ACT . I. S CEN. III.

To them Nicias .

— — — Now Fellow!
Nic. I hope your mind is chang'd, you will not lay
Such an Injunction on your willing Servant:
You punish, not command; what could you worse,
If you did hate me?
Pyl. Dare you question what
We please to will? or carry't, or you come not
So near hereafter, as to be commanded
Again by Pyle .
Nic. 'Twere t'incense the Tyrant,

ACT I. S CEN . II.

Pyle, Elpidia.

Pyl. Three sent besides? have I so many Rivalls?
I'd thought I'd been the Phaenix of the Citty:
But men have left to judge, not I to be
What I was ever, fair, and smooth, and handsome;
Look we not bright Elpidia , and Maiestique?
Elpi. Truly sweet Mistris — —
Pyl. How, you paltry Baggage?
Sweet Mistris? when we only want the Tyrants
Approving to be Queen? call us your Grace.

ACT. I. SCEN. I.

Scedasus, Patacion, Epigenes, Terpander,
Eudemus, Nicias with the Pictures of three
Byzantine Virgins.

Sced. But there's no other way.
Epi. They must be sent
Or we must die.
Pat. Wee're no such subtile feeders
As to make Meals on Air, sup on a Blast,
And think a fresh Gale Second Course.
Terp. No verily; Let's see thy Pictures, Nicias . I would the Tyrant had a mind to all the

May it please your Majesty,

The first Draught of this Trifle was so ill,
That 'twas the Crime, not Issue of the Quill,
Shape being wanting, to avoid the shame
The Spunge was destin'd Critick, or the Flame;
My Mercy finding out this way alone
To mend it with one Blot, or make it none.
But touch'd with your Command, my Muse, like Steel
Kiss'd by the Loadstone, did new Motion feel;
Whence this redeem'd from Fire unto your Eye
(Only perhaps to perish Royally)
Fears 'tis no Pardon, but Reprivall, and

Ho, Porter! Sweep the drawing-room
With all your might and main
And sterilize each cloth and broom —
Babette is on the train.

Ho, Engineer! Keep day and night
A steady eye and brain,
And read the semaphores aright —
Babette is on the train.

Conductor, scan your orders well,
And scan them once again.
Let tower unto tower tell,
Babette is on the train.

To-day, while sitting up in bed,
I tumbled forward on my head,
And then fell out upon the floor,
A thing I never did before.

My! what a dreadful fuss it made!
For everybody was afraid
I'd hurt my head or sprained an arm,
Or done myself some other harm.

I wasn't hurt the leastest bit,
But Mother almost had a fit,
And Father said, " Well, soon or late!
That's over with, at any rate! "

Shap. We have escap'd the Law, but yet do feare
Something that's harder answer'd, your sharp Eare.
O for a present slight now to beguile
That, and deceive you but of one good smile!
'Tis that must free us; th' Author dares not look
For that good fortune to be sav'd by's Book.
To leave this blessed soyle is no great woe;
Our griefe's in leaving you, that make it so.
For if you shall call in those Beames you lent,
'Twould ev'n at Home create a Banishment.

ACT V. S CEN. V.

Shape, Slicer, Hearsay.

Sha. Lye thou there Watchman; how the knave that's look'd for
May often lurck under the Officer!
Invention I applaud thee.
Hear. London aire
Me thinks begins to be too hot for us.
Slic. There is no longer tarrying here, let's swear
Fidelity to one another, and
So resolve for New England.
Hear. 'Tis but getting
A little Pigeon-hole reformed Ruff — —

ACT . V. S CEN . IV.

Sir Thomas Bitefig, Meanwell, Constable, Watchmen.

Sir Tho . What gone? upon my life they did mistrust.
Mean . They are so beaten that they smell an Officer,
As Crows do Powder.
Sr Tho . Watchman call you forth
The Mistris of the house, Imprimis , for
They have their lurking hole near hand most certain.
Mo. Denuncio vobis gaudium magnum ,
Robertus de Tinea electus est in sedem Hospitalem,

Hearsay, Slicer , and Shape in his Confessors habit.

Hear. Come my good Vulture speak; what prey? what mirth?
Slic. What income my dear holiness? what sport?
Sha. Give me the Chair; imagine me the Knight
(When I sit down,) and (when I stand) the Confessor.
As he is thus acting , Meanwell and Sir Thomas discover themselves above .
Thus I come in peace to thy soul good Son,
('Tis you must give it Father; I am ill,
I'm very ill; fit only now for Heav'n.