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1. We hear you are To marry an old citizen. 2. Then surely You were not deaf. !. And do you mean his age, Which hath seen all the kingdom bury'd thrice; To whom the heat of August is December ; Who, were he but in Italy, would save The charge of marble vaults, and cool the air Better than ventiducts : shall he freeze between Your melting arms ? do but confider, he But marries you as he would do his furrs, To keep him warm? 1. But he is rich, fir. 2. Then In wedding him you wed more infirmities Than ever Galen wrote of; he has pains That put the doctors to new experiments : Half his diseases in the city bill Kill hundreds weekly. A lone hospital Were but enough for him. Besides, He has a cough that nightly drowns the Bellman ; Calls up his family; all his neighbours rise And go by it, as by the chimes and clock, Not four loam walls, nor faw-dust put between, Can dead it. 2. Yet he is still rich. 1. If this Cannot affright you, but that you will needs Be blind to wholesome council, and will marry One, who by the course of nature, ought t'have been Rotten before the queen's time, and in justice Should now have been some threescore years a ghoft, Let pity move you.

Main's Ciry March. I'd rather Lie with an ancient tomb, or embrace An ancestor than you. Do you think I'll come Between your winding theets ? for what? to hear you Depart all night, and fetch your last groan ? and In the morning find a deluge on the floor, Your entrails Hoating, and half my husband spit Upon the arras? 2. I am married.]. Then


For your abilities, should twelve good women
Sit on these rev'rend locks, and on your heat,
And natural appetite, they would just find you
As youthful as a coffin, and as hot
As th' sultry winter that froze o'er the thames :
They say the hard time did begin from you.
Your humours came frost from you, and your nose
Had isicles in June.

Main's City Match.
Husbands are us'd, as properties in scenes,
To keep the inward motions undiscover'd.

Orgula. Hr P O CRI I E. At length they chaunst to meet upon the way

An aged fire, in long black weeds yclad; His feet all bare, his beard all hoary gray,

And by his belt his book he hanging had ;

Sober he seem'd, and very fagely sad ;
And to the ground his eyes were lowly bent,

Simple in Shew, and void of malice bad ;
And all the way he prayed, as he went,
And often knock'd his breast, as one that did repent.

Spenser's Fairy Queen. No man's condition is fo base as his ; None more accurs'd than he : for man esteems Him hateful, 'cause he seems not what he is : God hates him, 'cause he is not what he seems. What grief is absent, or what mifchief can Be added to the hate of God and man!




I D L E N E S S.
HE first, that all the rest did guide,

Was sluggish idleness, the nurse of fin;
Upon a slothfull afs he chose to ride,
Array'd in habit black, and amis thin,
Like to an holy monk, the service to begin.
And in his hand his portress still he bare,

That much was worn, but therein little read :
For of devotion he had little care,

Still drown'd in Deep, and most of his days dead ;

Scarce could he once uphold his heavy head, To looken whether it were night or day.

May seem the wain was very evil led, When such an one had guiding of the way, That knew not, whether right he went, or else aftray.. From worldly cares himself he did esloin,

And greatly shunned manly exercise ; For ev'ry work he challenged effoin,

For contemplation fake : yet otherwise,

His life he led in lawless riotise ;
By which he grew to grievous malady:

For in his lustless limbs through evil guise
A shaking fever reign'd continually :
Such one was idleness, first of this company.

Spenser's Fairy Queen. Who doth to sloth his younger days engage,

For fond delight, he clips the wings of fame ; For Noth, the canker worm of honour's badge,

Fame's feather’d wings doth fret; burying the name

Of virtues worth in dust of dunghill shame,
Whom action out of duft to light doth bring,
And makes her mount to heav'n with golden wing,

Mirror for Magiftrates.


Those wounds heal ill, that men do give themselves :
Omission to do what is necessary
Seals commission to a blank of danger ;
And danger, like an ague, subtly taints
Ev'n then, when we fic idly in the sun.

Shakespear's Troilus and Crellida.

What is a man,
If his chief good and market of his time
Be but to fleep and feed ? a beaft, no more.
Sure, he that made us with such large discourse,
Looking before and after, gave us not
That capability and god-like reason
To rust in us unus'd.

Shakespear's Hamlet. If you

will needs say, I am an old man,
You should give me reft: I would to God, my
Name were not so terrible to th'enemy
Asit is ! I were better to be eaten
To death with a rust, than to be scour'd
To nothing with perpetual motion.

Shakespear's Second Part of Henry IV.
Secure and idle spirits never thrive,
When most the gods for their advancement strive.

Chapman's Cæfar and Pompeg. See the issue of

your Of Noth comes pleasure, of pleasure comes riot, Of riot comes whoring, of whoring comes spending, Of spending comes want, of want comes theft, And of theft comes hanging.

Chapman, Johnson and Marston's Eastrvard Hoe. When that he dies, that liv'd a shade, His sleep's continu'd then, not made.

Killegrer's Conspiracy. If we should do nothing, Of that muft neceffary come ill : I'll Prove it too; of doing nothing comes idleness, Of, idleness comes no goodness, of no Goodness neceffary comes ill: Therefore VOL. II.




If we do nothing, of necessity
We must do ill.

Alexander Brome's Cunning Lovers,
An idle life a sad condition breeds,
Who fits when he should travel, never speeds.

1. Is he not jealous ?
2. Who, he? I think the sun, where he was born,
Drew all such humours from him.

Shakespear's Othello.
I think, my wife is honest; and think she is not ;
I think, that thou art just ; and think, thou art not ;
I'll have some proof. Her name, that was as fresh
As Dian's visage, is now begrim'd and black
As my own face. If there be cords, or knives,
Poison, or fire, or fuffocating streams,
I'll not endure it, -would, I were satisfy'd!

1. Had it pleas'd heav'n
To try with me affliction, had he rain'd
All kind of fores and shames on my bare head,
Steep'd me in poverty to the very lips,
Giv'n to captivity, me and my hopes ;
I should have found in some place of my soul
A drop of patience. But, alas, to make me
A fixed figure for the hand of scorn
To point his low and moving finger at-
Yet I could bear that too, -well, very well.
But there, where I have garner'd up my heart,
Where cither I must live, or bear no life,
The fountain, from the which my current runs,
Or elle dries up; to be discarded thence ;
Or keep it as a cistern, for foul toads
To knot and gender in : 'Turn thy complexion there,
Patience, thou young and role-lip'd cherubin ;
Ay, there look grim as hell.
2. I hope, my noble lord esteems me honeft.

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