Page:The Works of Ben Jonson - Gifford - Volume 6.djvu/156

But all my warrants, sir, do run Preamble,
Richard Preamble.

 Hugh. Sir, I thank you for it,
That your good worship would not let me run
Longer in error, but would take me up thus.

 Pre. You are my learned and canonic neighbour,
I would not have you stray; but the incorrigible
Nott headed beast, the clowns, or constables,
Still let them graze, eat sallads, chew the cud:
All the town music will not move a log.

 Hugh. The beetle and wedges will where you will have them.

 Pre. True, true, sir Hugh.

Enter Metaphor.

Here comes Miles Metaphor,
My clerk; he is the man shall carry it, canon,
By my instructions.

 Hugh. He will do it ad unguem,
Miles Metaphor! he is a pretty fellow.

 Pre. I love not to keep shadows, or half-wits,
To foil a business.—Metaphor, you have seen
A king ride forth in state.^[1]

 Met. Sir, that I have:
King Edward our late liege, and sovereign lord;
And have set down the pomp.

 Pre. Therefore I ask'd you.
Have you observ'd the messengers of the chamber,
What habits they were in?

 Met. Yes, minor coats,

1. ———Metaphor, you have seen
   A king ride forth in state.] Our old chronicles and historians are very large in their descriptions of such pageants: Holinshed and Stow give us many instances of the sovereign's riding in great state through the city, attended by his guards and nobles. Whal.