COMEDY.
Thy policy wants gravity, thou art
Too weak. Speak, fiend, as how?
ENVY.
Why, thus.
From my foul study will I hoist a wretch,
A lean and hungry meager cannibal,
Whose jaws swell to his eyes with chawing malice;
And him I’ll make a poet.
COMEDY.
What’s that to the purpose?
ENVY.
This scrambling raven with his needy beard,
Will I whet on to write a comedy;
Wherein shall be compos’d dark sentences,
Pleasing to factious brains:
And every otherwhere place me a jest,
Whose high abuse shall more torment than blows.
Then I myself, quicker than lightning,
Will fly me to a puissant magistrate,
And waiting with a trencher at his back,
In midst of jollity rehearse those galls,
With some additions, so lately vented in your theatre:
He upon this cannot but make complaint,
To your great danger, or at least restraint.
COMEDY.
Ha, ha, ha! I laugh to hear thy folly;
This is a trap for boys, not men, nor such,
Especially desertful in their doings,
Whose staid discretion rules their purposes.
I and my faction do eschew those vices.
But see, O see, the weary sun for rest
Hath lain his golden compass to the west,
Where he perpetual bide and ever shine,
As David’s offspring in his happy clime.
Stoop, Envy, stoop, bow to the earth with me,
Let’s beg our pardon on our bended knee.
[They kneel.]
ENVY.
My power has lost her might, and Envy’s date’s expired,
Yon splendant majesty hath ’fell’d my sting,
And I amazed am.
[Fall down and quake.]
COMEDY.
Glorious and wise Arch-Cæsar on this earth,
At whose appearance, Envy’s stricken dumb,
And all bad things cease operation,
Vouchsafe to pardon our unwilling error,
So late presented to your gracious view,
And we’ll endeavour with excess of pain,
To please your senses in a choicer strain.
Thus we commit you to the arms of night,
Whose spangled darkness would, for your delight,
Strive to excell the day: be blessed then,
Who other wishes, let him never speak—
ENVY.
Amen!
To Fame and Honour we commend your rest,
Live still more happy, every hour more blest.