SORD. O here, "St. Swithin's, the 15 day, variable weather, for the most part rain", good! "for the most part rain": why, it should rain forty days after, now, more or less, it was a rule held, afore I was able to hold a plough, and yet here are two days no rain; ha! it makes me muse. We'll see how the next month begins, if that be better. "August 1, 2, 3, and 4, days, rainy and blustering:" this is well now: "5, 6, 7, 8, and 9, rainy, with some thunder;" Ay marry, this is excellent; the other was false printed sure: "the 10 and 11, great store of rain"; O good, good, good, good, good! "the 12, 13, and 14 days, rain"; good still: "15, and 16, rain"; good still: "17 and 18, rain", good still: "19 and 20", good still, good still, good still, good still, good still! "21, some rain"; some rain! well, we must be patient, and attend the heaven's pleasure, would it were more though: "the 22, 23, great tempests of rain, thunder and lightning". O good again, past expectation good! I thank my blessed angel; never, never Laid I [a] penny better out than this, To purchase this dear book: not dear for price, And yet of me as dearly prized as life, Since in it is contain'd the very life, Blood, strength, and sinews, of my happiness. Blest be the hour wherein I bought this book; His studies happy that composed the book, And the man fortunate that sold the book! Sleep with this charm, and be as true to me, As I am joy'd and confident in thee [PUTS IT UP. [ENTER A HIND, AND GIVES SORDIDO A PAPER TO READ. MAC. Ha, ha, ha! Is not this good? Is not pleasing this? Ha, ha, ha! God pardon me! ha, ha! Is't possible that such a spacious villain Should live, and not be plagued? or lies be hid Within the wrinkled bosom of the world, Where Heaven cannot see him? S'blood! methinks 'Tis rare, and strange, that he should breathe and walk, Feed with digestion, sleep, enjoy his health, And, like a boisterous whale swallowing the poor, Still swim in wealth and pleasure! is't not strange? Unless his house and skin were thunder proof, I wonder at it! Methinks, now, the hectic, Gout, leprosy, or some such loath'd disease, Might light upon him; of that fire from heaven Might fall upon his barns; or mice and rats Eat up his grain; or else that it might rot Within the hoary ricks, even as it stands: Methinks this might be well; and after all The devil might come and fetch him. Ay, 'tis true! Meantime he surfeits in prosperity, And thou, in envy of him, gnaw'st thyself: Peace, fool, get hence, and tell thy vexed spirit, Wealth in this age will scarcely look on merit. [RISES AND EXIT. SORD. Who brought this same, sirrah? HIND. Marry, sir, one of the justice's men; he says 'tis a precept, and all their hands be at it.