_Idle._ _'Twool not bide on?_ 'Twould if it could! But marvel it were that it should-- Science['s] garment on Ingnorancy['s] back! But now, let's see, sir! what do ye lack? Nothing but even to buckle here this throat, So well this Wit becometh a fool's coat! _Ingn._ He is I, now! _Idle._ Yea; how likest him now? Is he not a fool as well as thou? _Ingn._ Yeas! _Idle._ Well, then, one fool keep another! Give me this, and take thou that, brother! _Ingn._ Um-m-- _Idle._ Pike thee home, go! _Ingn._ Chill go tell my moother! [_Exit._ _Idle._ Yea, do! But yet, to take my leave of my dear, lo! With a skip or twain, here lo! and here lo! And, here again! and now, this heel To bless his weak brain! Now are ye weel, By virtue of Idleness' blessing tool, Conjured from Wit unto a stark fool! [_Exit_ IDLENESS. CONFIDENCE _cometh in with a sword by his side;_ _and sayeth as followeth:_ [_Confidence._] I seek and seek, as one on no ground Can rest; but, like a masterless hound, Wandering all about seeking his master. Alas, gentle Wit! I fear the faster That my true service cleaveth unto thee, The slacker thy mind cleaveth unto me; I have done thy message, in such sort, That I not only, for thy comfort, To vanquish thine enemy have brought here A sword of comfort from thy love dear; But also, further, I have so inclined her That, upon my words, she hath assigned her, In her own person, half-way to meet thee: And, hitherward, she came for to greet thee. And sure, except she be turned again, Hither will she come or be long, plain, To seek to meet thee here in this coast. But now, alas! thyself thou hast lost; Or, at the least, thou wilt not be found. Alas! gentle Wit, how dost thou wound Thy trusty and true servant, Confidence, To lese my credence to Lady Science? Thou lesest me, too; for if I cannot Find thee shortly, longer live I may not; But shortly get me even into a corner And die for sorrow through such a scorner! [_Exit._ _Here they_ [FAME, FAVOUR, RICHES, _and_ WORSHIP] _come in with viols_. _Fame._ Come, sirs! let us not disdain to do That the World hath appointed us to. _Favour._ Since, to serve Science, the World hath sent us, As the World willeth us, let us content us. _Riches._ Content us we may, since we be assigned To the fairest lady that liveth, in my mind! _Worship._ Then, let us not stay here mute and mum; But taste we these instruments till she come. _Here the[y] sing "Exceeding Measure."_