The guardian, a comedie acted before Prince Charls, His Highness at Trinity-Colledg in Cambridge, upon the twelfth of March, 1641
Cowley, Abraham, 1618-1667.

Act. 3. Scaen. 4.

Dogrel, Puny.
Pun.

But how shall I represent this An∣thropophagus?

Dog.

Onely speak softly, lest she chance to know your voice.

Pun.

I warrant you I'll whisper like wet wood in a Justices chimney at Christmas.

Dog.

But of all things, take heed of too much wit; that's always dangerous, but especially now. Truman, you know, is an ho∣nest harmless fellow, and is contented to speak sense.

Pun.

I, hang him; there's clotted cream in his head in stead of brains; and no more o' that then will compleatly serve to fill the eye of a needle. But I shall ne'er abstain from these fine things, hyperboles and simi∣litudes: my nature stands a tiptoe: Truman has got the cramp; his genius is like some gouty Alderman's that sits in a chair. An' I were in Phalaris's Bull, I think I should be witty.

Dog.

Nay, I know't; a man may as Page  [unnumbered] well keep a prentice from Moor-fields on a holiday, as you from your Muses, and Ca∣nundrums; they're meat and drink to you.

Pun.

No, my good bag-pipe, they're meat and drink to you, that feed by 'um.

Dog.

I see you're ashamed of the Muses, and I hope they're even with you. But so much for this: youll finde wine, I hope, when I have found you the wenh.

Pun.

Though thou wouldst drink cups bigger then Pals-steeple, or the great bell at Westminster, thou shouldst have 'um. How long dost thou think has this night worn her mourning-gown, and lookt like a funeral?

Dog.

Indeed, she has many torches. Why sure, 'tis just about the Critical time which she appointed. You know your busi∣ness: First break a piece of Gold; profess before Heav'n and Angels, you take her for your wife; then give her half of it: and after that, somewhat as you understand me.

Pun.

Will she be malleable, d'ye think? Shall I stamp Puny on her?

Dog.

There's a Metaphor indeed! It seems 'tis the fashion; you take your wife for Gold. Hark! the door opens, use your fortune well.

Exit.

Pun.

Now, if my Alcocadin be right, I'm sure, I am made.

She opens the door, and lets him in.