Jul.  We thank you, good Albius:  but when shall we see those excellent jewels you are commended to have?

Alb.  At your ladyship’s service.—­I got that speech by seeing a play last day, and it did me some grace now:  I see, ’tis good to collect sometimes; I’ll frequent these plays more than I have done, now I come to be familiar with courtiers. [Aside.

Gal.  Why, how now, Hermogenes? what ailest thou, trow?

Her, A little melancholy; let me alone, prithee.

Gal.  Melancholy I how so?

Her.  With riding:  a plague on all coaches for me!

Chloe.  Is that hard-favour’d gentleman a poet too, Cytheris?

Cyth.  No, this is Hermogenes:  as humorous as a poet, though:  he is a musician.

Chloe.  A musician! then he can sing.

Cyth.  That he can, excellently; did you never hear him?

Chloe.  O no:  will he be entreated, think you?

Cyth.  I know not.—­Friend, mistress Chloe would fain hear
Hermogenes sing:  are you interested in him?

Gal.  No doubt, his own humanity will command him so far, to the satisfaction of so fair a beauty; but rather than fail, we’ll all be suitors to him.

Her.  ’Cannot sing.

Gal.  Prithee, Hermogenes.

Her.  ’Cannot sing.

Gal.  For honour of this gentlewoman, to whose house I know thou mayest be ever welcome.

Chloe.  That he shall, in truth, sir, if he can sing.

Ovid.  What’s that?

Gal.  This gentlewoman is wooing Hermogenes for a song.

Ovid.  A song! come, he shall not deny her.  Hermogenes!

Her.  ’Cannot sing.

Gal.  No, the ladies must do it; he stays but to have their thanks acknowledged as a debt to his cunning.

Jul.  That shall not want; ourself will be the first shall promise to pay him more than thanks, upon a favour so worthily vouchsafed.

Her.  Thank you, madam; but ’will not sing.

Tib.  Tut, the only way to win him, is to abstain from entreating him.

Cris:  Do you love singing, lady?

Chloe.  O, passingly.

Cris.  Entreat the ladies to entreat me to sing then, I beseech you.

Chloe.  I beseech your grace, entreat this gentleman to sing.

Jul.  That we will, Chloe; can he sing excellently?

Chloe.  I think so, madam; for he entreated me to entreat you to entreat him to sing.

Cris.  Heaven and earth! would you tell that?

Jul.  Good, sir, let’s entreat you to use your voice.

Cris.  Alas, madam, I cannot, in truth.

Fla.  The gentleman is modest:  I warrant you he sings excellently.

Ovid.  Hermogenes, clear your throat:  I see by him, here’s a gentleman will worthily challenge you.

Cris.  Not I, sir, I’ll challenge no man.

Tib.  That’s your modesty, sir; but we, out of an assurance of your excellency, challenge him in your behalf.