CRI. This is nothing. There stands a neophite glazing of his face, Pruning his clothes, perfuming of his hair, Against his idol enters; and repeats, Like an unperfect prologue, at third music, His part of speeches, and confederate jests, In passion to himself. Another swears His scene of courtship over; bids, believe him, Twenty times ere they will; anon, doth seem As he would kiss away his hand in kindness; Then walks off melancholic, and stands wreath'd, As he were pinn'd up to the arras, thus. A third is most in action, swims, and frisks, Plays with his mistress's paps, salutes her pumps; Adores her hems, her skirts, her knots, her curls, Will spend his patrimony for a garter, Or the least feather in her bounteous fan. A fourth, he only comes in for a mute; Divides the act with a dumb show, and exit. Then must the ladies laugh, straight comes their scene, A sixth times worse confusion then the rest. Where you shall hear one talk of this man's eye, Another of his lip, a third, his nose, A fourth commend his leg, a fifth, his foot, A sixth, his hand, and every one a limb; That you would think the poor distorted gallant Must there expire. Then fall they in discourse Of tires, and fashions, how they must take place, Where they may kiss, and whom, when to sit down, And with what grace to rise; if they salute, What court'sy they must use; such cobweb stuff As would enforce the common'st sense abhor Th' Arachnean workers. ARE. Patience, gentle Crites. This knot of spiders will be soon dissolved, And all their webs swept out of Cynthia's court, When once her glorious deity appears, And but presents itself in her full light: 'Till when, go in, and spend your hours with us, Your honour'd friends. Time and Phronesis, In contemplation of our goddess' name. Think on some sweet and choice invention now, Worthy her serious and illustrious eyes, That from the merit of it we may take Desired occasion to prefer your worth, And make your service known to Cynthia. It is the pride of Arete to grace Her studious lovers; and, in scorn of time, Envy, and ignorance, to lift their state Above a vulgar height. True happiness Consists not in the multitude of friends, But in their worth, and choice. Nor would I have Virtue a popular regard pursue: Let them be good that love me, though but few. CRI. I kiss thy hands, divinest Arete, And vow myself to thee, and Cynthia. [EXEUNT.] SCENE III.--ANOTHER APARTMENT IN THE SAME. ENTER AMORPHUS, FOLLOWED BY ASOTUS AND HIS TAILOR. AMO. A little more forward: so, sir. Now go in, discloak yourself, and come forth. [EXIT ASOTUS.] Tailor; bestow thy absence upon us; and be not prodigal of this secret, but to a dear customer. [EXIT TAILOR.] RE-ENTER ASOTUS.