PHILOMUSUS. Soon may then fates this gaol[66]-deliver send us: Small woes vex long, [but] great woes quickly end us. But let's leave this capping of rhymes, Studioso, and follow our late device, that we may maintain our heads in caps, our bellies in provender, and our backs in saddle and bridle. Hitherto we have sought all the honest means we could to live, and now let us dare _aliqua brevibus gyris[67] et carcere dignum_; let us run through all the lewd forms of lime-twig, purloining villanies; let us prove coneycatchers, bawds, or anything, so we may rub out. And first my plot for playing the French doctor--that shall hold; our lodging stands here fitly[68] in Shoe Lane: for, if our comings-in be not the better, London may shortly throw an old shoe after us; and with those shreds of French that we gathered up in our host's house in Paris, we'll gull the world, that hath in estimation foreign physicians: and if any of the hidebound brethren of Cambridge and Oxford, or any of those stigmatic masters of art that abused us in times pass'd, leave their own physicians, and become our patients, we'll alter quite the style of them; for they shall never hereafter write, Your lordship's most bounden, but, Your lordship's most laxative. STUDIOSO. It shall be so: see what a little vermin poverty altereth a whole milky disposition. PHILOMUSUS. So then myself straight with revenge I'll sate.[69] STUDIOSO. Provoked patience grows intemperate. ACTUS I, SCAENA 5. _Enter_ RICHARDETTO, JAQUES, _Scholar learning French_. JAQUES. How now, my little knave? Quelle nouvelle, monsieur? RICHARDETTO. There's a fellow with a nightcap on his head, an urinal in his hand, would fain speak with Master Theodore. JAQUES. Parle François, mon petit garçon. RICHARDETTO.[70] Ici un homme, avec le bonnet de nuit sur la tete, et un urinal en la main, que veut parler avec Maistre Theodore. JAQUES. Fort bien. THEODORE. Jaques, a bonne heure. [_Exeunt_. ACTUS I., SCAENA 6. FUROR POETICUS; _and presently after enters_ PHANTASMA. FUROR POETICUS, _rapt with contemplation_. Why, how now, pedant Phoebus?[71] are you smouching Thaly on her tender lips? There, hoi! peasant, avaunt! Come, pretty short-nosed nymph. O sweet Thalia, I do kiss thy foot. What, Clio? O sweet Clio! Nay, prythee, do not weep, Melpomene. What, Urania, Polyhymnia, and Calliope! let me do reverence to your deities. [PHANTASMA _pulls him by the sleeve_. I am your holy swain that, night and day, Sit for your sakes, rubbing my wrinkled brow, Studying a month for a epithet. Nay, silver Cynthia, do not trouble me; Straight will I thy Endymion's story write, To which thou hastest me on day and night. You light-skirt stars, this is your wonted guise, By gloomy light perk out your doubtful heads; But when Dan[72] Phoebus shows his flashing snout, You are sky-puppies;[73] straight your light is out.