And. Yes, or I'le break it: thou awaken'st me, and I'le peep i'th' Moon this month but I'le watch for him. My Master rings, I must go make him a fire, and conjure o'er his Books.
Co. Adieu, good Andrew, and send thee manly patience with thy learning. [Exeunt.
ACTUS II. SCENA IV.
Enter Charles.
Cha. I have forgot to eat and sleep with reading, and all my faculties turn into study; 'tis meat and sleep; what need I outward garments, when I can cloath my self with understanding? The Stars and glorious Planets have no Tailors, yet ever new they are, and shine like Courtiers. The Seasons of the year find no fond Parents, yet some are arm'd in silver Ice that glisters, and some in gawdy Green come in like Masquers. The Silk-worm spins her own suit and lodging, and has no aid nor partner in her labours. Why should we care for any thing but knowledge, or look upon the World but to contemn it?
Enter Andrew.
And. Would you have any thing?
Char. Andrew, I find there is a flie grown o'er the Eye o'th' Bull, which will go near to blind the Constellation.
And. Put a Gold-ring in's nose, and that will cure him.
Char. Ariadne's Crown's away too; two main Stars that held it fast are slip[t] out.