PHILOMUSUS. Perhaps some happy wit with seely[139] hand Hereafter may record the pastoral Of the two scholars of Parnassus hill, And then our scene may end, and have content. INGENIOSO. Meantime, if there be any spiteful ghost, That smiles to see poor scholars' miseries, Cold is his charity, his wit too dull: We scorn his censure, he's a jeering gull. But whatsoe'er refined sprites there be, That deeply groan at our calamity: Whose breath is turn'd to sighs, whose eyes are wet, To see bright arts bent to their latest set; Whence never they again their heads shall rear, To bless our art-disgracing hemisphere, Let them. | | FUROR. | Let them. | all give us a plaudite. | PHANTASMA. | Let them. ACADEMICO. | And none but them. | | PHILOMUSUS. | give us a plaudite. And none but them. | | STUDIOSO. | And none but them. | FINIS. WILY BEGUILED. _EDITION. A Pleasant Comedie, called Wily Begvilde. The Chiefe Actors be these: A poore scholler, a rich Foole, and a Knaue at a shifte. At London, Printed by H.L. for Clement Knight, and are to be solde at his Shop, in Paules Church-yard, at the signe of the Holy Lambe_. 1606. 4to. [There were later editions in 1623, 1635, and 1638, all in 4to. That of 1606 is the most correct. Hawkins, who included this piece in his collection, observes: "_Wily Beguiled_ is a regular and very pleasing Comedy; and if it were judiciously adapted to the manners of the times, would make no contemptible appearance on the modern stage."] SPECTRUM, THE PROLOGUE. What, ho! where are these paltry players? still poring in their papers, and never perfect? For shame, come forth; your audience stay so long, their eyes wax dim with expectation. _Enter one of the_ PLAYERS. How now, my honest rogue? What play shall we have here to-night? PLAYER. Sir, you may look upon the title. PROLOGUE. What, _Spectrum_ once again? Why, noble Cerberus, nothing but patch-panel stuff, old gallymawfries, and cotton-candle eloquence? Out, you bawling bandog! fox-furred slave! you dried stock-fish, you, out of my sight! [_Exit the_ PLAYER. Well, 'tis no matter! I'll sit me down and see it; and, for fault of a better, I'll supply the place of a scurvy prologue. Spectrum is a looking-glass, indeed, Wherein a man a history may read Of base conceits and damned roguery: The very sink of hell-bred villany. _Enter a_ JUGGLER. JUGGLER. Why, how now, humorous George? What, as melancholy as a mantle-tree? Will you see any tricks of legerdemain, sleight of hand, cleanly conveyance, or _deceptio visus_? What will you see, gentleman, to drive you out of these dumps.