_Busk._ "All this was vain, since Clidiamira's eyes Have met with mine--and stopped my race of glory. Oh, Clidiamira--Oh! oh! oh! let all The elements break loose--" _Hum._ Ay, ay, to be sure, they can do no less, if Clidiamira's really angry; but not so fast, not so fast, if you please. _Busk._ Pray, sir, give me leave--Oh, Mr. Humber, is it you? Your humble servant.--I submit--I know you are a critic. _Hum._ To be free, sir, you must know this way of blustering is a stage legerdemain; a trick upon the eyes and ears of the audience. Look you, sir, this is a time of licentiousness; and we must examine things, now we are setting up to strip you, to know whether what you say is good or not. _Busk._ How, strip me! _Hum._ Ay, strip you--for if it be not sense in your doublet, it is not in your long robe. High heels on your shoes, or the feathers on your beaver, cannot exalt you a tittle. No; you must know, good folks, this is all a cheat. Such stuff as this is only a tragedy of feathers--it is only lace and ribbon in distress; undress the actor, and the speech is spoiled. _All._ Strip him--strip him! [_They pull off his clothes._ _Hum._ Now speak, now speak. _Busk._ Give me my truncheon at least; I got it by heart with a stick in my hand. _Many._ Ha, ha, ha; let him have his truncheon--let him have his truncheon. _Busk._ Nay--pray, gentlemen and ladies, let me come on the same board.--Nay-- _Hum._ You shall do that.--Well, but begin. _Busk._ "In vain has conquest"--shan't I have a little of the trumpet? _All._ No, no, no. _Busk._ Then the drum only? _All._ No, no. _Busk._ "Oh, Clidiamira--oh! oh! oh!"--It won't do; one can't follow either love or honour without some equipage. _Hum._ Well then, master, to keep you in countenance, you shall take up your things, and in your doublet speak that sentiment in the play called _The Patriot_,[141] wherein the great lord speaks to his friend, who applauds the bestowing of his bounty. The friend, taking notice of his conveying secretly relief to a distress'd person of great merit, and thinking to please him, tells him that the man obliged has found out who sent it, and said it was a God-like action. To which the answer: "God-like indeed, could one bestow unseen! Thanks are too large returns, from soul to soul, For anything that we can handle thus: Heaven has no more for giving us our all. The means of sustenance man owes to man, As angels give each other thought for thought." Mr. Buskin, your most humble servant; mingle with the company.--Take your things. Say that in a doublet, cap, or waistcoat, with or without shoes, and make it little if you can. [_The crowd takes in_ BUSKIN.