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The Poetaster by Ben Jonson
page 61 of 324 (18%)

Chloe. A pox on them! what do they here?

Alb. How now, wife! would'st thou not have them come?

Chloe. Come! Come, you are a fool, you.--He knows not the trick
on't. Call Cytheris, I pray you: and, good master Crispinus,
you can observe, you say; let me entreat you for all the ladies'
behaviours, jewels, jests, and attires, that you marking, as well
as I, we may put both our marks together, when they are gone, and
confer of them.

Cris. I warrant you, sweet lady; let me alone to observe till I
turn myself to nothing but observation.--
[Enter CYTHERIS.
Good morrow, cousin Cytheris.

Cyth. Welcome, kind cousin. What! are they come?

Alb. Ay, your friend Cornelius Gallus, Ovid, Tibullus, Propertius,
with Julia, the emperor's daughter, and the lady Plautia, are
'lighted at the door; and with them Hermogenes Tigellius, the
excellent musician.

Cyth. Come, let us go meet them, Chloe.

Chloe. Observe, Crispinus.

Crisp. At a hail's breadth, lady, I warrant you.

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