WILL SUM. Fie, fie, of honesty, fie! Solstitium is an ass, perdy, this play is a gallimaufry. Fetch me some drink, somebody. What cheer, what cheer, my hearts? Are not you thirsty with listening to this dry sport? What have we to do with scales and hour-glasses, except we were bakers or clock-keepers? I cannot tell how other men are addicted, but it is against my profession to use any scales but such as we play at with a bowl, or keep any hours but dinner or supper. It is a pedantical thing to respect times and seasons: if a man be drinking with good fellows late, he must come home for fear the gates be shut: when I am in my warm bed, I must rise to prayers, because the bell rings. I like no such foolish customs. Actors, bring now a black jack and a rundlet of Rhenish wine, disputing of the antiquity of red noses: let the Prodigal Child[41] come in in his doublet and hose all greasy, his shirt hanging forth, and ne'er a penny in his purse, and talk what a fine thing it is to walk summerly, or sit whistling under a hedge, and keep hogs. Go forward, in grace and virtue to proceed, but let us have no more of these grave matters. SUM. Vertumnus, will Sol come before us? VER. Sol, Sol; _ut, re, mi, fa, sol_![42] Come to church, while the bell toll. _Enter_ SOLSTITIUM _very richly attired, with a noise of musicians before him_. SUM. Ay, marry, here comes majesty in pomp, Resplendent Sol, chief planet of the heavens! He is our servant, looks he ne'er so big. SOL. My liege, what crav'st thou at thy vassal's hands? SUM. Hypocrisy, how it can change his shape! How base is pride from his own dunghill put! How I have rais'd thee, Sol. I list not tell, Out of the ocean of adversity, To sit in height of honour's glorious heaven, To be the eyesore[43] of aspiring eyes: To give the day her life from thy bright looks, And let nought thrive upon the face of earth, From which thou shalt withdraw thy powerful smiles. What hast thou done, deserving such high grace? What industry or meritorious toil Canst thou produce to prove my gift well-placed? Some service or some profit I expect: None is promoted but for some respect. SOL. My lord, what need these terms betwixt us two? Upbraiding ill-beseems your bounteous mind: I do you honour for advancing me. Why, 'tis a credit for your excellence To have so great a subject as I am: This is your glory and magnificence, That, without stooping of your mightiness, Or taking any whit from your high state, You can make one as mighty as yourself. AUT. O arrogance exceeding all belief! Summer, my lord, this saucy upstart Jack, That now doth rule the chariot of the sun, And makes all stars derive their light from him, Is a most base, insinuating slave, The sum[44] of parsimony and disdain; One that will shine on friends and foes alike, That under brightest smiles hideth black show'rs Whose envious breath doth dry up springs and lake And burns the grass, that beasts can get no food.