_Herod._ Come, sir; a stool, boy! these court-feasts are to us servitors court-fasts--such scambling, such shift for to eat, and where to eat. Here a squire of low degree hath got the carcass of a plover, there pages of the chamber divide the spoils of a tatter'd pheasant; here the sewer[161] has friended a country gentleman with a sweet green goose, and there a young fellow that late has bought his office, has caught a woodcock by the nose, _with cups full ever-flowing_.[162] 9 _Nym._ But is not Faunus preferr'd with a right hand? _Herod._ Did you ever see a fellow so spurted up in a moment? He has got the right ear of the duke, the prince, princess, most of the lords, but all the ladies; why, he is become their only minion, usher, and supporter. _Nym._ He hath gotten more lov'd reputation of virtue, of learning, of all graces, in one hour, than all your snarling reformers have in---- _Herod._ Nay, that's unquestionable; and, indeed, what a fruitless labour, what a filling of Danae's[163] tub, is it become to inveigh against folly! Community takes away the sense, and example the shame. No, 22 Praise me these fellows, hang on their chariot wheel, And mount with them whom Fortune heaves, nay, drives; A stoical sour virtue seldom thrives. Oppose such fortune, and then burst with those are pitied. The[164] hill of Chance is paved with poor men's bones, And bulks of luckless souls, over whose eyes Their chariot wheels must ruthless grate that rise. _Enter_ HERCULES, _freshly suited_. _Nym._ Behold that thing of most fortunate, most prosperous impudence,[165] Don Faunus himself. 31 _Herod._ Blessed and long-lasting be thy carnation ribbon, O man of more than wit, much more than virtue--of fortune! Faunus,[166] wilt eat any of a young spring sallet? _Herc._ Where did the herbs grow, my gallant, where did they grow? _Herod._ Hard by in the city here. _Herc._ No, I'll none--I'll eat no city herbs, no city roots; for here in the city a man shall have his excrements in his teeth again within four and twenty hours. I love no city sallets. Hast any canary? 42 _Nym._ How the poor snake wriggles with his sudden warmth! _Herod._ Here, Faunus, a health as deep as a female. [HEROD _drinks_. _Herc._ 'Fore Jove! we must be more endear'd. _Nym._ How dost thou feel thyself now, Fawn? _Herc._ Very womanly, with my fingers. I protest I think I shall love you. Are you married? I am truly taken with your virtues. Are you married? 50 _Herod._ Yes. _Herc._ Why, I like you well for it. _Herod._ No, troth, Fawn, I am not married. _Herc._ Why, I like you better for it; 'fore heaven, I must love you! _Herod._ Why, Fawn, why?