Zoy. So it is your destiny that I should thus revenge your abuse. No, the Irishman shall hate aqua vitæ, the Welshman cheese, and the Dutchman salt butter, before I’ll love or receive thee. Does he cry? does the babe pule? ’Tis too late now—thou shouldst ha’ cried before—’tis too late now. Go, bury thy head in silence; and let oblivion be thy utmost hope.
[The Courtiers address themselves to dancing, whilst the Duke enters with Granuffo, and takes his state.[278]
Herc. Gallants, to dancing. Loud music, the duke’s upon entrance!
Gon. Are the sports ready? 130
Herc. Ready.
Gon. ’Tis enough. Of whose invention is this parliament?
Herc. Ours.
Gon. ’Tis enough.
This night we will exult! O let this night
Be ever memorised with prouder triumphs—
Let it be writ in lasting character
That this night our great wisdom did discover
So close a practice—that this night, I say, 140
Our policy found out, nay, dash’d the drifts
Of the young prince, and put him to his shifts,
Nay, past his shifts (’fore Jove! we could make a good poet).—
Delight us. On! we deign our princely ear—
We are well pleased to grace you;[279] then scorn fear.
[Cornets playing. Drunkenness, Sloth, Pride, and Plenty lead Cupid to his state, who is followed by Folly, War, Beggary, and Slaughter.[280]