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Jonson, Ben, 1573-1637

"Cynthia's Revels"


PHI Nor I, I'll be sworn: the very mention of it sets my lips in a
worse heat, than if he had sprinkled them with mercury. Reach me
the glass, sirrah.
CUP. Here, lady.
MOR. They do not peel, sweet charge, do they?
PHI. Yes, a little, guardian.
MOR. O, 'tis an eminent good sign. Ever when my lips do so, I am
sure to have some delicious good drink or other approaching.
ARG. Marry, and this may be good for us ladies, for it seems 'tis
far fet by their stay.
MOR. My palate for yours, dear Honour, it shall prove most elegant
I warrant you. O, I do fancy this gear that's long a coming, with
an unmeasurable strain.
PHA. Pray thee sit down, Philautia; that rebatu becomes thee
singularly.
PHI. Is it not quaint?
PHA. Yes faith. Methinks, thy servant Hedon is nothing so
obsequious to thee, as he was wont to be: I know not how, he is
grown out of his garb a-late, he's warp'd.
MOR. In trueness, and so methinks too; he is much converted.
PHI. Tut; let him be what he will, 'tis an animal I dream not of.
This tire, methinks, makes me look very ingeniously, quick, and
spirited; I should be some Laura, or some Delia, methinks.
MOR. As I am wise, fair Honours, that title she gave him, to be
her Ambition, spoil'd him: before, he was the most propitious and
observant young novice --
PHA.


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