This same is he, that took an enterprise in hand;
This same is he that scarce one blow his enemy did withstand.
This same is he, that fought and fell in open field:
This same is he that in the song of Idleness did yield.
This same is he that was in way to win the game:
To join himself whereby he should have won immortal fame;
And now is wrapp'd in woe, and buried in despair.
O happy case for thee, if death would rid thee quite of care!
ACT V., SCAENA 2.
SHAME, REASON, SCIENCE, WIT.
REASON.
Shame.
SHAME.
Who calls for Shame?
REASON.
Here is a merchant,[431] Shame, for thee to tame.
SHAME.
A shame come to you all, for I am almost lame
With trudging up and down to them that lose their game.
REASON.
And here is one, whom thou must rightly blame,
That hath preferr'd his folly to his fame.
SHAME.
Who? this good fellow? what call you his name?
REASON.
Wit, that on wooing to lady Science came.
SHAME.
Come aloft, child, let me see, what friscols you can fet;[432]
REASON.
[If] he hath deserved it, let him be well-bet.
WIT.
O, spare me with the whip, and sle me with thy knife:
Ten thousand times more dear to me were present death than life.
SHAME.
Nay, nay, my friend, thou shalt not die as yet.
REASON.
Remember in what case dame Nature left thee, Wit;
And how thou hast abus'd the same--
Thou hast deceived all our hope, as all the world may see.
SHAME.
Pages:
247
248
249
250
251
252
253
254
255
256
257
258
259
260
261
262
263
264
265
266
267
268
269
270
271