FUROR.
The gods above, that know great Furor's fame,
And do adore grand poet Furor's name,
Granted long since at heaven's high parliament,
That whoso Furor shall immortalise,
No yawning goblins shall frequent his grave;
Nor any bold, presumptuous cur shall dare
To lift his leg against his sacred dust.
Where'er I have my rhymes, thence vermin fly,
All, saving that foul-fac'd vermin poverty.
This sucks the eggs of my invention,
Evacuates my wit's full pigeon-house.
Now may it please thy generous dignity
To take this vermin napping, as he lies
In the true trap of liberality,
I'll cause the Pleiades to give thee thanks;
I'll write thy name within the sixteenth sphere:
I'll make th'Antarctic pole to kiss thy toe.
And Cynthia to do homage to thy tail.
SIR RADERIC. Precious coals! thou a man of worship and justice too? It's even so, he is either a madman or a conjuror. It were well if his words were examined, to see if they be the Queen's or no.
PHANTASMA. Nunc si nos audis, tu qui es divinus Apollo, Dic mihi, qui nummos non habet, unde petat?
AMORETTO.
I am still haunted with these needy Latinist fellows.—The best counsel
I can give is, to be gone.
PHANTASMA. Quod peto da, Caie; non peto consilium.
AMORETTO.
Fellow, look to your brains; you are mad, you are mad.
PHANTASMA. Semel insanivimus omnes.
AMORETTO. Master Recorder, is it not a shame that a gallant cannot walk the street quietly for needy fellows, and that, after there is a statute come out against begging? [He strikes his breast.
PHANTASMA. Pectora percussit, pectus quoque robora fiunt.
RECORDER. I warrant you, they are some needy graduates; the university breaks wind twice a year, and let's fly such as these are.