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INDVCTION.
  

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INDVCTION.

Before the Musicke souuds for the Acte: Enter Atticus, Doricus, & Phylomuse, they sit a good while on the Stage before the Candles are lighted, talking together, & on suddeine Doricus speakes.
Enter Tier-man with lights.
Dor.

O fie some lights, sirs fie, let there be no deeds of darknesse
done among vs.—I so, so, pree thee Tyer-man
set Sineor Snuffe a fier, he's a chollerick Gentleman, he will take
Pepper in the nose instantly, feare not, fore Heauen I wonder
they tollerate him so nere the Stage.


Phy.

Faith Doricus, thy braine boiles, keele it, keele it, or all
the fatt's in the fire: in the name of Phœbus, what merry Genius
haunts thee to day, thy lips play with Feathers.


Dor.

Troth they should pick straws before they should be idle,


Atti,

But why, but why doost thou wonder they dare suffer
Snuffe so neere the Stage?


Dor.

O well recald, marry Sir sineor Snuffe, Mounsieur Mew,
and Caualiero Blirt, are three of the most to bee fear'd Auditors
that euer—


Phy.

Pish for shame, stint thy idle chatte.


Dor.

Nay dreame what-so-ere your fantasie swimmes on
Phylomuse, I protest in the loue you haue procured mee to beare
your friend the Author, I am vehemently fearefull, this threefold
halter of contempt that choakes the breath of witte, these
aforesaid tria sunt omnia, Knights of the Meaw will sitt heauie
on the skirtes of his Sceanes, if—


Phy.
If what? beleeue it Doricus his spirit,
Is higher blouded then to quake and pant
At the report of Skoffes Artillery;
Shall he be creast-falne, if some looser braine,
In flux of witte vnciuely befilth
His slight composures? shall his bosome faint
If drunken Censure belch out sower breath,
From Hatreds surfet on his labours front?
Nay say some halfe a dozen rancorous breasts
Should plant them-selues on purpose to discharge


Impostum'd malice on his latest Sceane
Shall his resolue be struck through with the blirt,
Of a goose breath? What imperfect borne?
What short liu'd Meteor? what cold harted Snow
Would melt in dolor? cloud his mudded eyes
Sinck downe his iawes, if that some iuicles husk
Some boundlesse ignorance should on sudden shoote
His grosse knob'd burbolt, with thats not so good,
Mew, blirt, ha, ha, light Chaffy stuff?
Why gentle spirits what loose wauing fane?
What any thing would thus be skru'd about
With each slight touch of od Phantasmatas?
No let the feeble palseid lamer ioynts,
Leane on opinions crutches, let the—

Dor.
Nay, nay, nay, Heauens my hope, I cannot smoth this straine,
Witts death I cannot, what a leaprous humor
Breaks from ranke swelling of these bubbling wits?
Now out vp-pont: I wonder what tite braine:
Wrung in this custome to mainetaine Contempt
Gainst common Censure: to giue stiffe counter buffes
To crack rude skorne euen on the very face
Of better audience. Slight ist not odious,
Why harke you honest, honest Phylomuse
(You that indeauor to indeere our thoughts,
To the composers spirit) hold this firme:
Musike and Poetry were first approu'd
By common scence; and that which pleased most,
Held most allowed passe: not rules of Art
Were shapt to pleasure, not pleasure to your rules,
Thinke you if that his sceanes tooke stampe in mint
Of three or foure deem'd most iuditious,
It must inforce the world to currant them
That you must spit defiance on dislike?
Now as I loue the light were I to passe
Through publick verdit, I should feare my forme
Least ought I offerd were vnsquard or warp'd,
“The more we know, the more we know we want
“What Bayard boulder then the ignorant?


“Beleeue me Phylomuse: ifaith thou must
“The best best seale of wit, is wits distrust.

Phy.
Nay gentle Doricus.

Dor.

Ile here no more of him, nay and your friend the Author,
the composer: the What you will: seemes so faire in his owne
glasse, so straight in his owne measure that hee talkes once of
squinting Critickes, drunken Censure, splay-footed Opinion, iuicles
huskes, I ha done with him, I ha done with him.


Phy.

Pew nay then—


Dor.

As if any such vnsanctified stuffe could finde a beeing
monge these ingenuous breasts.


Atti.

Come, let passe, let passe, lers see what stuffe must cloath
our eares: what's the plaies name?


Phy.

What you will.


Dor.

Ist Commedy, Tragedy, Pastorall, Morall, Nocturnal or
Historie.


Phy.

Faith perfectly neither, but euen What you will, a slight
toye, lightly composed, to swiftly finisht, ill plotted, worse written,
I feare me worst acted, and indeed What you will.


Dor.

Why I like this vaine well now.


At.

Come, wee straine the spectators patience in delaying
their expected delightes. Lets place our selues within the Curtaines,
for good faith the Stage is so very little we shall wrong
the generall eye els very much.


Phy.

If youle stay but a little Ile accompany you, I haue ingag'd
my selfe to the Author to giue a kind of inductiue speech
to his Commedy.


At.

Away: you neglect your selfe, a gentleman—


Phy.

Tut I haue vow'd it, I am double charg'd, go of as't twil,
Ile set fire to it.


Dor.

Ile not stand it, may chance recoile, and be not stuff'd
with salte-peeter, well marke the report, marke the report.


Phy.

Nay pree thee stay, slid the female presence; the Genteletza;
the women will put me out.


Dor.

And they striue to put thee out, doe thou indeuor to put
them.


Atti.

In good faith if they put thee out of countenance; put
thou them out of patience; & hew their eares with hacking imperfect
vtterance.




Dor.

Goe stand to it, shew thy selfe a tale man of thy tongue,
make an honest legge, put off thy Cap with discreete carriage:
and so we leaue thee to the kinde Gentlemen, and most respected
Auditors.


Exeunt, remanet tantum Phylomusus.