pay it through his misery.

FULVIA. So gracious, famous consul, are thy words,
That Rome and we shall celebrate thy worth,
And Sylla shall confess himself o'ercome.

CORNELIA. If ladies' prayers or tears may move the heavens,
Sylla shall vow himself old Marius' friend.

MARIUS. Ladies, for that I nought at all regard:
Sylla's my foe, I'll triumph over him;
For other conquest glory doth not win.
Therefore come on,
That I may send you unto Sylla.

[_Exeunt_.

_Enter a_ CLOWN, _drunk, with a pint of wine in his hand,
and two or three_ SOLDIERS.

1ST SOLDIER. Sirrah, dally not with us; you know where he is.

CLOWN. O, sir, a quart is a quart in any man's purse, and drink is
drink, and can my master live without his drink, I pray you?

2D SOLDIER. You have a master then, sirrah?

CLOWN. Have I a master, thou scoundrel? I have an orator to my master,
a wise man to my master. But, fellows, I must make a parenthesis of
this pint-pot, for words make men dry: now, by my troth, I drink to
Lord Anthony.

3D SOLDIER. Fellow-soldiers, the weakness of his brain hath made his
tongue walk largely; we shall have some novelties by-and-by.

CLOWN. O most surpassing wine,
Thou marrow of the vine!
More welcome unto me
Than whips to scholars be.
Thou art, and ever was,
A means to mend an ass;
Thou makest some to sleep,
And many mo to weep,
And some be glad and merry,
With heigh down derry, derry.
Thou makest some to stumble,
And many mo to fumble,
And me have pinky neyne.[143]
More brave and jolly wine!
What need I praise thee mo,
For thou art good, with heigh-ho!

3D SOLDIER. If wine then be so good, I prithee, for thy part,
Tell us where Lord Anthony is, and thou shalt have a quart.

CLOWN. First shall the snow be black,
And pepper lose his smack,
And stripes forsake my back:
First merry drunk with sack,
I will go boast and track,
And all your costards crack,
Before I do the knack
Shall make me sing alack.
Alack, the old man is weary,
For wine hath made him merry.
With a heigh-ho.

1ST SOLDIER. I prythee leave these rhymes, and tell us where thy
master is?

CLOWN. Faith, where you shall not be,
Unless ye go with me.
But shall I tell them so?
O, no, sir, no, no, no.
The man hath many a foe,
As far as I do know:
You do not flout me, I hope.
See how this liquor fumes,
And how my force presumes.
You would know where Lord Anthony is? I perceive you.
Shall I sa