puppy, and swallow that camel of camels, a page!

Page. Do you call me a camel, Sir?

Wal. What’s your business?

Page. My errand is to the Princess here.

Eliz. To me?

Page. Yes; the Landgravine expects you at high mass; so go in, and mind you clean yourself; for every one is not as fond as you of beggars’ brats, and what their clothes leave behind them.

Isen [strikes him]. Monkey! To whom are you speaking?

Eliz. Oh, peace, peace, peace! I’ll go with him.

Page. Then be quick, my music-master’s waiting. Corpo di Bacco! as if our elders did not teach us to whom we ought to be rude! [Ex. Eliz. and Page.]

Isen. See here, Sir Saxon, how this pearl of priceIs faring in your hands! The peerless image,To whom this court is but the tawdry frame,—The speck of light amid its murky baseness,—The salt which keeps it all from rotting,—castTo be the common fool,—the laughing stockFor every beardless knave to whet his wit on!Tar-blooded Germans!—Here’s another of them.

[A young Knight enters.]

Knight. Heigh! Count! What? learning to sing psalms? They are waitingFor you in the manage-school, to give your judgmentOn that new Norman mare.

Wal. Tell them I’m busy.

Knight. Busy? St. Martin! Knitting stockings, eh?To clothe the poor withal? Is that your business?I passed that canting baby on the stairs;Would heaven that she had tripped, and broke her goose-neck,And left us heirs de facto. So, farewell. [Exit.]

Wal. A very pretty quarrel! matter enoughTo spoil a waggon-load of ash-staves on,And break a dozen fools’ backs across their cantlets.What’s Lewis doing?

Isen. Oh—befooled,—Bewitched with dogs and horses, like an idiotClutching his bauble, while a priceless jewelSticks at his miry heels.

Wal. The boy’s no fool,—As good a 

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