
conspicuous and innocently delivered. But to such, where'er they sit
concealed, let them know, the author defies them and their writing-tables;
and hopes no sound or safe judgment will infect itself with their
contagious comments, who, indeed, come here only to pervert and poison the
sense of what they hear, and for nought else.

ENTER CAVALIER SHIFT, WITH TWO SI-QUISSES (BILLS) IN HIS HAND.
MIT. Stay, what new mute is this, that walks so suspiciously?

COR. O, marry, this is one, for whose better illustration, we must desire
you to presuppose the stage, the middle aisle in Paul's, and that, the west
end of it.

MIT. So, sir, and what follows?

COR. Faith, a whole volume of humour, and worthy the unclasping.

MIT. As how? What name do you give him first?

COR. He hath shift of names, sir: some call him Apple-John, some signior
Whiffe; marry, his main standing name is cavalier Shirt: the rest are but
as clean shirts to his natures.

MIT. And what makes he in Paul's now?

COR. Troth, as you see, for the advancement of a 'si quis', or two;
wherein he has so varied himself, that if any of 'em take, he may hull up
and down in the humorous world a little longer.

MIT. It seems then he bears a very changing sail?

COR. O, as the wind, sir: here comes more.

ACT III

SCENE I. -- THE MIDDLE AISLE OF ST. PAUL'S.

SHIFT. [COMING FORWARD.] This is rare, I have set up my bills without
discovery.

[ENTER ORANGE.
ORANGE. What, signior Whiffe! what fortune has brought you into these
west parts?

SHIFT. Troth, signior, nothing but your rheum; I have been taking an ounce
of tobacco hard by here, with a gentleman, and I am come to spit private in
Paul's. 'Save you, sir.

ORANGE. Adieu, good signior Whiffe.
[PASSES ONWARD.

[ENTER CLOVE.
CLOVE. Master Apple-John! you are well met; when shall we sup together,
and laugh, and be fat with those good wenches, ha?

SHIFT. Faith, sir, I must now leave you, upon a few humours and occasions;
but when you please, sir.
[EXIT.

CLOVE. Farewell, sweet Apple-John! I wonder there are no more store of
gallants here.

MIT. What be these two, signior?

COR. Marry, a couple, sir, that are mere strangers to the whole scope of
our play; only come to walk a turn o