Seen in higher powers moft, Though fome fools do fondly boast Sanctifies his lover's fin. Jove could not hide Io's fcape, Nor conceal Califto's rape. Both did fault, and both were famèd, And greater fin, 'cause great of 'gree. If he be high that doth the deed. Could not Venus dignify. But Vulcan trapp'd her, and her blame, Shame awaiteth upon her face, Die before you live unchafte. COMEDY.* Enter the Clown and his crew of Ruffians, to go to drink. First Ruffian. Come on, Smith, thou fhalt be one of the crew, because thou knoweft where the best ale in the town is. Adam [the black fmith's man]. Come on, in faith, my colts: I have left my Master striking of a heat, and stole away, because I would keep you company. Clown. Why, what, fhall we have this paltry Smith with us? Adam. Paltry Smith? Why, you incarnative knave, what are you that you speak petty treafon against the fmith's trade? Clown. Why, flave, I am a gentleman of Niniveh? * These are examples of Green's remarkable comic vein.-G. Adam. A gentleman ? Good Sir, I remember you well, and all your progenitors your father bare office in our town; an honeft man he was, and in great difcredit in the parish, for they bestowed two fquire's livings on him; the one was on working-days, and then he kept the town stage, and on holidays they made him the Sexton's man, for he whipped dogs out of the church. Alas, Sir, your father,-why, Sir, methinks I fee the gentleman ftill: a proper youth he was, faith, aged fome forty and ten; his beard rat's colour, half black, half white; his nose was in the highest degree of noses, it was nofe autem glorificam, fo fet with rubies that after his death it fhould have been nailed up in Copperfmith's Hall for a monument: well, Sir, I was beholding to your good father, for he was the firft man that ever inftructed me in the mystery of a pot of ale. Second Ruffian. Well faid, Smith; that croffed him over the thumbs. Clown. Villain, were it not that we go to be merry, my rapier fhould prefently quit thy opprobrious terms. Adam. O, Peter, Peter, put up thy fword, I prithee heartily, into thy fcabbard, hold in your rapier; for though I have not a long reacher, I have a short hitter. Nay then, gentlemen, ftay me, for my choler begins to rife against him; for mark the words, 'a paltry smith.' Oh, horrible sentence: thou haft in these words, I will stand to it, libelled against all the found horfes, whole horses, fore horfes, courfers, curtalls, jades, cuts, hackneys, and mares; whereupon, my friend, in their defence, I give thee this curfe,-thou shalt not be worth a horse of thine own this seven year. Clown. Ay, prithee fmith, is your occupation fo excellent? Adam. A paltry fmith'? Why, I'll ftand to it, a fmith is lord of the four elements; for our iron is made of the earth, our bellows blow out air, our floor holds fire, and our forge water. Nay, Sir, we read in the Chronicles that there was a god of our occupation. Clown. Ay, but he was a cuckold. Adam. That was the reafon, Sir, he called your father coufin. Paltry fmith' why, in this one word thou haft defaced their worshipful occupation. Clown. As how? Adam. Marry, Sir, I will stand to it, that a fmith in his kind is a physician, a furgeon, and a barber. For let a horfe take a cold, or be troubled with the botts, and we straight give him a potion or a purgation, in fuch phyfical manner that he mends ftraight: if he have outward difeafes, as the spavin, fplent, ring-bone, wind-gall, or farcin, or, Sir, a galled back, we let him blood and clap a plafter to him with a pestilence, that mends him with a very vengeance now, if his mane grow out of order, and he have any rebellious hairs, we ftraight to our fhears and trim him with what cut it please us, pick his ears, and make him neat. Marry, indeed, Sir, we are flovens for one thing; we never use any musk-balls to wash him with, and the reason, Sir, because he can woe* without kiffing. Clown. Well, firrha, leave off thefe praises of a smith, and bring us to the beft ale in the town. Adam. Now, Sir, I have a feat above all the fmiths in Niniveh; for, Sir, I am a philofopher that can difpute of the nature of ale; for mark you, Sir, a pot |