_Wit._ What weapons of Science should I have?
_Inst._ Such as all lovers of their loves crave: A token from Lady Science whereby Hope of her favour may spring, and thereby Comfort; which is the weapon doubtless That must serve you against Tediousness.
_Wit._ If hope or comfort may be my weapon, Then never with Tediousness me threaten; For, as for hope of my dear heart's favour-- And thereby comfort--enough I gather.
_Inst._ Wit, hear me! Till I see Confidence Have brought some token from Lady Science, That I may feel that she favoureth you, Ye pass not this way, I tell you true.
_Inst._ A plainer way, I told ye, Out of danger from your foe to hold ye.
_Wit._ Instruction, hear me! Or my sweetheart Shall hear that Wit from that wretch shall start One foot, this body and all shall crack! Forth I will, sure, whatever I lack!
_Dil._ If ye lack weapon, sir, here is one!
_Wit._ Well said, Diligence, thou art alone! How say ye, sir? is not here weapon?
_Inst._ With that weapon your enemy never threaten; For without the return of Confidence Ye may be slain, sure, for all Diligence!
_Dil._ Good, sir! and Diligence, I tell you plain, Will play the man or my master be slain!
_Inst._ Yea, but what? saith Study no word to this?
_Wit._ No, sir! ye know Study's office is Meet for the chamber, not for the field-- But tell me, Study, wilt thou now yield?
_Study._ My head acheth sore; I would we return.
_Wit._ Thy head ache now? I would it were burn! Come on! walking may hap to ease thee.
_Inst._ And will ye be gone, then, without me?
_Wit._ Yea, by my faith, except ye hie ye after, Reason shall know ye are but an hafter.
_Inst._ Well, go your way! When your father, Reason, Heareth how ye obey me, at this season, I think he will think his daughter now May marry another man for you. When wits stand so in their own conceit, Best let them go; till pride, at his height, Turn and cast them down headlong again: And ye shall see proved by this Wit, plain. If Reason hap not to come, the rather His own destruction he will sure gather; Wherefore to Reason will I now get me, Leaving that charge whereabout he set me.
TEDIOUSNESS _cometh in with a visor over his head._
[_Tediousness._] Oh, the body of me! What caitiffs be those That will not once flee From Tediousness' nose; But thus disease me Out of my nest, When I should ease me This body to rest! That Wit, that villain, That wretch--a shame take him! It is he plain That thus bold doth make him, Without my licence To stalk by my door To that drab, Science, To wed that whore! But I defy her; And, for that drab's sake, Or Wit come nigh her, The knave's head shall ache; These bones, this mall, Shall beat him to dust Or that drab shall Once quench that knave's lust! But, ha! methinks I am not half lusty; These joints, these links, Be rough and half rusty; I must go shake them, Supple to make them! Stand back, ye wretches! Beware the fetches Of Tediousness. These caitiffs to bless, Make room, I say; Round every way-- This way, that way! What cares what way? Before me, behind me, Round about wind me! Now I begin To sweat in my skin; Now am I nemble To make them tremble. Pash head! pash brain! The knaves are slain, All that I hit! Where art thou, Wit! Thou art but dead! Off goeth thy head At the first blow! Ho, ho! ho ho! [WIT _speaketh at the door_.