ENTER CUPID AND MERCURY, DISGUISED AS PAGES.

CUP. Why, this was most unexpectedly followed, my divine delicate
Mercury, by the beard of Jove, thou art a precious deity.

MER. Nay, Cupid, leave to speak improperly; since we are turn'd
cracks, let's study to be like cracks; practise their language, and
behaviours, and not with a dead imitation: Act freely, carelessly,
and capriciously, as if our veins ran with quicksilver, and not
utter a phrase, but what shall come forth steep'd in the very brine
of conceit, and sparkle like salt in fire.

CUP. That's not every one's happiness, Hermes: Though you can
presume upon the easiness and dexterity of your wit, you shall give
me leave to be a little jealous of mine; and not desperately to
hazard it after your capering humour.

MER. Nay, then, Cupid, I think we must have you hood-wink'd again;
for you are grown too provident since your eyes were at liberty.

CUP. Not so, Mercury, I am still blind Cupid to thee.

MER. And what to the lady nymph you serve?

CUP. Troth, page, boy, and sirrah: these are all my titles.

MER. Then thou hast not altered thy name with thy disguise?

CUP. O, no, that had been supererogation; you shall never hear