Supposing her the queen of loves
That was thy mistress, BEST OF GLOVES.
MER. Blasphemy, blasphemy, Cupid!
CUP. I'll revenge it time enough, Hermes.
PHI. Good Amorphus, let's hear it sung.
AMO. I care not to admit that, since it pleaseth Philautia to
request it.
HED. Here, sir.
AMO. Nay, play it, I pray you; you do well, you do well.
[HE SINGS IT.] -- How like you it, sir?
HED. Very well, in troth.
AMO. But very well! O, you are a mere mammothrept in judgment,
then. Why, do not observe how excellently the ditty is affected in
every place? that I do not marry a word of short quantity to a
long note? nor an ascending syllable to a descending tone?
Besides, upon the word "best" there, you see how I do enter with an
odd minum, and drive it through the brief; which no intelligent
musician, I know, but will affirm to be very rare, extraordinary,
and pleasing.
MER. And yet not fit to lament the death of a lady, for all this.
CUP. Tut, here be they will swallow anything.
PHA. Pray you, let me have a copy of it, Amorphus.
PHI. And me too; in troth I like it exceedingly.
AMO. I have denied it to princes; nevertheless to you, the true
female twins of perfection, I am won to depart withal.
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