Digital Renaissance Editions

About this text

  • Title: An Humorous Day's Mirth (Quarto 1, 1599)
  • Editor: Eleanor Lowe
  • Coordinating editor: Brett Greatley-Hirsch
  • General textual editor: Helen Ostovich
  • ISBN: 978-1-55058-513-1

    Copyright Digital Renaissance Editions. This text may be freely used for educational, non-profit purposes; for all other uses contact the Editor.
    Author: George Chapman
    Editor: Eleanor Lowe
    Peer Reviewed

    An Humorous Day's Mirth (Quarto 1, 1599)

    An humorous
    Co. But to intreat her loue.
    Mor. Nay heare me out.
    455Co. Nay here you are out, you are out too much me
    thinkes, and put me in.
    Mor. And put you in?
    Co. In a faire taking sir I meane.
    Mor. O you may see what hastie taking is, you women
    460euer more scramble for our woordes, and neuer take them
    mannerly from our mouths.
    Con. Come tell me what you did intreat.
    Mor. I did intreat her loue to Colinet.
    Con. To Colinet? O he is your deare cousen, and your
    465kinde heart yfaith is neuer well but when you are doing
    good for euery man: speake, do you loue me?
    Mor. Yfaith sweete bird.
    Con. Best of all others.
    Mor. Best of all others?
    470Con. Thats my good bird yfaith.
    Besh. O mistris, will you loue me so?
    Mor. No by my troth will I not.
    Besh. No by my troth will I not? Why thats well said I
    could neuer get her to flatter me yet.
    475Enter Lemot,Blanuel, and Catalian, and Colinet.
    Le. Good morrow my good Lord, and these passing
    louely Ladies.
    Cat. So now we shall haue all maner of flattering with
    Monsieur Lemot.
    480Le. You are all manner of waies deceiued Madam, for
    I am so farre from flattering you, that I do not a whit
    praise you.
    Con. Why do you call vs passing louely then?
    Lem. Because you are passing from your louelines.
    485Mar. Madam we shall not haue one mot of Monsieur
    Lemot, but it shal be as it were a mote to drown al our con-
    ceit in admiration.
    Le. See what a mote her quick eye can spie in mine, be-