Scæna Secunda.
Enter Agenor, and Gentlemen.
Age. Now Gentlemen, the time's come now t' enjoy
That fruitful happiness my heart has long'd for:
This day be happy call'd, and when old Time
Brings it about each year, crown'd with that sweetness
It gives me now, see every man observe it,
And laying all aside bears shew of business,
Give this to joy and triumph: How fits my cloaths?
1 Gent. Handsome, and wondrous well, Sir.
Ag. Do they shew richly?
For to those curious eyes even beauty envies,
I must not now appear poor, or low fashion'd;
Methinks I am younger than I was, far younger;
And such a promise in my bloud I feel now,
That if there may be a perpetual youth
Bestowed on man, I am that soul shall win it:
Does my hair stand well, Lord how ill-favourdly
You have drest me to day! how baldly! why this Cloak?
2 Gen. Why 'tis the richest, Sir.
Age. And here ye have put me on
A pair of Breeches look like a pair of Bagpipes.
1 Gen. Believe Sir, they shew bravely.
Ag. Why these Stockins?
2 Gen. Your Leg appears—