had been long sick of a pain in his eyes, whom, under pretence of curing his malady, he shaved from one side of his head to the other, and with a soft pencil wrote upon his scalp (as on parchment) the discourse of his business, the fellow all the while imagining his master had done nothing but ’noint his head with a feather.  After this he kept him secretly in his tent, till his hair was somewhat grown, and then willed him to go to Aristagoras into the country, and bid him shave him as he had done, and he should have perfect remedy.  He did so, Aristagoras shaved him with his own hands, read his friend’s letter, and when he had done, washed it out, that no man should perceive it else, and sent him home to buy him a nightcap.  If I wist there were any such knavery, or Peter Bales’s brachygraphy,[58] under Sol’s bushy hair, I would have a barber, my host of the Murrion’s Head, to be his interpreter, who would whet his razor on his Richmond cap, and give him the terrible cut like himself, but he would come as near as a quart pot to the construction of it.  To be sententious, not superfluous, Sol should have been beholding to the barber, and not to the beard-master.[59] Is it pride that is shadowed under this two-legg’d sun, that never came nearer heaven than Dubber’s hill?  That pride is not my sin, Sloven’s Hall, where I was born, be my record.  As for covetousness, intemperance, and exaction, I meet with nothing in a whole year but a cup of wine for such vices to be conversant in. Pergite porro, my good children,[60] and multiply the sins of your absurdities, till you come to the full measure of the grand hiss, and you shall hear how we shall purge rheum with censuring your imperfections.

SUM.  Vertumnus, call Orion.

VER.  Orion, Urion, Arion; My lord thou must look upon.  Orion, gentleman dog-keeper, huntsman, come into the court:  look you bring all hounds and no bandogs.  Peace there, that we may hear their horns blow.

    Enter ORION like a hunter, with a horn about his neck, all
    his men after the same sort hallooing and blowing their horns.

ORION.  Sirrah, was’t thou that call’d us from our game? 
How durst thou (being but a petty god)
Disturb me in the entrance of my sports?

SUM.  ’Twas I, Orion, caus’d thee to be call’d.

ORION.  ’Tis I, dread lord, that humbly will obey.

SUM.  How happ’st thou left’st the heavens to hunt below? 
As I remember thou wert Hyrieus’[61] son,
Whom of a huntsman Jove chose for a star,
And thou art call’d the Dog-star, art thou not?

AUT.  Please it, your honour, heaven’s circumference
Is not enough for him to hunt and range,
But with those venom-breathed curs he leads,
He comes to chase health from our earthly bounds. 
Each one of those foul-mouthed, mangy dogs
Governs a day (no dog but hath his day):[62]
And all the days by them so governed
The dog-days hight; infectious fosterers