Brain. I dwell not on your commendations. What say you, sir? [To WOOD.] Is it not admirable? Do you enter into it?
Wood. Most delicate cadence!
Brain. Gad, I think so, without vanity. Battist and I have but one soul. But the close, the close! [Sings it thrice over.] I have words too upon the air; but I am naturally so bashful!
Wood. Will you oblige me, sir?
Brain. You might command me, sir; for I sing too en cavalier: but—
Limb. But you would be entreated, and say, Nolo, nolo, nolo, three times, like any bishop, when your mouth waters at the diocese.
Brain. I have no voice; but since this gentleman
commands me, let the words commend themselves.
[Sings.
My Phillis is charming—
Limb. But why, of all names, would you chuse a Phillis? There have been so many Phillises in songs, I thought there had not been another left, for love or money.
Brain. If a man should listen to a fop!
[Sings.
My Phillis—
Aldo. Before George, I am on t’other side: I think, as good no song, as no Phillis.
Brain. Yet again!—My Phillis— [Sings.
Limb. Pray, for my sake, let it be your Chloris.
Brain. [Looking scornfully at him.] My Phillis— [Sings.
Limb. You had as good call her your Succuba.
Brain. Morbleu! will you not give me leave? I am full of Phillis. [Sings.] My Phillis—
Limb. Nay, I confess, Phillis is a very pretty name.
Brain. Diable! Now I will not sing, to spite you. By the world, you are not worthy of it. Well, I have a gentleman’s fortune; I have courage, and make no inconsiderable figure in the world: yet I would quit my pretensions to all these, rather than not be author of this sonnet, which your rudeness has irrevocably lost.
Limb. Some foolish French quelque chose, I warrant you.
Brain. Quelque chose! O ignorance, in supreme perfection! he means a kek shose[9].
Limb. Why a kek shoes let it be then! and a kek shoes for your song.
Brain. I give to the devil such a judge. Well, were I to be born again, I would as soon be the elephant, as a wit; he’s less a monster in this age of malice. I could burn my sonnet, out of rage.
Limb. You may use your pleasure with your own.
Wood. His friends would not suffer him: Virgil was not permitted to burn his AEneids.
Brain. Dear sir, I’ll not die ungrateful for your approbation. [Aside to WOOD.] You see this fellow? he is an ass already; he has a handsome mistress, and you shall make an ox of him ere long.