returned with the rest of his fellow bottlemen. -- There they all
drink, save Argurion, who is fallen into a sudden apoplexy --

1 CHILD. Stop his mouth.

3 CHILD. And then there's a retired scholar there, you would not
wish a thing to be better contemn'd of a society of gallants, than
it is; and he applies his service, good gentleman, to the Lady
Arete, or Virtue, a poor nymph of Cynthia's train, that's scarce
able to buy herself a gown; you shall see her play in a black robe
anon: a creature, that, I assure you, is no less scorn'd than
himself. Where am I now? at a stand!

2 CHILD. Come, leave at last, yet.

3 CHILD. O, the night is come ('twas somewhat dark, methought),
and Cynthia intends to come forth; that helps it a little yet. All
the courtiers must provide for revels; they conclude upon a masque,
the device of which is -- What, will you ravish me? -- that each of
these Vices, being to appear before Cynthia, would seem other than
indeed they are; and therefore assume the most neighbouring Virtues
as their masking habit -- I'd cry a rape, but that you are
children.

2 CHILD. Come, we'll have no more of this anticipation; to give
them the inventory of their cates aforehand, were the discipline of
a tavern, and not fitting this presence.

1 CHILD. Tut, this was but to shew us the happiness of his memory.
I thought at first he would have plaid the ignorant critic with