SIP. Your will, sir? TIM. Be sure that you hold not your book at too much distance. The actors, poor lapwings, are but pen-feathered; and once out, out for ever. We had a time, indeed--and it was a golden time for a pregnant fancy--when the actor could embellish his author, and return a pæan to his pen in every accent; but our great disaster at Cannæ, than which none ever more tragical to our theatre, made a speedy despatch of our rarest Rosciuses, closing them jointly in one funeral epilogue. Now for you, boy: as you play the chorus, so be mindful of your hint. I know you to be a wag by nature, and you must play the waggish actor. PAGE. I shall not sleep in my action, sir, if your line have so much life as to provoke a laughter. I shall not strangle the height of your conceit with a dull gesture; nor weaken the weight of your plot with too flat or unbecoming a deportment. TIM. Thou promisest fairly; go on. TRIL. And so does Timon too, or his judgment fails him. Well, I will accost him.--Health to our stock of stoical wit, ingenious Timon! Come, sir, what brave dramatic piece has your running Mercury now upon the loom? The title of your new play, sir? TIM. Every post may sufficiently inform you; nay, the fame of the city cannot choose but echo it to you, so much is expected. Neither shall you discover a mouse peeping out of a mountain, believe it. [Sidenote: _Nulla fides spectanda feris, nec gratia victis._] TRIL. No, nor a monkey dancing his tricotee on a rope, for want of strong lines from the poet's pen. [Sidenote: _Corpora distendunt versibus affanda nefandis._] TIM. You are i' th' right on't, Trillo. These pigmies of mine shall not play the egregious puppies in deluding an ignorant rabble with the sad presentment of a roasted savage. [Sidenote: _Tempora sunt Cuculi gratissima labilis anni;_] TRIL. Your conceit is above the scale of admiration. But the subject of your invention, sir? Where may you lay your scene; and what name [do] you bestow upon this long-expected comedy? [Sidenote: _Cornua sunt sponsis trista, læta procis._--Auson.] TIM. My scene, Trillo, is Horn Alley: the name it bears is "Lady Alimony." The subject I shall not preoccupate. Let the fancies of my thirsty auditory fall a-working; if ever their small expense confined to three hours' space were better recompensed, I will henceforth disclaim my society with a happy genius, and bestow the remainder of my time in catching flies with Domitian. TRIL. Excellent, excellent! I am confident your acrimonious spirit will discurtain our changeable taffeta ladies to a hair. TIM. Thou knowest my humour, and let me perish if I do not pursue it. Thou hast heard, no doubt, how I never found any branch more pleasingly fruitful, nor to my view more grateful, than when I found a woman hanging on it; wishing heartily that all trees in mine orchard bore such fruit.