Hum. You shall do that.—Well, but begin.
Busk. "In vain has conquest"—shan't I have a little of the trumpet?
All. No, no, no.
Busk. Then the drum only?
All. No, no.
Busk. "Oh, Clidiamira—oh! oh! oh!"—It won't do; one can't follow either love or honour without some equipage.
Hum. Well then, master, to keep you in countenance, you shall take up your things, and in your doublet speak that sentiment in the play called The Patriot,[141] wherein the great lord speaks to his friend, who applauds the bestowing of his bounty. The friend, taking notice of his conveying secretly relief to a distress'd person of great merit, and thinking to please him, tells him that the man obliged has found out who sent it, and said it was a God-like action. To which the answer:
"God-like indeed, could one bestow unseen!
Thanks are too large returns, from soul to soul,
For anything that we can handle thus:
Heaven has no more for giving us our all.
The means of sustenance man owes to man,
As angels give each other thought for thought."
Mr. Buskin, your most humble servant; mingle with the company.—Take your things. Say that in a doublet, cap, or waistcoat, with or without shoes, and make it little if you can. [The crowd takes in Buskin.
Hum. But I see you grow uneasy, to be diverted from your main design; I'll only trouble you with two circumstances, which to me appear very magnificent, tragical, and great: the one is a great favourite in a court, a man of consummate honour, who was surrounded with many difficulties and enemies. They got the better of him so far, as that he must be sacrificed unless he would open a letter which came by an error into his hand, but was directed to his enemy. He comes on in a soliloquy, but chooses to preserve his honour and abstain from opening it, and goes on to his ruin. He says but a word or two; but let him come.
Enter a Tragedian, with a letter in his hand.
Tragedian. "Here is my fate: 'tis put into my hands;
'Tis in my hands to take or to refuse;
I cannot open it but with loss of honour—
Be it for ever closed.
I cannot escape death; that will come soon or late;
'Tis in my power to make it find me innocent." [Exit.