Bub. I will not stand with you for such a matter, because you have been my master; but otherwise I will entertain no man without some knight's or lady's letter for their behaviour. Gervase, I take it, is your Christian name?
Staines. Yes, if it please your worship.
Bub. Well, Gervase, be a good servant, and you shall find me a dutiful master; and because you have been a gentleman, I will entertain you for my tutor in behaviour. Conduct me to my palace.
[Exeunt omnes.
Enter Geraldine, as in his study, reading.
Gera. As little children love to play with fire,
And will not leave till they themselves do burn;
So did I fondly dally with desire,
Until love's flame grew hot; I could not turn,
Nor well avoid, but sigh, and sob, and mourn,
As children do, when as they feel the pain,
Till tender mothers kiss them whole again.
Fie! what unsavoury stuff is this! but she,
Whose mature judgment can distinguish things,
Will thus conceit: tales, that are harshest told,
Have smoothest meanings, and to speak are bold.
It is the first-born sonnet of my brain;
Why[157] suck'd a white leaf from my black-lipp'd pen
So sad employment?
Enter Will Rash and Longfield.
Yet the dry paper drinks it up as deep,
As if it flow'd from Petrarch's cunning quill.
W. Rash. How now! what have we here? a sonnet and a satire, coupled together like my lady's dog and her monkey?
As little children, &c.