CUP. Not better than Mercury commends him.
MER. O, Cupid, 'tis beyond my deity to give him his due praises:
I could leave my place in heaven to live among mortals, so I were
sure to be no other than he.
CUP. 'Slight, I believe he is your minion, you seem to be so
ravish'd with him.
MER. He's one I would not have a wry thought darted against,
willingly.
CUP. No, but a straight shaft in his bosom I'll promise him, if I
am Cytherea's son.
MER. Shall we go, Cupid?
CUP. Stay, and see the ladies now: they'll come presently. I'll
help to paint them.
MER. What lay colour upon colour! that affords but an ill blazon.
CUP. Here comes metal to help it, the lady Argurion.
[ARGURION PASSES OVER THE STAGE.]
MER. Money, money.
CUP. The same. A nymph of a most wandering and giddy disposition,
humorous as the air, she'll run from gallant to gallant, as they
sit at primero in the presence, most strangely, and seldom stays
with any. She spreads as she goes. To-day you shall have her look
as clear and fresh as the morning, and to-morrow as melancholic as
midnight. She takes special pleasure in a close obscure lodging,
and for that cause visits the city so often, where she has many
secret true concealing favourites.
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