BEL. The cover is pretty, and worth a million.

TRI.
_And when this chariot meets your eyes,
Where so much gold emboss'd doth rise
That people all astonished stand,
And Lais rides in triumph through the land,
Say no more it is amaranth,
Say rather it is o' my rent._

ARM. Oh, oh, oh! this is beyond everything; who would have expected
that?

PHI. He is the only one to write in such taste.

BEL. Say no more it is _amaranth, say rather it is o' my rent_!
It can be declined; _my rent; of my rent; to my rent; from my
rent_.

PHI. I do not know whether I was prepossessed from the first moment I
saw you, but I admire all your prose and verse whenever I see it.

TRI. (_to_ PHILAMINTE). If you would only show us something of
your composition, we could admire in our turn.

PHI. I have done nothing in verse; but I have reason to hope that I
shall, shortly, be able, as a friend, to show you eight chapters of
the plan of our Academy. Plato only touched on the subject when he
wrote the treatise of his Republic; but I will complete the idea as I
have arranged it on paper in prose. For, in short, I am truly angry at