Satiro-Mastix; or, the Vntrussing of the Humorous Poet
Part 2
Was das Aussehen der einzelnen Exemplare betrifft, so wäre zu erwähnen, dass Nº 1 und 3 ziemlich gut erhalten, letzteres aber stark beschmutzt ist. Nº 2, das mit anderen Stücken ~Dekkers~ zusammen gebunden ist, ist gleichfalls gut erhalten und zeigt nur in der Paginierung, die in der bekannten Weise A A2 A3. B B2... M3 durchgeführt ist, eine kleine Abweichung, insofern C3 beim Drucke offenbar ausgesprungen ist und irrtümlich durch C2 ersetzt wurde. Nº 4 ist hinsichtlich der Deutlichkeit des Druckes vielleicht das beste. Es enthält Notizen von der Hand Malones (?). Auf dem Titelblatt ist der Namenszug ~Dekker’s~ oben auf einem Stückchen Papier aufgeklebt. Wer mag der Schreiber desselben sein?
Was die Vignetten des alten Druckes betrifft, so wäre zu sagen: pag. 1 weist einen Kreis mit ornamentalen Verzierungen auf; p. 5 und 9 in der Mitte die über Wolken schwebende Sonne, rechts und links davon je einen Amor; p. 6 eine Maske mit ornamentalem Schmuck, und p. 76 Maske mit Arabesken.
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Von den späteren Ausgaben des _Satiromastix_ wurde die erste veranstaltet von ~Hawkins~ in _The Origin of the English Drama_, Oxford 1773, vol. III. Der in der Orthographie modernisierte und mit einigen Anmerkungen versehene Text ist nicht ganz so sorgfältig wiedergegeben worden, wie man es bei dem sonst gewissenhaften Herausgeber erwartet. Es fehlen nämlich die Zeilen 119 und 1998-2006, was im ersteren Falle auch eine Verschiebung der Reden zur Folge hatte.
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Die zweite finden wir in den _Dramatic Works of Thomas Dekker_ [ed. R. H. Shepherd], London 1873 (Pearson) vol. I. Dass in dieser Ausgabe der ~Dekker~’schen Werke die Orthographie oft unbewusst modernisiert und mancher neue Druckfehler dazu gekommen ist, ist bekannt, und auch der _Satiromastix_ ist hievon nicht verschont geblieben.
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Ferner finden sich Bruchstücke, die nahezu die Hälfte des Spieles ausmachen, und welche durch Inhaltsangaben der übersprungenen Stellen verbunden sind, bei ~Henry Morley~, i. s. _English Plays_, London, s. a., p. 198-209. Abgedruckt wurden die ZZ. 262-574, 580-623, 628-682, 1392-1570, 1625-1725, 1796-2080, 2397-2656. Der Text ist modernisiert, und kräftige Verwünschungen oder andere Ausdrücke, an denen man Anstoss nehmen könnte, sind entweder ganz ausgelassen oder durch unschuldigere Redewendungen ersetzt.
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Auch ~W. H. Williams~ hat in seinen _Specimens of the Elizabethan Drama_, Oxford 1905, aus _Satiromastix_ Act. I. Sc. II in modernisiertem Text abgedruckt und zwar ZZ. 261-547 unter Auslassung der anstössigen Stellen.
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Bei der Herstellung der vorliegenden Ausgabe wurde der Text der Q1 zu Grunde gelegt und die tatsächlichen Verbesserungen von Q2 berücksichtigt. Die Lesart und die Orthographie der Quarto wurde überall, wo nicht offenkundige Druckfehler vorlagen, aufs Sorgfältigste beibehalten. Auch die Interpunktion, selbst wenn sie mangelhaft war, wurde getreu wiedergegeben und nur in den notwendigsten Fällen geändert. Nicht notiert wurden die Stellen, in welchen statt der Kursiv-Lettern Antiqua in die Personenbezeichnungen eingedrungen sind. Wegen der übrigen Änderungen bez. Verbesserungsvorschläge des Textes muss ich auf die Abschnitte «Text-Noten» und «Anmerkungen» verweisen.
Satiro-mastix.
OR
_The vntrussing of the Humorous Poet._
_As it hath bin presented publikely_, by the Right Honorable, the Lord Chamberlaine his Seruants; and priuately, by the Children of Paules.
By _Thomas Dekker_.
_Non recito cuiquam nisi_ Amicis _idq; coactus_.
LONDON, Printed for _Edward White_, and are to bee solde at his shop, neere the little North doore of Paules Church, at the signe of the Gun. 1602.
_Dramatis personæ._
1. William Rufus. 2. Sir Walter Terill. 3. Sir Rees ap Vaughan. 4. S. Quintilian Shorthose. 5. Sir Adam Prickshaft. 6. Blunt. 7. Crispinus. 8. Demetrius Fannius. 9. Tucca. 10. Horace. 11. Asinius Bubo. 12. Peter Flash. 13. Cælestine. 14. Mistris Miniuer. 15. Ladies.
Ad Detractorem.
_Non potes in Nugas dicere plura meas, Jpse ego quam dixi.--Qui se mirantur, in illos Virus habe: Nos hæc nouimus esse nihil._
_To the World._
World, _I was once resolu’d to bee round with thee, because I know tis thy fashion to bee round with euery bodie: but the winde shifting his point, the Veine turn’d: yet because thou wilt sit as Judge of all matters (though for thy labour thou |5| wear’st_ Midasses _eares, and art_ Monstrum horrendum, informe: Ingens cui lumen ademptum; _whose great_ Poliphemian _eye is put out) I care not much if I make description (before thy_ Vniuersality) _of that terrible_ Poetomachia, _lately commenc’d betweene_ Horace the second, _and a band of leane-witted_ Poetasters. _They haue bin at high |10| wordes, and so high, that the ground could not serue them, but_ (_for want of_ Chopins) _haue stalk’t vpon Stages_.
Horace _hal’d his_ Poetasters _to the Barre, the_ Poetasters _vntruss’d_ Horace: _how worthily eyther, or how wrongfully_, (World) _leaue it to the Jurie_: Horace _(questionles) made himselfe beleeue, that his_ |15| Burgonian wit _might desperately challenge all commers, and that none durst take vp the foyles against him: It’s likely. if he had not so beleiu’d, he had not bin so deceiu’d, for hee was answer’d at his owne weapon: And if before_ Apollo _himselfe_ (_who is_ Coronator Poetarum) _an_ Inquisition _should be taken touching this lamentable merry murdering of Innocent |20| Poetry: all mount_ Helicon _to_ Bun-hill, _it would be found on the_ Poetasters _side_ Se defendendo. _Notwithstanding the Doctors thinke otherwise. I meete one, and he runnes full Butt at me with his Satires hornes, for that in vntrussing_ Horace, _I did onely whip his fortunes, and condition of life, where the more noble_ Reprehension _had bin of his_ mindes |25| Deformitie, _whose greatnes if his_ Criticall Lynx _had with as narrow eyes, obseru’d in himselfe, as it did little spots vpon others, without all disputation_: Horace _would not haue left_ Horace _out of_ Euery man in’s Hvmour. _His fortunes? why does not he taxe that onely in others? Read his_ Arraignement _and see. A second Cat-a-mountaine mewes, and calles |30| me Barren, because my braines could bring foorth no other_ Stigmaticke _than_ Tucca, _whome_ Horace _had put to making, and begot to my hand: but I wonder what language_ Tucca _would haue spoke, if honest Capten_ Hannam _had bin borne without a tongue? Ist not as lawfull then for mee to imitate_ Horace, _as_ Horace Hannam?
|35| _ Besides, If I had made an opposition of any other new-minted fellow, (of what Test so euer) hee had bin out-fac’d, and out-weyed by a settled former approbation: neyther was it much improper to set the same dog vpon_ Horace, _whom_ Horace _had set to worrie others_.
_I could heere (eeuen with the feather of my pen) wipe off other ridiculous |40| imputations: but my best way to answer them, is to laugh at them: onely thus much I protest (and sweare by the diuinest part of true Poesie) that (howsoeuer the limmes of my naked lines may bee and I know haue bin, tortur’d on the racke) they are free from conspiring the least disgrace to any man, but onely to our new_ Horace; _neyther should this ghost of_ Tucca, |45| _haue walkt vp and downe Poules Church-yard, but that hee was raiz’d vp (in print) by newe_ Exorcismes. World, _if thy_ Hugenes _will beleiue this: doe, if not, I care not: for I dedicate my booke not to thy_ Greatnes, _but to the_ Greatnes of thy scorne: _Defying which, let that mad Dog_ Detraction _bite till his teeth bee worne to the stumps_: Enuy _feede thy |50| Snakes so fat with poyson till they burst_: World, _let all thy Adders shoote out their_ Hidra-headed-forked _Stinges_, Ha, Ha, Nauci; _if none will take my part, (as I desire none) yet I thanke thee (thou true_ Venusian Horace) _for these good wordes thou giu’st me_: Populus me sibylat at mihi plaudo. World _farewell_.
Malim Conuiuis quam placuisse Cocis.
_Ad Lectorem_
In steed of the Trumpets sounding thrice, before the Play begin: it shall not be amisse (for him that will read) first to beholde this short Comedy of Errors, and where the greatest |60| enter, to giue them in stead of a hisse, a gentle correction.
In letter C. Page. I. for, Whom I adorn’d as Subiects: Read, Whom I ador’d as, &c.
In Letter C Pa. 3. for, Ile starte thence poore: Read, Ile starue their poore, &c.
|65| In Letter C Pa. 6. for, her white cheekes with her dregs and bottome: Read, her white cheekes with the dregs and, &c.
In the same Page, for, Strike off the head of Sin: Read, Strike off the swolne head, &c.
In the same Page, for, that of fiue hundred, foure hundred fiue |70| Read, that of fiue hundred: foure.
In Letter G. pa. 1. for, this enterchanging of languages: Read, this enterchange of language.
In Letter L. pa. 5 for, And stinging insolence should: Read, And stinking insolence, &c.
_The Vntrussing of the Humorous Poet._
_Enter two Gentlewomen strewing of flowers._
1. Come bedfellow come, strew apace, strew, strew: in good troth tis pitty that these flowers must be trodden vnder feete as |80| they are like to bee anon.
2. Pitty, alacke pretty heart, thou art sorry to see any good thing fall to the ground: pitty? no more pitty, then to see an Innocent Maydenhead deliuered vp to the ruffling of her new-wedded husband. Beauty is made for vse, and hee that will not |85| vse a sweete soule well, when she is vnder his fingers, I pray _Venus_ he may neuer kisse a faire and a delicate, soft, red, plump-lip.
1. Amen, and that’s torment enough.
2. Pitty? come foole, fling them about lustily; flowers neuer |90| dye a sweeter death, than when they are smoother’d to death in a Louers bosome, or else paue the high wayes, ouer which these pretty, simpring, setting things, call’d brides, must trippe.
1. I pray thee tell mee, why doe they vse at weddings to furnish all places thus, with sweet hearbes and flowers?
|95| 2. One reason is, because tis----ô a most sweet thing to lye with a man.
1. I thinke tis a O more more more more sweet to lye with a woman.
2. I warrant all men are of thy minde: another reason is, because |100| they sticke like the scutchions of madame chastity, on the sable ground, weeping in their stalkes, and wincking with theyr yellow-sunke eyes, as loath to beholde the lamentable fall of a Maydenhead: what senceles thing in all the house, that is not nowe as melancholy, as a new set-vp Schoolemaster?
|105| 1. Troth I am.
2. Troth I thinke thou mournst, because th’ast mist thy turne, I doe by the quiuer of _Cupid_: you see the torches melt themselues away in teares: the instruments weare theyr heart stringes out for sorrow: and the Siluer Ewers weepe most pittifull Rosewater: |110| fiue or sixe payre of the white innocent wedding gloues, did in my sight choose rather to be torne in peeces than to be drawne on; and looke this Rosemary, (a fatall hearbe) this dead-mans nose-gay, has crept in amongst these flowers to decke th’ inuisible coarse of the Brides Maydenhead, when (oh how |115| much do we poore wenches suffer) about eleuen or twelue, or one a clock at midnight at furthest, it descends to purgatory, to giue notice that _Cælestine_ (hey ho) will neuer come to lead Apes in hell.
1. I see by thy sighing thou wilt not.
|120| 2. If I had as many Mayden-heads, as I have hayres on my head, Ide venture them all rather then to come into so hot a place; prethy strew thou, for my little armes are weary.
1. I am sure thy little tongue is not.
2. No faith that’s like a woman bitten [tw] fleas, it neuer lyes |125| stil: fye vpont, what a miserable thing tis to be a noble Bride, there’s such delayes in rising, in fitting gownes, in tyring, in pinning Rebatoes, in poaking, in dinner, in supper, in Reuels, & last of all in cursing the poore nodding fidlers, for keeping Mistris Bride so long vp from sweeter Reuels; that, oh I could |130| neuer endure to put it vp without much bickering.
1. Come th’art an odde wench, hark, harke, musicke? nay then the Bride’s vp.
2. Is she vp? nay then I see she has been downe: Lord ha mercy on vs, we women fall and fall still, and when we haue |135| husbands we play upon them like Virginall Jackes, they must ryse and fall to our humours, or else they’l neuer get any good straines of musicke out of vs; but come now, haue at it for a mayden-head.
_strew._
_As they strew, enter Sir_ Quintilian Shorthose _with_ Peeter Flash |140| _and two or three seruingmen, with lights._
_Sir quin._ Come knaues, night begins to be like my selfe, an olde man; day playes the theefe and steales vpon vs; O well done wenches, well done, well done, you haue couered all the stony way to church with flowers, tis well, tis well, ther’s an |145| Embleame too, to be made out of these flowers and stones, but you are honest wenches, in, in, in.
2. When we come to your yeares, we shal learne what honesty is, come pew-fellow.
_Exeunt._
_Sir quin._ Is the musicke come yet? so much to do! Ist come?
|150| _Omnes._ Come sir.
_Sir quin._ Haue the merry knaues pul’d their fiddle cases ouer their instruments eares?
_Flash._ As soone as ere they entred our gates, the noyse went, before they came nere the great Hall, the faint hearted villiacoes |155| sounded at least thrice.
_Sir quin._ Thou shouldst haue reuiu’d them with a Cup of burnt wine and sugar; sirra, you, horse-keeper, goe, bid them curry theyr strings: Is my daughter vp yet?
_Exit._
_Flash._ Vp sir? she was seene vp an houre agoe.
|160| _Sir quin._ Shee’s an early sturrer, ah sirra.
_Flash._ Shee’l be a late sturrer soone at night sir.
_Sir Quint._ Goe too _Peeter Flash_, you haue a good sodaine flash of braine, your wittes husky, and no maruaile, for tis like one of our Comedians beardes, still ith stubble: about your busines, |165| and looke you be nymble to flye from the wine, or the nymble wine will catch you by the nose.
_Flash._ If your wine play with my nose Sir, Ile knocke’s coxcombe.
_Sir quin._ Doe _Peeter_, and weare it for thy labour; |170| Is my Sonne in Law Sir _Walter Terell_ ready yet?
_Omnes._ Ready sir.
_Exit another._
_Sir Quin._ One of you attend him: Stay _Flash_, where’s the note of the guestes you haue inuited?
_Flash._ Here Sir, Ile pull all your guestes out of my bosome; |175| the men that will come, I haue crost, but all the Gentlewomen haue at the tayle of the last letter a pricke, because you may read them the better.
_Sir quint._ My spectacles, lyght, lyght, knaues: Sir _Adam Prickshaft_, thou hast crost him, heele come.
|180| _Flash._ I had much a doe sir, to draw Sir _Adam Prickeshaft_ home, because I tolde him twas early, but heele come.
_Sir quint._ Justice _Crop_, what will he come?
_Flash._ He took phisicke yesterday sir.
_Sir quint._ Oh then _Crop_ cannot come.
|185| _Flash._ O Lord yes, sir yes, twas but to make more roome in his Crop for your good cheare, _Crop_ will come.
_Sir quint._ Widdow _Mineuer_.
_Flash._ Shee’s prickt you see sir, and will come.
_Sir quint._ Sir _Vaughan ap Rees_, oh hee’s crost twise, so, so, so, |190| then all these Ladyes, that fall downewardes heere, will come I see, and all these Gentlemen that stand right before them.
_Flash._ All wil come.
_Sir quint._ Well sayd, heere, wryte them out agen, and put the men from the women, and _Peeter_, when we are at Church bring |195| wine and cakes, be light & nimble good _Flash_, for your burden will be but light.
_Enter sir_ Adam _a light before him._
_Sir Adam Prickeshaft._ God morrow, god morrow: goe, in, in, in, to the Bridegroome, taste a cup of burnt wine this morning, |200| twill make you flye the better all the day after.
_Sir Adam._ You are an early styrrer Sir _Quintilian Shorthose_.
_Sir qui._ I am so, it behoues me at my daughters wedding, in, in, in; fellow put out thy torch, and put thy selfe into my buttery, the torch burnes ill in thy hand, the wine will burne better |205| in thy belly, in, in.
_Flash._ Ware there, roome for Sir _Adam Prickeshaft_: your Worship--
_Exit._
_Enter_ Sir Vaughan _and Mistris_ Mineuer.
|210| _Sir quin._ Sir _Vaughan_ and Widdow _Mineuer_, welcome, welcome, a thousand times: my lips Mistris Widdow shall bid you God morrow, in, in, one to the Bridegroome, the other to the Bride.
_Sir Vaughan_. Why then Sir _quiontilian Shorthose_, I will step into mistris Bride, and Widdow _Mineuer_, shall goe vpon M. |215| Bridegroome.
_Mineu._ No pardon, for by my truely Sir _Vaughan_, Ile ha no dealings with any M. Bridegroomes.
_Sir quin._ In widdow in, in honest knight in.
_Sir Vaug._ I will vsher you mistris widdow.
|220| _Flash._ Light there for Sir _Vaughan_; your good Worship--
_Sir Vaug._ Drinke that shilling Ma. _Peeter Flash_, in your guttes and belly.
_Fla._ Ile not drinke it downe sir, but Ile turne it into that which shall run downe, oh merrily!
_Exit Sir Vaughan._
|225| _Enter_ Blunt, Crispinus, Demetrius, _and others with Ladies, lights before them._
_Sir quin._ God morrow to these beauties, and Gentlemen, that haue Vshered this troope of Ladyes to my daughters wedding, welcome, welcome all; musick? nay then the bridegroome’s |230| comming, where are these knaues heere?
_Flash._ All here sir.
_Enter_ Terill, Sir Adam, Sir Vaughan, Celestine, Mineuer _and other Ladies and attendants with lights._
_Teri._ God morrow Ladies and fayre troopes of gallants, that |235| haue depos’d the drowzy King of sleep, _to Crowne our_ traine with your rich presences, _I salute you all_;
Each one share thanks from thanks in generall.
_Cris._ God morrow M. Bride-groome, mistris Bride.
_Omnes._ God morrow M. Bride-groome.
|240| _Ter._ Gallants I shal intreate you to prepare, For Maskes and Reuels to defeate the night, Our Soueraigne will in person grace our marriage.
_Sir quin._ What will the king be heer?
_Ter._ Father he will.
|245| _Sir quin._ Where be these knaues? More Rose-mary and gloues, gloues, gloues: choose Gentlemen; Ladyes put on soft skins vpon the skin of softer hands; so, so: come mistris Bride take you your place, the olde men first, and then the Batchelors; Maydes with the Bride, Widdows and wiues together, the priest’s |250| at Church, tis time that we march thether.
_Ter._ Deare _Blunt_ at our returne from Church, take paines to step to _Horace_, for our nuptiall songs; now Father when you please.
_Sir quin._ Agreed, set on, come good Sir _Vaughan_, must we lead |255| the way?
_Sir Vau._ _Peeter_ you goe too fast for Mistris pride: so, gingerly, gingerly; I muse why Sir _Adam Prickeshaft_ sticks so short behinde?
_Sir quin._ He follows close, not too fast, holde vp knaues, |260| Thus we lead youth to church, they vs to graues.
_Exeunt._
_Horrace sitting in a study behinde a Curtaine, a candle by him burning, bookes lying confusedly:_ to himselfe.
_Hor._ To thee whose fore-head swels with Roses, |265| Whose most haunted bower Giues life & sent to euery flower, Whose most adored name incloses, Things abstruse, deep and diuine, Whose yellow tresses shine, |270| Bright as _Eoan_ fire. O me thy Priest inspire. For I to thee and thine immortall name, In--in--in golden tunes, For I to thee and thine immortall name-- |275| In--sacred raptures flowing, flowing, swimming, swimming: In sacred raptures swimming, Immortal name, game, dame, tame, lame, lame, lame, Pux, hath, shame, proclaime, oh-- In Sacred raptures flowing, will proclaime, not-- |280| O me thy Priest inspyre! For I to thee and thine immortall name, In flowing numbers fild with spright and flame, Good, good, in flowing numbers fild with spright & flame.
_Enter_ Asinius Bubo.
|285| _Asini._ _Horace_, _Horace_, my sweet ningle, is alwayes in labour when I come, the nine Muses be his midwiues I pray _Jupiter_: Ningle.
_Ho._ In flowing numbers fild with sprite and flame, To thee.
|290| _Asini._ To me? I pledge thee sweet Ningle, by _Bacchus_ quaffing boule, I thought th’adst drunke to me.
_Hor._ It must haue been in the deuine lycour of _Pernassus_, then in which, I know you would scarce haue pledg’d me, but come sweet roague, sit, sit, sit.
|295| _Asini._ Ouer head and eares yfaith? I haue a sacke-full of newes for thee, thou shalt plague some of them, if God send vs life and health together.
_Hor._ Its no matter, empty thy sacke anon, but come here first honest roague, come.
|300| _Asini._ Ist good, Ist good, pure _Helicon_ ha?
_Hor._ Dam me ift be not the best that euer came from me, if I haue any iudgement, looke sir, tis an _Epithalamium_ for Sir _Walter Terrels_ wedding, my braines haue giuen assault to it but this morning.
|305| _Asin._ Then I hope to see them flye out like gun-powder ere night.
_Hor._ Nay good roague marke, for they are the best lynes that euer I drew.
_Asin._ Heer’s the best leafe in England, but on, on, Ile but |310| tune this Pipe.
_Hor._ Marke, _to thee whose fore-head swels with Roses_.
_Asin._ O sweet, but will there be no exceptions taken, because fore-head and swelling comes together?
_Hor._ Push away, away, its proper, besides tis an elegancy to |315| say the fore head swels.
_Asin._ Nay an’t be proper, let it stand for Gods loue.
_Hor._ Whose most haunted bower, Giues life and sent to euery flower, Whose most adored name incloses, |320| Things abstruse, deep and diuine. Whose yellow tresses shine, Bright as _Eoan_ fire.
_Asini._ O pure, rich, ther’s heate in this, on, on.
_Hor._ Bright as _Eoan_ fire, |325| O me thy Priest inspire! For I to thee and thine immortall name ---- _marke this_. In flowing numbers fild with spryte and flame.
_Asini._ I mary, ther’s spryte and flame in this.
_Hor._ A pox, a this Tobacco.
|330| _Asin._ Wod this case were my last, if I did not marke, nay all’s one, I haue alwayes a consort of Pypes about me, myne Ingle is all fire and water; I markt, by this Candle (which is none of Gods Angels) I remember, you started back at sprite and flame.
_Hor._ For I to thee and thine immortall name, |335| In flowing numbers fild with sprite and flame, To thee Loues mightiest King, _Himen_ ô _Himen_, does our chaste Muse sing.
_Asin._ Ther’s musicke in this.
_Hor._ Marke now deare _Asinius_. |340| Let these virgins quickly see thee, Leading out the Bride, Though theyr blushing cheekes they hide, Yet with kisses will they fee thee, To vntye theyr Virgin zone, |345| They grieue to lye alone.
_Asini._ So doe I by _Venus_.
_Hor._ Yet with kisses wil they fee thee, my Muse has marcht (deare roague) no farder yet: but how ist? how ist? nay prethee good _Asinius_ deale plainly, doe not flatter me, come, how?--
|350| _Asin._ If I haue any iudgement:
_Hor._ Nay look you Sir, and then follow a troope of other rich and labour’d conceipts, oh the end shall be admirable! but how ist sweet _Bubo_, how, how?
_Asini._ If I have any Iudgement, tis the best stuffe that euer |355| dropt from thee.
_Hor._ You ha seene my Acrosticks?
_Asi._ Ile put vp my pypes and then Ile see any thing.
_Hor._ Th’ast a Coppy of mine Odes to, hast not Bubo?
_Asi._ Your odes? O that which you spake by word a mouth at |360| th’ ordinary, when Musco the gull cryed Mew at it.
_Hor._ A pox on him poore braineles Rooke: and you remember, I tolde him his wit lay at pawne with his new Sattin sute, and both would be lost, for not fetching home by a day.
_Asi._ At which he would faine ha blusht but that his painted |365| cheekes would not let him.