The Works of Ben Jonson/Volume 6/A Tale of a Tub/Act III/Scene IV
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SCENE IV.
Another part of the Same.
Enter sir Hugh and Preamble.
Hugh. O bone Deus, have you seen the like!
Here was, Hodge hold thine ear fair, whilst I strike.
Body o' me, how came this geer about?
Here was, Hodge hold thine ear fair, whilst I strike.
Body o' me, how came this geer about?
Pre. I know not, Canon, but it falls out cross.
Nor can I make conjecture by the circumstance
Of these events; it was impossible, so
Being so close and politicly carried,
To come so quickly to the ears of Turfe.
O priest! had but thy slow delivery bald
Been nimble, and thy lazy Latin tongue
But run the forms o'er with that swift dispatch
As had been requisite, all had been well.
Nor can I make conjecture by the circumstance
Of these events; it was impossible, so
Being so close and politicly carried,
To come so quickly to the ears of Turfe.
O priest! had but thy slow delivery bald
Been nimble, and thy lazy Latin tongue
But run the forms o'er with that swift dispatch
As had been requisite, all had been well.
Hugh. What should have been, that never loved the friar;
But thus you see the old adage verified,
Multa cadunt inter———you can guess the rest,
Many things fall between the cup and lip;
And though they touch, you are not sure to drink.
You lack'd good fortune, we had done our parts:
Give a man fortune, throw him in the sea.
The properer man, the worse luck: stay a time;
Tempus edax—In time the stately ox,[1]—
Good counsels lightly never come too late.
But thus you see the old adage verified,
Multa cadunt inter———you can guess the rest,
Many things fall between the cup and lip;
And though they touch, you are not sure to drink.
You lack'd good fortune, we had done our parts:
Give a man fortune, throw him in the sea.
The properer man, the worse luck: stay a time;
Tempus edax—In time the stately ox,[1]—
Good counsels lightly never come too late.
Pre. You, sir, will run your counsels out of breath.
Hugh. Spur a free horse, he'll run himself to death.'
Sancti Evangelistæ! here comes Miles!
Sancti Evangelistæ! here comes Miles!
Enter Metaphor.
Pre. What news, man, with our new-made pursuivant?
Met. A pursuivant! would I were—or more pursie,
And had more store of money; or less pursie,
And had more store of hreath: you call me pursuivant,
But I could never vaunt of any purse
I had, sin' you were my godfathers and godmothers,
And gave me that nick-name.
And had more store of money; or less pursie,
And had more store of hreath: you call me pursuivant,
But I could never vaunt of any purse
I had, sin' you were my godfathers and godmothers,
And gave me that nick-name.
Pre. What's now the matter?
Met. Nay, 'tis no matter, I have been simply beaten.
Hugh. What is become of the 'squire and thy prisoner?
Met. The lines of blood run streaming from my head,
Can speak what rule the 'squire hath kept with me.
Can speak what rule the 'squire hath kept with me.
Pre. I pray thee, Miles, relate the manner how.
Met. Be't known unto you by these presents then,
That I, Miles Metaphor, your worship's clerk,
Have e'en been beaten to an allegory,
By multitude of hands. Had they been but
Some five or six, I had whipp'd them all, like tops
In Lent, and hurl'd them into Hobler's hole,
Or the next ditch; I had crack'd all their costards,
As nimbly as a squirrel will crack nuts.
And flourished like to Hercules the porter[2]
Among the pages. But when they came on
Like hees about a hive, crows about carrion,
Flies about sweatmeats; nay, like watermen
About a fare: then was poor Metaphor
Glad to give up the honour of the day,
To quit his charge to them, and run away
To save his life, only to tell this news.
That I, Miles Metaphor, your worship's clerk,
Have e'en been beaten to an allegory,
By multitude of hands. Had they been but
Some five or six, I had whipp'd them all, like tops
In Lent, and hurl'd them into Hobler's hole,
Or the next ditch; I had crack'd all their costards,
As nimbly as a squirrel will crack nuts.
And flourished like to Hercules the porter[2]
Among the pages. But when they came on
Like hees about a hive, crows about carrion,
Flies about sweatmeats; nay, like watermen
About a fare: then was poor Metaphor
Glad to give up the honour of the day,
To quit his charge to them, and run away
To save his life, only to tell this news.
Hugh. How indirectly all things are fallen out!
I cannot choose but wonder what they were
Rescued your rival from the keep of Miles;
But most of all, I cannot well digest
The manner how our purpose came to Turfe.
I cannot choose but wonder what they were
Rescued your rival from the keep of Miles;
But most of all, I cannot well digest
The manner how our purpose came to Turfe.
Pre. Miles, I will see that all thy hurts be drest.
As for the 'squire's escape, it matters not,
We have by this means disappointed him;
And that was all the main I aimed at.
But canon Hugh, now muster up thy wits,
And call thy thoughts into the consistory;
Search all the secret corners of thy cap,
To find another quaint devised drift,
To disappoint her marriage with this Clay:
Do that, and I'll reward thee jovially.
As for the 'squire's escape, it matters not,
We have by this means disappointed him;
And that was all the main I aimed at.
But canon Hugh, now muster up thy wits,
And call thy thoughts into the consistory;
Search all the secret corners of thy cap,
To find another quaint devised drift,
To disappoint her marriage with this Clay:
Do that, and I'll reward thee jovially.
Hugh. Well said, magister justice. If l fit you not
With such a new and well-laid stratagem,
As never yet your ears did hear a finer,
Call me with Lilly, Bos, Fur, Sus atque Sacerdos.
With such a new and well-laid stratagem,
As never yet your ears did hear a finer,
Call me with Lilly, Bos, Fur, Sus atque Sacerdos.
Pre. I hear there's comfort in thy words yet, Canon.
I'll trust thy regulars, and say no more.
[Exeunt Hugh and Pre.
I'll trust thy regulars, and say no more.
[Exeunt Hugh and Pre.
Met. I'll follow too. And if the dapper priest
Be but as cunning, point in his device,[3]
As I was in my lie, my master Bramble
Will stalk, as led by the nose with these new promises,
[Exit.And fatted with supposes of fine hopes.
Be but as cunning, point in his device,[3]
As I was in my lie, my master Bramble
Will stalk, as led by the nose with these new promises,
[Exit.And fatted with supposes of fine hopes.
- ↑ In time the stately ox—] Old Jeronymo again!
"In time the savage bull sustains the yoke," &c.
Lightly, in the next line, is commonly, usually. - ↑ Hercules the porter.] Sec p. 62.
- ↑ Be but as cunning, point in his device,] That is, be as exact and clever in his plot as I was in mine. See vol. iv. p. 169.