Page:Works of Sir John Suckling.djvu/314

294 Clar. So there is but this: the wanton king this night

Thinks to embrace my sister: his bed shall prove

His grave; his own favourite shall make it so.

I have persuaded him

She yields, and this night doth expect him: he,

To make sure o' th' husband, by my advice, as if

He did intend some jest, means to change lodgings

With wrong'd Florelio the favourite.

Petruchio, welcome! You have other clothes;

These I should borrow for a little while:

In masquing times disguises are in fashion.

I have a pretty plot in hand;

And, if it take, 'twill be some crowns in thy way.

Pet. I shall pray hard it may, sir;

My clothes, howsoever, are at your service.

Clar. And I

At yours, Petruchio. But you must be dumb

And secret now.

Pet. As any statue, sir.

Clar. Come, then, let us about it!

Drol. A rare masque, no doubt; who contriv'd it?

Lep. Marry, he that says 'tis good, howsoe'er he has made it,

Signior Multecarni.

Drol. Who, the poet-laureat?

Lep. The same.

Drol. O, then, 'twere blasphemy to speak against it.

What, are we full

Of Cupids? Do we sail upon the vast,

And re-sail, and fetch the masque from the clouds?

Lep. Away, critic! thou never understood'st him.

Drol. Troth, I confess it; but my comfort is,

Others are troubled with the same disease,

'Tis epidemical, Lepido; take't on my word.

And so let's in, and see how things go forward.