Cynthia's Revels
Ben Johnson
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INDUCTION.
PROLOGUE.
ACT I
ACT II
ACT III
ACT IV
ACT V
Prepared by
Sue Asscher asschers@dingoblue.net.au
and Amy E Zelmer a.zelmer@cqu.edu.au
CYNTHIA'S REVELS:
OR, THE FOUNTAIN OF SELF-LOVE
TO THE SPECIAL FOUNTAIN OF MANNERS
THE COURT
THOU art a bountiful and brave spring, and waterest all the noble
plants of this island. In thee the whole kingdom dresseth itself, and
is ambitious to use thee as her glass. Beware then thou render men's
figures truly, and teach them no less to hate their deformities, than
to love their forms: for, to grace, there should come reverence; and
no man can call that lovely, which is not also venerable. It is not
powdering, perfuming, and every day smelling of the tailor, that
converteth to a beautiful object: but a mind shining through any suit,
which needs no false light, either of riches or honours, to help it.
Such shalt thou find some here, even in the reign of Cynthia, — a
Crites and an Arete. Now, under thy Phoebus, it will be thy province
to make more; except thou desirest to have thy source mix with the
spring of self-love, and so wilt draw upon thee as welcome a discovery
of thy days, as was then made of her nights.
Thy servant, but not slave,
BEN JONSON.
DRAMATIS PERSONAE.
CYNTHIA.
ECHO.
MERCURY.
ARETE.
HESPERUS.
PHANTASTE.
CRITES.
AMORPHUS.
ARGURION.
PHILAUTIA.
ASOTUS.
MORIA.
HEDON.
COS.
ANAIDES.
GELAIA.
MORPHIDES.
PROSAITES.
MORUS.
CUPID.
MUTES. — PHRONESIS, THAUMA, TIME
SCENE, — GARGAPHIE
THE STAGE.
AFTER THE SECOND SOUNDING.
ENTER THREE OF THE CHILDREN, STRUGGLING..
1 CHILD. Pray you away; why, fellows! Gods so, what do
you mean?
2 CHILD. Marry, that you shall not speak the prologue sir.
3 CHILD. Why, do you hope to speak it?
2 CHILD. Ay, and I think I have most right to it: I am
sure I studied it
first.
3 CHILD. That's all one, if the author think I can speak
it better.
1 CHILD. I plead possession of the cloak: gentles, your
suffrages I pray you.
[WITHIN.] Why children! are you not ashamed? come in there.
Within.
3 CHILD. 'Slid, I'll play nothing in the play: unless I
speak it.
1 CHILD Why, will you stand to most voices of the
gentlemen? let that
decide it.
3 CHILD. O, no, sir gallant; you presume to have the start
of us there,
and that makes you offer so prodigaly.
1 CHILD. No, would I were whipped, if I had any such
thought; try it by
lots either.
2 CHILD. Faith, I dare tempt my fortune, in a greater
venture than this.
3 CHILD. Well said, resolute Jack! I am content too; so we
draw first.
Make the cuts.
1 CHILD. But will you not snatch my Cloak while I am
stooping?
3 CHILD. No, we scorn treachery.
2 CHILD. Which cut shall speak it?
3 CHILD. The shortest.
1 CHILD. Agreed: draw. [THEY DRAW CUTS.] The shortest
is come to the
shortest. Fortune was not altogether blind in this. Now, sir, I
hope I
shall go forward without your envy.
2 CHILD A spite of all mischievous luck! I was once
plucking at the other.
3 CHILD. Stay Jack: 'Slid I'll do somewhat now afore I go
in, though it be
nothing but to revenge myself on the author; since I speak not
his prologue, I'll go tell all the argument of his play
afore-hand, and
so stale his invention to the auditory, before it come forth.
1 CHILD. O, do not so.
2 CHILD. By no means.
3 CHILD. [ADVANCING TO THE FRONT OF THE STAGE.] First, the
title of his
play is 'Cynthia's Revels', as any man that hath hope to be saved
by his
book can witness; the scene, Gargaphie, which I do vehemently
suspect for
some fustian country; but let that vanish. Here is the court of
Cynthia
whither he brings Cupid (travelling on foot) resolved to turn
page. By the
way Cupid meets with Mercury, (as that's a thing to be noted);take
any of
our Play-books without a Cupid, or a Mercury in it, and burn it
for an
heretic in poetry. — [IN THESE AND THE SUBSEQUENT SPEECHES, AT
EVERY
BREAK, THE OTHER TWO INTERRUPT, AND ENDEAVOUR TO STOP HIM.] Pray
thee, let
me alone. Mercury, he in the nature of a conjurer raises up Echo,
who
weeps over her love, or daffodil, Narcissus, a little; sings;
curses the
spring wherein the pretty foolish gentleman melted himself away:
and
there's an end of her. — Now, I am to inform you, that Cupid and
Mercury
do both become pages. Cupid attends on Philautia, or Self-love, a
court
lady: Mercury follows Hedon, the Voluptuous, and a courtier; one
that ranks
himself even with Anaides, or the Impudent, a gallant, and, that's
my part;
one that keeps Laughter, Gelaia, the daughter of Folly, a wench in
boy's
attire, to wait on him — These, in the court, meet with Amorphus,
a
traveller that hath drunk of the fountain, and there tells the
wonders of
the Water. They presently dispatch away their pages with bottles
to fetch
of it, and themselves go to visit the ladies. But I should have
told you
— Look, these emmets put me out here — that with this Amorphus,
there
comes along a citizen's heir, Asotus, or the Prodigal, who, in
imitation of
the traveller, who hath the Whetstone following him, entertains
the Beggar,
to be his attendant. — Now, the nymphs who are mistresses, to
these
gallants, are Philautia, Self-love; Phantaste, a light Wittiness;
Argurion,
Money; and their guardian, mother
Moria; or mistress Folly.
1 CHILD. Pray thee, no more.
3 CHILD. There Cupid strikes Money in love with the
Prodigal, makes her
dote upon him, give him jewels, bracelets, carcanets, etc. All
which he
most ingeniously departs withal, to be made known to the other
ladies and
gallants; and in the heat of this, increases his train with the
Fool to
follow him, as well as the Beggar — By this time your Beggar
begins to
wait close, who is returned with the rest of his fellow bottlemen.
— There
they all drink, save Argurion, who is fallen into a sudden
apoplexy —
1 CHILD. Stop his mouth.
3 CHILD. And then there's a retired scholar there, you
would not wish a
thing to be better contemn'd of a society of gallant, than it is;
and he
applies his service, good gentleman, to the Lady Arete, or Virtue,
a poor
nymph of Cynthia's train, that's scarce able to buy herself a
gown; you
shall see her play in a black robe anon: a creature, that, I
assure you, is
no less scorn'd, than himself. Where am I now? at a stand!
2 CHILD. Come, leave at last,
3 CHILD. O, the night is come ('twas somewhat dark,
methought), and
Cynthia intends to come forth; that helps it a little yet. All the
courtiers must provide for revels; they conclude upon a masque,
the device
of which is — What, will you ravish me? that each of these Vices,
being to
appear before Cynthia, would seem other than indeed they are; and
therefore
assume the most neighbouring Virtues as their masking habit — I'd
cry a
rape, but that you are children.
2 CHILD. Come, we'll have no more of this anticipation; to
give them the
inventory of their cates aforehand, were the discipline of a
tavern, and
not fitting this presence.
1 CHILD. Tut, this was but to shew us the happiness of his
memory. I
thought at first he would have plaid the ignorant critic with
everything
along as he had gone; I expected some such device.
3 CHILD. O, you shall see me do that rarely; lend me thy
cloak.
1 CHILD. Soft sir, you'll speak my prologue in it.
3 CHILD. No, would I might never stir then.
2 CHILD. Lend it him, lend it him:
1 CHILD. Well, you have sworn.
[GIVES HIM THE CLOAK.
3 CHILD. I have. Now, sir; suppose I am one of your
genteel auditors,
that am come in, having paid my money at the door, with much ado,
and here
I take my place, and sit down: I have my three sorts of tobacco,
in my
pocket, my light by me, and thus I begin. [AT THE BREAKS HE TAKES
HIS
TOBACCO.] By this light, I wonder that any man is so mad, to come
to see
these rascally tits play here — They do act like so many wrens or
pismires
— not the fifth part of a good face amongst them all. — And then
their
Music is abominable — able to stretch a mans ears worse, then ten
—
pillories and their ditties — most lamentable things, like the
pitiful
fellows that makes them — poets. By this vapour, if it were not
for
Tobacco — I think — the very stench of 'em would poison me, I
should not
dare to come in at their gates — A man were better visit fifteen
jails —
or a dozen or two of hospitals — then once adventure to come near
them.
How is it? well?
1 CHILD. Excellent; give me my cloak.
3 CHILD. Stay; you shall see me do another now: but a more
sober, or
better-gather'd gallant; that is, as it may be thought, some
friend, or
well-wisher to the house: and here I enter.
1 CHILD. What? upon the stage too?
2 CHILD. Yes; and I step forth like one of the children,
and ask you.
Would you have stool sir?
3 CHILD. A stool, boy!
2 CHILD. Ay, sir, if you'll give me sixpence, I'll fetch
you one.
3 CHILD. For what I pray thee? what shall I do with it?
2 CHILD. O lord, sir! will you betray your Ignorance so
much? Why,
throne yourself in state on the stage, as other gentlemen use sir.
3 CHILD. Away, wag: what would'st thou make an Implement
of me? 'Slid, the
boy takes me for a piece of perspective, I hold my life, or some
silk
curtain, come to hang the stage here! Sir crack, I am none of your
fresh
pictures, that use to beautify the decayed dead arras, in a public
theatre.
2 CHILD. 'Tis a sign, sir, you put not that confidence in
your good
clothes, and your better face, that a gentleman should do, sir.
But I pray
you sir, let me be a suitor to you, that you will quit our stage
then, and
take a place; the play is instantly to begin.
3 CHILD. Most willingly my good wag; but I would speak
with your author:
where is he?
2 CHILD. Not this way, I assure you sir; we are not so
officiously
befriended by him, as to have his presence in the tiring-house, to
prompt
us aloud, stamp at the book-holder, swear for our properties,
curse the
poor tireman, rail the music out of tune, and sweat for every
venial
trespass we commit, as some author would, if he had such fine
enghles as
we. Well, 'tis but our hard fortune!
3 CHILD. Nay, crack be not disheartened.
2 CHILD. Not I sir; but if you please to confer with our
author by
attorney, you may, sir; our proper self here, stands for him.
3 CHILD. Troth, I have no such serious affair to negotiate
with him; but
what may very safely be turn'd upon thy trust. It is in the
general behalf of this fair Society here, that I am to speak; at
least the
more judicious part of it: which seems much distasted with the
immodest and obscene writing of many in their plays. Besides,
they could
wish your poets would leave to be promoters of other men's jests,
and to
way-lay all the stale apohthegms, or old books they can hear of.
in print
or otherwise, to farce their Scenes withal. That
they would not so penuriously glean wit, from every laundress, or
hackney-man; or derive their best grace, with servile Imitation,
from
common stages, or observation of the company, they converse with;
as if
their Invention lived wholly upon another man's trencher. Again;
that
feeding their friends with nothing of their own, but what they
have twice,
or thrice cooked, they should not wantonly give out,
how soon they had drest it; nor how many coaches came to carry
away the
broken meat, besides hobby-horses and foot-cloth nags.
2 CHILD. So, sir, this is all the reformation you seek?
3 CHILD. It is; do not you think it necessary to be
practised, my little wag?
2 CHILD. Yes; where any such ill-habited custom is
received.
3 CHILD. O (I had almost forgot it too), they say, the
umbrae, or ghosts
of some three or four plays departed a dozen years since, have
been seen
walking on your stage here; take heed boy, if your house be
haunted with
such hobgoblins, 'twill fright away all your spectators quickly.
2 CHILD Good, sir, but what will you say now, if a poet.
untouch'd with
any breath of this disease, find the tokens upon you, that are of
the
auditory? As some one civet-wit among you, that knows no other
learning,
than the price of satin and velvets: nor other perfection, than
the wearing
of a neat suit; and yet will censure as desperately as themost
profess'd
critic in the house, presuming, his clothes, should bear him out
in it.
Another, whom it hath pleased nature to furnish with more beard,
then
brain, prunes his mustaccio; lisps, and, with some score of
affected oaths,
swears down all that sit about him; "That the old Hieronimo, as
it was
first acted, was the only best, and judiciously penn'd play of
Europe". A
third great-bellied juggler talks of twenty years since, and when
Monsieur
was here, and would enforce all wits to be of that fashion,
because his
doublet is still so. A fourth miscalls all by the name of
fustian, that
his grounded capacity cannot aspire to. A fifth only shakes his
bottle
head, and out of his corky brain, squeezeth out a pitiful learned
face, and
is silent.
3 CHILD. By my faith, Jack, you have put me down: I would
I knew how to
get off with any indifferent grace! here take your cloak, and
promise some
satisfaction in your prologue, or, I'll be sworn, we have marr'd
all.
Exit.
2 CHILD. Tut, fear not, child, this will never distaste a
true sense: be
not out, and good enough. I would thou hadst some sugar candied,
to
sweeten thy mouth.
THE THIRD SOUNDING.
If gracious silence, sweet attention,
Quick sight, and quicker apprehension,
The lights of judgment's throne, shine any where,
Our doubtful author hopes this is their sphere
And therefore opens he himself to those,
To other weaker beams, his labours close;
As loth to prostitute their virgin-strain,
To every vulgar and adulterate brain.
In this alone, his Muse her sweetness hath,
She shuns the print of any beaten path;
And proves new ways to come to learned ears
Pied ignorance she neither loves, nor fears.
Nor hunts she after popular applause,
Or foamy praise, that drops from common jaws
The garland that she wears, their hands must twine,
Who can both censure, understand, define
What merit is: then cast those piercing rays,
Round as a crown, instead of honour'd bays,
About his poesy; which, he knows, affords,
Words above action: matter, above words.
SCENE I. — A GROVE AND FOUNTAIN.
ENTER CUPID, AND MERCURY WITH HIS CADUCEUS, ON DIFFERENT SIDES.
CUP. Who goes there?
MER. 'Tis I, blind archer.
CUP. Who, Mercury?
MER. Ay.
CUP. Farewell.
MER. Stay Cupid.
CUP. Not in your company Hermes, except your hands were
riveted at your back.
MER. Why so my little rover?
CUP. Because I know you have not a finger, but is as long
as my quiver,
cousin Mercury, when you please to extend it.
MER. Whence derive you this speech, boy?
CUP. O! 'tis your best polity to be Ignorant. You did
never steal Mars
his sword out of the sheath; you! nor Neptune's trident! nor
Apollo's bow!
no, not you! Alas, your palms, Jupiter knows, they are as tender
as the
foot of a foundered nag, or a lady's face new mercuried, they'll
touch
nothing.
MER. Go to, Infant, you'll be daring still.
CUP. Daring! O Janus! what a word is there? why, my light
feather-heel'd
coz, what are you, any more then my uncle Jove's pander? a
lacquey that
runs on errands for him, and can whisper a light message to a
loose wench
with some round volubility? wait mannerly at a table with a
trencher,
warble upon a crowd a little, and fill out nectar when Ganymede's
away?
one that sweeps the god's drinking-room every morning, and sets the
cushions in order again which they threw one at another's head
over night;
can brush the carpets, call the stools again to their places, play
the
crier of the court with an audible voice, and take state of a
president
upon you at wrestlings, pleadings, negociations, etc. Here's the
catalogue
of your employments, now! O, no, I err; you have the marshalling
of all
the ghosts too, that pass the Stygian ferry, and I suspect you for
a share
with the old sculler there, if the truth were known; but let that
scape.
One other peculiar virtue you possess, in lifting or
'leiger-du-main',
which few of the house of heaven have else besides, I must
confess. But,
methinks that should not make you put that extreme distance 'twixt
yourself
and others, that we should be said to 'over-dare" in speaking to
your
nimble deity. So Hercules might challenge a priority of us both,
because
he can throw the bar farther, or lift more join'd stools at the
arm's end,
than we. If this might carry it, then we, who have made the whole
body of
divinity tremble at the twang of our bow, and enforc'd Saturnius
himself to
lay by his curled front, thunder, and three-fork'd fires, and put
on a
masking suit, too light for a reveller of eighteen to be seen in —
MER. How now! my dancing braggart in 'decimo sexto'!
charm your skipping
tongue, or I'll —
CUP. What! use the virtue of your snaky tip staff there
upon us?
MER. No, boy, but the smart vigour of my palm about your
ears. You have
forgot since I took your heels up into air, on the very hour I was
born, in
sight of all the bench of deities, when the silver roof of the
Olympian
palace rung again with the applause of the fact.
CUP. O no, I remember it freshly, and by a particular
instance; for my
mother Venus, at the same time, but stoop'd to embrace you, and,
to speak
by metaphor, you borrow'd a girdle of her's, as you did Jove's
sceptre
while he was laughing; and would have done his thunder too, but
that 'twas
too hot for your itching fingers.
MER. 'Tis well, sir.
CUP. I heard, you but look'd in at Vulcan's forge the
other day, and
entreated a pair of his new tongs along with you for company:
'tis joy on
you, i' faith, that you will keep your hook'd talons in practice
with any
thing. 'Slight, now you are on earth, we shall have you filch
spoons and
candlesticks rather than fail: pray Jove the perfum'd courtiers
keep their
casting-bottles, pick-tooths, and shittle-cocks from you, or our
more
ordinary gallants their tobacco-boxes; for I am strangely jealous
of your
nails.
MER. Never trust me, Cupid, but you are turn'd a most
acute gallant of
late! the edge of my wit is clean taken off with the fine and
subtile
stroke of your thin-ground tongue; you fight with too poignant a
phrase,
for me to deal with.
CUP. O Hermes, your craft cannot make me confident. I
know my own steel
to be almost spent, and therefore entreat my peace with you, in
time: you
are too cunning for me to encounter at length, and I think it my
safest
ward to close.
MER. Well, for once, I'll suffer you to win upon me, wag;
but use not
these strains too often, they'll stretch my patience. Whither
might you
march, now?
CUP. Faith, to recover thy good thoughts, I'll discover my
whole project.
The huntress and queen of these groves, Diana, in regard of some
black and
envious slanders hourly breathed against her, for her divine
justice on
Acteon, as she pretends, hath here in the vale of Gargaphie,
proclaim'd a
solemn revels, which (her godhead put off) she will descend to
grace, with
the full and royal expense of one of her clearest moons: In which
time it
shall be lawful for all sorts of ingenious persons, to visit her
palace, to
court her nymphs, to exercise all variety of generous and noble
pastimes;
as well to intimate how far she treads such malicious imputations
beneath
her, as also to shew how clear her beauties are from the least
wrinkle of
austerity they may be charged with.
MER. But what is all this to Cupid?
CUP. Here do I mean to put off the title of a god, and
take the habit of a
page, in which disguise, during the Interim of these revels, I
will get to
follow some one of Diana's maids, where, if my bow hold, and my
shafts fly
but with half the willingness and aim they are directed, I doubt
not but I
shall really redeem the minutes I have lost, by their so long and
over nice
proscription of my deity from their court.
MER. Pursue it, divine Cupid, it will be rare.
CUP. But will Hermes second me?
MER. I am now to put in act an especial designment from my
father Jove;
but that perform'd, I am for any fresh action that offers itself.
CUP. Well, then we part.
[EXIT.
MER. Farewell good wag,
Now to my charge. — Echo, fair Echo speak,
'Tis Mercury that calls thee; sorrowful nymph,
Salute me with thy repercussive voice,
That I may know what cavern of the earth,
Contains thy airy spirit, how, or where,
I may direct my speech, that thou may'st hear.
ECHO. [BELOW] Here.
MER. So nigh!
ECHO. Ay.
MER. Know, gentle soul, then, I am sent from Jove,
Who, pitying the sad burthen of thy woes,
Still growing on thee, in thy want of words
To vent thy passion for Narcissus' death,
Commands that now, after three thousand years,
Which have been exercised in Juno's spite,
Thou take a corporal figure and ascend,
Enrich'd with vocal, and articulate power.
Make haste sad nymph, thrice shall my winged rod
Strike the obsequious earth, to give thee way.
Arise, and speak thy sorrows, Echo rise,
Here, by this fountain where thy love did pine,
Whose memory lives fresh to vulgar fame,
Shrined in this yellow flower, that bears his name.
ECHO. [ASCENDS] His name revives, and lifts me up from
earth,
O, which way shall I first convert myself,
Or in what mood shall I essay to speak,
That, in a moment, I may be deliver'd
Of the prodigious grief I go withal?
See, see, the mourning fount whose springs weep yet
Th' untimely fate of that too beauteous boy,
That trophy of self-love, and spoil of nature,
Who, now transform'd into this drooping flower,
Hangs the repentant head, back from the stream,
As if it wish'd, "Would I had never look'd
In such a flattering mirror!" O Narcissus,
Thou that wast once, and yet art, my Narcissus,
Had Echo but been private with thy thoughts,
She would have dropt away herself in tears,
Till she had all turn'd water; that in her,
As in a truer glass, thou might'st have gazed
And seen thy beauties by more kind reflection,
But self-love never yet could look on truth
But with blear'd beams; slick flattery and she
Are twin-born sisters, and so mix their eyes,
As if you sever one, the other dies.
Why did the Gods give thee a heavenly form,
And earthly thoughts to make thee proud of it?
Why do I ask? 'Tis now the known disease
That beauty hath, to bear too deep a sense
Of her own self-conceived excellence.
O, hadst thou known the worth of heaven's rich gift,
Thou wouldst have turn'd it to a truer use,
And not with starv'd and covetous ignorance,
Pined in continual eyeing that bright gem,
The glance whereof to others had been more,
Than to thy famish'd mind the wide world's store:
So wretched is it to be merely rich!
Witness thy youth's dear sweets here spent untasted,
Like a fair taper, with his own flame wasted.
MER. Echo be brief, Saturnia is abroad,
And if she hear, she'll storm at Jove's high will.
CUP. I will, kind Mercury, be brief as time.
Vouchsafe me, I may do him these last rites,
But kiss his flower, and sing some mourning strain
Over his wat'ry hearse.
MER. Thou dost obtain;
I were no son to Jove, should I deny thee,
Begin, and more to grace thy cunning voice
The humorous air shall mix her solemn tunes
With thy sad words: strike, music from the spheres,
And with your golden raptures swell our ears.
ECHO. [ACCOMPANIED] Slow, slow fresh fount, keep time with
my salt tears:
Yet slower, yet; O faintly, gentle springs:
List to the heavy part the music bears,
Woe weeps out her division when she sings.
Droop herbs, and flowers,
Fall grief and showers;
Our beauties are not ours;
O, I could still,
Like melting snow upon some craggy hill,
Drop, drop, drop, drop,
Since nature's pride is now a wither'd daffodil. —
MER. Now have you done?
CUP. Done presently, good Hermes: bide a little;
Suffer my thirsty eye to gaze awhile,
But e'en to taste the place, and I am vanish'd.
MER. Forego thy use and liberty of tongue,
And thou mayst dwell on earth, and sport thee there;
ECHO. Here young Acteon fell, pursued, and torn
By Cynthia's wrath, more eager then his hounds;
And here — ah me, the place is fatal! — see
The weeping Niobe, translated hither
>From Phrygian mountains; and by Phoebe rear'd,
As the proud trophy of her sharp revenge.
MER. Nay but hear —
ECHO. But here, O here, the fountain of self-love,
In which, Latona, and her careless nymphs,
Regardless of my sorrows bathe themselves
In hourly pleasures.
MER. Stint thy babbling tongue!
Fond Echo, thou profan'st the grace is done thee.
So idle worldlings merely made of voice,
Censure the powers above them. Come away,
Jove calls thee hence; and his will brooks no stay.
ECHO. O, stay: I have but one poor thought to clothe,
In airy garments, and then, faith, I go.
Henceforth, thou treacherous and murdering spring,
Be ever call'd the Fountain of Self-Love:
And with thy water let this curse remain,
As an inseperate plague, that who but taste
A drop thereof, may, with the instant touch,
Grow dotingly enamour'd on themselves.
Now, Hermes, I have finish'd.
MER. Then thy speech
Must here forsake thee, Echo, and thy voice,
As it was wont, rebound but the last words.
Fare well.
ECHO. [RETIRING.] Well.
MER. Now, Cupid, I am for you, and your mirth,
To make me light before I leave the earth.
ENTER AMORPHUS, HASTILY.
AMO. Dear spark of beauty, make not so fast away:
ECHO. Away.
MER. Stay, let me observe this portent yet.
AMO. I am neither your Minotaur, nor your Centaur, nor
your satyr, nor
your hyaena, nor your babion, but your mere traveller, believe me.
ECHO. Leave me.
MER. I guess'd it should be some travelling motion pursued
Echo so.
AMO. Know you from whom you fly? or whence
ECHO. Hence.
AMO. This is somewhat above strange: A nymph of her
feature and lineament,
to be so preposterously rude! well, I will but cool myself at yon
spring
and follow her.
MER. Nay, then, I am familiar with the issue: I will leave
you too.
EXIT.
AMOR. I am a rhinoceros, if I had thought a creature of
her symmetry would
have dared so improportionable and abrupt a digression. — Liberal
and
divine fount, suffer my profane hand to take of thy bounties.
[TAKES UP
SOME OF THE WATER.] By the purity of my taste, here is most
ambrosiac
water; I will sup of it again. By thy favour, sweet fount. See,
the
water. a more running, subtile, and humorous nymph than she
permits me to
touch, and handle her. What should I infer? If my behaviours had
been of a
cheap or customary garb; my accent or phrase vulgar; my garments
trite; my
countenance illiterate, or unpractised in the encounter of a
beautiful and
brave attired piece; then I might, with some change of colour have
suspected my faculties: but, knowing myself an essence so
sublimated and
refined by travel; of so studied and well exercised a gesture; so
alone in
fashion, able to render the face of any statesman living; and to
speak the
MERe extraction of language, one that hath now made the
sixth return upon
venture; and was your first that ever enrich'd his country with
the true
laws of the duello; whose optics have drunk the spirit of beauty
in some
eight score and eighteen prince's courts, where I have resided,
and been
there fortunate in the amours of three hundred forty and five
ladies, all
nobly, if not princely descended; whose names I have in catalogue:
To
conclude, in all so happy, as even admiration herself doth seem to
fasten
her kisses upon me: — certes, I do neither see, nor feel, nor
taste, nor
savour the least steam or fume of a reason, that should invite this
foolish, fastidious nymph, so peevishly to abandon me. Well, let
the
memory of her fleet into air; my thoughts and I am for this other
element,
water.
ENTER CRITES AND ASOTUS.
CRI. What, the well dieted Amorphus become a
water-drinker! I see he
means not to write verses then.
ASO. No, Crites! why?
CRI. Because —
Nulla placere diu, nec vivere carmina possunt,
Quae scribuntur aquae potoribus.
AMO. What say you to your Helicon?
CRI. O, the Muses' well! that's ever excepted.
AMO. Sir, your Muses have no such water, I assure you;
your nectar, or the
juice of your nepenthe, is nothing to it; 'tis above your
metheglin,
believe it.
ASO. Metheglin! what is that, sir? may I be so audacious
to demand?
AMO. A kind of Greek wine I have met with, sir, in my
travels; it is the
same that Demosthenes usually drunk, in the composure of all his
exquisite
and mellifluous orations.
CRI. That's to be argued, Amorphus, if we may credit
Lucian, who, in his
'Encomio Demosthenis', affirms, he neverdrunk but water in any of
his
compositions.
AMO. Lucian is absurd, he knew nothing: I will believe my
own travels
before all the Lucians of Europe. He doth feed you with fittons,
figments,
and leasings.
CRI. Indeed, I think, next a traveller, he does prettily
well.
AMO. I assure you it was wine, I have tasted it, and from
the hand of an
Italian antiquary, who derives it authentically from the duke of
Ferrara's
bottles. How name you the gentleman you are in rank with there,
sir?
CRI. 'Tis Asotus, son to the late deceased Philargyrus,
the citizen.
AMO. Was his father of any eminent place or means?
CRI. He was to have been praetor next year.
AMO. Ha! a pretty formal young gallant, in good sooth;
pity he is not more
genteelly propagated. Hark you, Crites, you may say to him what I
am, if
you please; though I affect not popularity, yet I would be loth to
stand
out to any, whom you shall vouchsafe to call friend.
CRI. Sir, I fear I may do wrong to your sufficiencies in
the reporting
them, by forgetting or misplacing someone: yourself can best
inform him of
yourself sir; except you had some catalogue or list of your
faculties ready
drawn, which you would request me to show him for you, and him to
take
notice of.
AMO. This Crites is sour: [ASIDE.] I will think, sir.
CRI. Do so, sir. — O heaven! that anything in the
likeness of man should
suffer these rack'd extremities, for the uttering of his
sophisticate good
parts.
[ASIDE.
ASO. Crites, I have a suit to you; but you must not deny
me; pray you make
this gentleman and I friends.
CRI. Friends! why, is there any difference between you?
ASO. No, I mean acquaintance, to know one another.
CRI. O, now I apprehend you; your phrase was without me
before.
ASO. In good faith, he is a most excellent rare man, I
warrant him.
CRI. 'Slight, they are mutually enamour'd by this time.
ASO. Will you, sweet Crites?
CRI. Yes, yes.
ASO. Nay, but when? you'll defer it now, and forget it.
CRI. Why, is it a thing of such present necessity, that it
requires so
violent a dispatch!
ASO. No, but would I might never stir, he's a most
ravishing man! Good
CRItes, you shall endear me to you, in good faith; la!
CRI. Well, your longing shall be satisfied, sir.
ASO. And withal, you may tell him what my father was, and
how well he left
me, and that I am his heir.
CRI. Leave it to me, I'll forget none of your dear graces,
I warrant you.
ASO. Nay, I know you can better marshal these affairs than
I can — O
gods! I'd give all the world, if I had it, for abundance of such
acquaintance.
CRI. What ridiculous circumstance might I devise now, to
bestow this
reciprocal brace of butterflies one upon another?
[ASIDE.
AMO. Since I trod on this side the Alps, I was not so
frozen in my
invention. Let me see: to accost him with some choice remnant of
Spanish,
or Italian! that would indifferently express my languages now:
marry, then,
if he shall fall out to be ignorant, it were both hard, and harsh.
How
else? step into some 'ragioni del state', and so make my
induction! that
were above him too; and out of his element I fear, Feign to have
seen him
in Venice or Padua! or some face near his in similitude! 'tis too
pointed
and open. No, it must be a more quaint and collateral device, as
— stay:
to frame some encomiastic speech upon this our metropolis, or the
wise
magistrates thereof, in which politic number, 'tis odds but his
father
fill'd up a room? descend into a particular admiration of their
justice,
for the due measuring of coals, burning of cans, and such like?
as also
their religion, in pulling down a superstitious cross, and
advancing a
Venus; or Priapus, in place of it? ha! 'twill do well. Or to talk
of some
hospital, whose walls record his father a
benefactor? or of so many buckets bestow'd on his parish church
in his
lifetime, with his name at length, for want of arms, trickt upon
them? any
of these. Or to praise the cleanness of the street wherein he
dwelt? or
the provident painting of his posts against he should have been
praetor?
or, leaving his parent, come to some special ornament about
himself, as his
rapier, or some other of his accountrements? I have it: thanks,
gracious
Minerva!
ASO. Would I had but once spoke to him, and then — He
comes to me!
AMO. 'Tis a most curious and neatly wrought band this
same, as I have
seen, sir.
ASO. O lord, sir.
AMO. You forgive the humour of mine eye, in observing it.
CRI. His eye waters after it, it seems.
[ASIDE.
ASO. O lord, sir! there needs no such apology I assure you.
CRI. I am anticipated; they'll make a solemn deed of gift
of themselves,
you shall see.
AMO. Your riband too does most gracefully in troth.
ASO. 'Tis the most genteel and received wear now, sir.
AMO. Believe me, sir, I speak it not to humour you — I
have not seen a
young gentleman, generally, put on his clothes with more judgment.
ASO. O, 'tis your pleasure to say so, sir.
AMO. No, as I am virtuous, being altogether untravelled,
it strikes me
into wonder.
ASO. I do purpose to travel, sir, at spring.
AMO. I think I shall affect you, sir. This last speech of
yours hath
begun to make you dear to me.
ASO. O lord, sir! I would there were anything in me, sir,
that might
appear worthy the least worthiness of your worth, sir. I protest,
sir. I
should endeavour to shew it, sir, with more than common regard sir.
CRI. O, here's rare motley, sir.
[ASIDE.
AMO. Both your desert, and your endeavours are plentiful,
suspect them
not: but your sweet disposition to travel, I assure you, hath made
you
another myself in mine eye, and struck me enamour'd on your
beauties.
ASO. I would I were the fairest lady of France for your
sake, sir! and yet
I would travel too.
AMO. O, you should digress from yourself else: for,
believe it, your
travel is your only thing that rectifies, or, as the Italian says,
'vi
rendi pronto all' attioni', makes you fit for action.
ASO. I think it be great charge though, sir.
AMO. Charge! why 'tis nothing for a gentleman that goes
private, as
yourself, or so; my Intelligence shall quit my charge at all time,
Good
faith, this hat hath possest mine eye exceedingly; 'tis so pretty
and
fantastic: what! is it a beaver?
ASO. Ay, sir, I'll assure you 'tis a beaver, it cost me
eight crowns but
this morning.
AMO. After your French account?
ASO. Yes, sir.
CRI. And so near his head! beshrew me, dangerous.
[ASIDE.
AMO. A very pretty fashion, believe me, and a most novel
kind of trim:
your band is conceited too!
ASO. Sir, it is all at your service.
AMO. O, pardon me.
ASO. I beseech you, sir, if you please to wear it, you
shall do me a most
infinite grace.
CRI. 'Slight, will he be prais'd out of his clothes?
ASO. By heaven, sir, I do not offer it you after the
Italian manner; I
would you should conceive so of me.
AMO. Sir, I shall fear to appear rude in denying your
courtesies,
especially being invited by so proper a distinction: May I pray
your name,
sir?
ASO. My name is Asotus, sir.
AMO. I take your love, gentle Asotus, but let me win you
to receive this,
in exchange. —
[THEY EXCHANGE BEAVERS.
CRI. Heart! they'll change doublets anon.
[ASIDE.
AMO. And, from this time, esteem yourself in the first
rank of those few
whom I profess to love. What make you in company of this scholar
here? I
will bring you known to gallants, as Anaides of the ordinary,
Hedon the
courtier, and others, whose society shall render you graced, and
respected:
this is a trivial fellow, too mean, too cheap, too coarse for you
to
converse with.
ASO. 'Slid, this is not worth a crown, and mine cost me
eight but this
morning.
CRI. I looked when he would repent him, he has begun to be
sad a good while.
AMO. Sir, shall I say to you for that hat? Be not so sad,
be not so sad:
It is a relic I could not so easily have departed with, but as the
hieroglyphic of my affection; you shall alter it to what form you
please,
it will take any block; I have received it varied on record to the
three
thousandth time, and not so few: It hath these virtues beside:
your head
shall not ache under it, nor your brain leave you, without
license; It will
preserve your complexion to eternity; for no beam of the sun,
should you
wear it under 'zona torrida', hath power to approach it by two
ells. It is
proof against thunder, and enchantment; and was given me by a
great man in
Russia, as an especial prized present; and constantly affirm'd to
be the
hat that accompanied the politic Ulysses in his tedious, and ten
years'
travels.
ASO. By Jove, I will not depart withal, whosoever would
give me a million.
ENTER COS AND PROSAITES.
COS. Save you sweet bloods! does any of you want a
creature, or a dependent?
CRI. Beshrew me, a fine blunt slave!
AMO. A page of good timber! it will now be my grace to
entertain him
first, though I cashier him again in private. — How art thou
call'd?
COS. Cos, sir, Cos.
CRI. Cos! how happily hath fortune furnish'd him with a
whetstone?
AMO. I do entertain you, Cos; conceal your quality till we
be private; if
your parts be worthy of me, I will countenance you; if not,
catechise you.
— Gentles, shall we go?
ASO. Stay, sir: I'll but entertain this other fellow, and
then — I have
a great humour to taste of this water too, but I'll come again
alone for
that — mark the place. — What's your name, youth?
PROS. Prosaites, sir.
ASO. Prosaites! a very fine name; Crites, is it not?
CRI. Yes, and a very ancient one, sir, the Beggar.
ASO. Follow me, good Prosaites; let's talk.
[EXEUNT ALL BUT CRITES.
CRI. He will rank even with you, ere't be long.
If you hold on your course. O, vanity
How are thy painted beauties doted on,
By light and empty idiots! how pursued
With open, and extended appetite!
How they do sweat, and run themselves from breath,
Raised on their toes, to catch thy airy forms,
Still turning giddy, till they reel like drunkards,
That buy the merry madness of one hour
With the long irksomeness of following time!
O, how despised and base a thing is man,
If he not strive to erect his grovelling thoughts
Above the strain of flesh? But how more cheap,
When, ev'n his best and understanding part,
The crown, and strength of all his faculties,
Floats like a dead drown'd body, on the stream
Of vulgar humour, mixt with common'st dregs!
I suffer for their guilt now, and my soul,
Like one that looks on ill-affected eyes,
Is hurt with mere Intention on their follies.
Why will I view them then, my sense might ask me?
Or is't a rarity, or some new object,
That strains my strict observance to this point?
O, would it were! therein I could afford
My spirit should draw a little near to theirs,
To gaze on novelties; so vice were one.
Tut, she is stale, rank, foul; and were it not
That those that woo her greet her with lock'd eyes,
In spight of all th' Impostures, paintings, drugs,
Which her bawd, Custom, dawbs her cheeks withal,
She would betray her loath'd and leprous face,
And fright the enamour'd dotards from themselves:
But such is the perverseness of our nature,
That if we once but fancy levity,
How antic and ridiculous soe'er
It suit with us, yet will our muffled thought
Choose rather not to see it, then avoid it:
And if we can but banish our own sense,
We act our mimic tricks with that free license,
That lust, that pleasure, that security;
As if we practised in a paste-board case,
And no one saw the motion, but the motion.
Well, check thy passion, least it grow too loud:
While fools are pitied, they wax fat, and proud.
———————————————————————
SCENE I. — THE COURT.
ENTER CUPID AND MERCURY, DISGUISED AS PAGES.
CUP. Why, this was most unexpectedly followed, my divine
delicate Mercury,
by the beard of Jove, thou art a precious deity.
MER. Nay, Cupid, leave to speak improperly; since we are
turn'd cracks,
let's study to be like cracks; practise their language, and
behaviours, and
not with a dead imitation: Act freely, carelessly, and
capriciously, as if
our veins ran with quicksilver, and not utter a phrase, but what
shall come
forth steep'd in the very brine of conceit, and sparkle like salt
in fire.
CUP. That is not every one's happiness, Hermes: Though
you can presume
upon the easiness and dexterity of your wit, you shall give me
leave to be
a little jealous of mine; and not desperately to hazard it after
your
capering humour.
MER. Nay, then, Cupid, I think we must have you
hood-wink'd again; for you
are grown too provident, since your eyes were at liberty.
CUP. Not so, Mercury, I am still blind Cupid to thee.
MER. And what to the lady nymph you serve?
CUP. Troth, page, boy, and sirrah: these are all my titles.
MER. Then thou hast not altered thy name with thy disguise?
CUP. O, no, that had been supererogation; you shall never
hear your
courtier call but by one of these three.
MER. Faith, then both our fortunes are the same.
CUP. Why, what parcel of man hast thou lighted on for a
master?
MER. Such a one, as before I begin to decipher him, I dare
not affirm to
be any thing less than a courtier. So much he is during this open
time of
revels, and would be longer, but that his means are to leave him
shortly
after. His name is Hedon, a gallant wholly consecrated to his
pleasures.
CUP. Hedon! he uses much to my lady's chamber, I think.
MER. How is she call'd, and then I can shew thee?
CUP. Madame Philautia.
MER. O ay, he affects her very particularly indeed. These
are his graces.
He doth (besides me) keep a barber and a monkey; he has a rich
wrought
waistcoat to entertain his visitants in, with a cap almost
suitable. His
curtains and bedding are thought to be his own; his bathing-tub is
not
suspected. He loves to have a fencer, a pedant, and a musician
seen in his
lodging a-mornings.
CUP. And not a poet?
MER. Fie no: himself is a rhymer, and that's a thought
better than a poet.
He is not lightly within to his mercer, no, though he come when he
takes
physic, which is commonly after his play. He beats a tailor very
well, but
a stocking-seller admirably: and so consequently any one he owes
money to,
that dares not resist him. He never makes general invitement, but
against
the publishing of a new suit; marry, then you shall have more
drawn to his
lodging, then come to the launching of some three ships;
especially if he
be furnish'd with supplies for the retiring of his old wardrobe
from pawn:
if not, he does hire a stock of apparel, and some forty or fifty
pound in
gold for that forenoon to shew. He is thought a very necessary
perfume for
the presence, and for that only cause welcome thither: six
milliners' shops
afford you not the like scent. He courts ladies with how many
great horse
he hath rid that morning, or how oft he has done the whole, or
half the
pommado in a seven-night before: and sometime ventures so far upon
the
virtue of his pomander, that he dares tell 'em, how many shirts he
has
sweat at tennis that week; but wisely conceals so many dozen of
balls he is
on the score. Here he comes, that is all this.
ENTER HEDON, ANAIDES, AND GELAIA.
HED. Boy!
MER. Sir.
HED. Are any of the ladies in the presence?
MER. None yet, sir.
HED. Give me some gold, — more.
ANA. Is that thy boy, Hedon?
HED. Ay, what think'st thou of him?
ANA. I'd geld him; I warrant he has the philosopher's
stone.
HED. Well said, my good melancholy devil: sirrah, I have
devised one or
two of the prettiest oaths, this morning in my bed, as ever thou
heard'st,
to protest withal in the presence.
ANA. Prithee, let's hear them.
HED. Soft, thou'lt use them afore me.
ANA. No, d—mn me then — I have more oaths than I know
how to utter, by
this air.
HED. Faith, one is, "By the tip of your ear, sweet lady."
Is it not
pretty, and genteel?
ANA. Yes, for the person 'tis applied to, a lady. It
should be light, and —
HED. Nay, the other is better, exceeds it much: the
Invention is farther
fet too. "By the white valley that lies between the alpine hills
of your
bosom, I protest. —
ANA. Well, you travell'd for that, Hedon.
MER. Ay, in a map, where his eyes were but blind guides to
his
understanding, it seems.
HED. And then I have a salutation will nick all, by this
caper: hay!
ANA. How is that?
HED. You know I call Madam Philautia, my Honour; and she
calls me her
Ambition. Now, when I meet her in the presence anon, I will come
to her,
and say, "Sweet Honour, I have hitherto contented my sense with
the lilies
of your hand; but now I will taste the roses
of your lip"; and, withal kiss her: to which she cannot but
blushing
answer, "Nay now you are too ambitious". And then do I reply: "I
cannot be
too Ambitious of Honour, sweet lady. Will't not be good? ha? ha?
ANA. O, assure your soul.
HED. By heaven, I think 'twill be excellent, and a very
politic
achievement of a kiss.
ANA. I have thought upon one for Moria of a sudden too, if
it take.
HED. What is't, my dear Invention?
ANA. Marry, I will come to her, (and she always wears a
muff, if you be
remembered,) and I will tell her, "Madam your whole self cannot
but be
perfectly wise; for your hands have wit enough to keep themselves
warm."
HED. Now, before Jove, admirable! [GELAIA LAUGHS.] Look,
thy page takes
it too. By Phoebus, my sweet facetious rascal, I could eat
water-gruel
with thee a month, for this jest, my dear rogue.
ANA. O, Hercules 'tis your only dish; above all your
potatoes, or
oyster-pies in the world.
HED. I have ruminated upon a most rare wish too, and the
prophecy to it;
but I'll have some friend to be the prophet; as thus: I do wish
myself one
of my mistress's cioppini. Another demands, Why would he be one
of his
mistress's cioppini? a third answers, Because he would make her
higher: a
fourth shall say, That will make her proud: And a fifth shall
conclude,
Then do I prophesy, pride will have a fall; — and he shall give
it her.
ANA. I will be your prophet. Gods so, it will be most
exquisite; thou art
a fine inventious rogue, sirrah.
HED. Nay, and I have posies for rings, too, and riddles,
that they dream
not of.
ANA. Tut, they'll do that, when they come to sleep on
them, time enough:
But were thy devices never in the presence yet, Hedon?
HED. O, no, I disdain that.
ANA. 'Twere good we went afore then, and brought them
acquainted with the
room where they shall act, least the strangeness of it put them
out of
countenance, when they should come forth.
[EXEUNT HEDON AND ANAIDES.
CUP. Is that a courtier, too.
MER. Troth, no; he has two essential parts of the
courtier, pride and
ignorance; marry, the rest come somewhat after the ordinary
gallant. 'Tis
Impudence itself, Anaides; one that speaks all that comes in his
cheeks,
and will blush no more than a sackbut. He lightly occupies the
jester's
room at the table, and keeps laughter, Gelaia, a wench in page's
attire,
following him in place of a squire, whom he now and then tickles
with some
strange ridiculous stuff, utter'd as his land came to him by
chance. He
will censure or discourse of any thing, but as absurdly as you
would wish.
His fashion is not to take knowledge of him that is beneath him in
clothes.
He never drinks below the salt. He does naturally admire his wit
that
wears gold lace, or tissue: stabs any man that speaks more
contemptibly of
the scholar then he. He is a great proficient in all the illiberal
sciences, as cheating, drinking, swaggering, whoring, and such
like: never
kneels but to pledgehealths, nor prays, but for a pipe of pudding
tobacco.
He will blaspheme in his shirt. The oaths which he vomits at one
supper
would maintain a town of garrison in good swearing a twelvemonth.
One
other genuine quality he has which crowns all these, and that is
this: to
a friend in want, he will not depart with the weight of a soldered
groat,
lest the world might censure him prodigal, or report him a gull:
marry, to
his cockatrice or punquetto, half a dozen taffata gowns or satin
kirtles in
a pair or two of months, why, they are nothing.
CUP. I commend him, he is one of my clients.
[THEY RETIRE TO THE BACK OF THE STAGE.
ENTER AMORPHUS, ASOTUS, AND COS.
AMO. Come, sir. You are now within regard of the
presence, and see, the
privacy of this room how sweetly it offers itself to our retired
intendments. — Page, cast a vigilant and enquiring eye about,
that we be
not rudely surprised, by the approach of some ruder stranger.
COS. I warrant you, sir. I'll tell you when the wolf
enters, fear
nothing.
MER. O what a mass of benefit shall we possess, in being
the invisible
spectators of this strange show now to be acted!
AMO. Plant yourself there, sir; and observe me. You shall
now, as well be
the ocular, as the ear-witness, how clearly I can refel that
paradox, or
rather pseuodox, I assure you, is not so, in any politic creature:
for
instance; I will now give you the particular and distinct face of
every
your most noted species of persons, as your merchant, your
scholar, your
soldier, your lawyer, courtier, etc., and each of these so truly,
as you
would swear, but that your eye shall see the variation of the
lineament, it
were my most proper and genuine aspect. First, for your merchant,
or
city-face, 'tis thus; a dull, plodding-face, still looking in a
direct
line, forward: there is no great matter in this face. Then have
you your
student's, or academic face; which is here an honest, simple, and
methodical face; but somewhat more spread then the former. The
third is
your soldiers face, a menacing, and astounding face, that looks
broad, and
big: the grace of his face consisteth much in a beard. The
anti-face to
this, is your lawyer's face, a contracted, subtile, and Intricate
face,
full of quirks, and turnings, a labyrinthean face, now angularly,
now
circularly, every way aspected. Next is your statist's face, a
serious,
solemn, and supercilious face, full of formal, and square gravity;
the eye,
for the most part, deeply and artificially shadow'd; there is great
judgment required in the making of this face. But now, to come to
your
face of faces, or courtier's face; 'tis of three sorts, according
to our
subdivision of a courtier, elementary, practic, and theoric. Your
courtier
theoric, is he that hath arrived to his farthest, and doth now
know the
court rather by speculation than practise; and this is his face: a
fastidious and oblique face; that looks as it went with a vice,
and were
screw'd thus. Your courtier practic is he that is yet in his
path, his
course, his way, and hath not touch'd the punctilio or point of
his hopes;
his face is here: a most promising, open, smooth, and overflowing
face,
that seems as it would run and pour itself into you: somewhat a
northerly
face. Your courtier elementary, is one but newly enter'd, or as
it were in
the alphabet, or 'ut-re-mi-fa-sol-la' of courtship. Note well
this face,
for it is this you must practise.
ASO. I'll practise them all, if you please, sir.
AMO. Ay, hereafter you may: and it will not be altogether
an ungrateful
study. For, let your soul be assured of this, in any rank or
profession
whatever, the most general, or major part of opinion goes with the
face and
simply respects nothing else. Therefore, if that can be made
exactly,
curiously,
exquisitely, thoroughly, it is enough: but for the present you
shall only
apply yourself to this face of the elementary courtier, a light,
revelling,
and protesting face, now blushing, now smiling, which you may help
much
with a wanton wagging of your head, thus, (a feather will teach
you,) or
with kissing your finger that hath the ruby, or playing with some
string of
your band, which is a most quaint kind of melancholy besides: or,
if among
ladies, laughing loud, and crying up your own wit, though perhaps
borrow'd,
it is not amiss. Where is your page? call for your
casting-bottle, and
place your mirror in your hat, as I told you; so! Come, look not
pale,
observe me, set your face, and enter.
MER. O, for some excellent painter, to have taken the copy
of all these
faces!
ASO. Prosaites!
AMO. Fie! I premonish you of that: In the court, boy,
lacquey, or sirrah.
COS. Master 'lupus in' — O, 'tis Prosaites.
ENTER PROSAITES.
ASO. Sirrah, prepare me my casting-bottle; I think I must
be enforced to
purchase me another page; you see how at hand Cos waits here.
EXEUNT AMORPHUS, ASOTUS, COS, AND PROSAITES.
MER. So will he too in time.
CUP. What's he Mercury?
MER. A notable smelt. One that hath newly entertain'd the
beggar to
follow him, but cannot get him to wait near enough. 'Tis Asotus,
the heir
of Philargyrus; but first I'll give ye the other's character,
which may
make his the clearer. He that is with him is Amorphus, a
traveller, one so
made out of the mixture and shreds of forms, that himself is truly
deform'd. He walks most commonly with a clove or pick-tooth in
his mouth,
he is the very mint of compliment, all his behaviours are printed,
his face
is another volume of essays, and his beard is an Aristarchus. He
speaks
all cream skimm'd, and more affected than a dozen of waiting
women. He is
his own promoter in every place. The wife of the ordinary gives
him his
diet to maintain her table in discourse; which, indeed, is a mere
tyranny
over her other guests, for he will usurp all the talk: ten
constables are
not so tedious. He is no great shifter; once a year his apparel
is ready
to revolt. He doth use much to arbitrate quarrels, and fights
himself,
exceeding well, out at a window. He will lie cheaper than any
beggar, and
louder then most clocks; for which he is right properly
accommodated to the
Whetstone, his page. The other gallant is his zany, and doth most
of these
tricks after him; sweats to imitate him in every thing to a hair,
except a
beard, which is not yet extant. He doth learn to make strange
sauces, to
eat anchovies, maccaroni, bovoli, fagioli, and caviare, because he
loves
them; speaks as he speaks, looks, walks, goes so in clothes and
fashion: is
in all as if he were moulded of him.
Marry, before they met, he had other very pretty sufficiencies,
which yet
he retains some light impression of; as frequenting a dancing
school, and
grievously torturing strangers with inquisition after his grace in
his
galliard. He buys a fresh acquaintance at any rate. His eyes and
his
raiment confer much together as he goes in the street. He treads
nicely
like the fellow that walks upon ropes, especially the first Sunday
of his
silk stockings; and when he is most neat and new, you shall strip
him with
commendations.
CUP. Here comes another.
CRITES PASSES OVER THE STAGE.
MER. Ay, but one of another strain, Cupid; This fellow
weighs somewhat.
CUP. His name Hermes?
MER. Crites. A creature of a most perfect and divine
temper: one, in whom
the humours and elements are peaceably met, without emulation of
precedency; he is neither too fantastically melancholy, too slowly
phlegmatic, too lightly sanguine, or too rashly choleric; but in
all so
composed and ordered; as it is clear Nature went about some full
work, she
did more than make a man when she made him. His discourse is like
his
behaviour, uncommon, but not unpleasing; he is prodigal of
neither. He
strives rather to be that which men call) judicious, than to be
thought so;
and is so truly learned, that he affects not to shew it. He will
think,
and speak his thought both freely; but as distant from depraving
any other
man's merit, as proclaiming his own. For his valour, 'tis such,
that he
dares as little to offer any injury, as receive one. In sum, he
hath a
most ingenious and sweet spirit, a sharp and season'd wit, a
straight judgement and a strong mind. Fortune could never break him,
or make him less. he c
ounts it his pleasure to despise pleasures, and is more delighted
with good
deeds than goods. It is a competency to him that he can be
virtuous. He
doth neither covet nor fear; he hath too much reason to do either;
and that
commends all things to him.
CUP. No better then Mercury commends him.
MER. O, Cupid, 'tis beyond my deity to give him his due
praises: I could
leave my place in heaven, to live among mortals, so I were sure to
be no
other than he.
CUP. 'Slight, I believe he is your minion, you seem to be
so ravish'd with
him.
MER. He's one, I would not have a wry thought darted
against, willingly.
CUP. No, but a straight shaft in his bosom I'll promise
him, if I am
Cytherea's son.
MER. Shall we go, Cupid?
CUP. Stay, and see the ladies now: they'll come presently.
I'll help to
paint them.
MER. What lay colour upon colour! that affords but an ill
blazon.
CUP. Here come metal to help it, the lady Argurion.
[ARGURION PASSES OVER THE STAGE.
MER. Money, money.
CUP. The Same, A nymph of a most wandering and giddy
disposition,
humorous as the air, she'll run from gallant to gallant, as they
sit at
primero in the presence, most strangely, and seldom stays with
any. She
spreads as she goes. To-day you shall have her look as clear and
fresh as
the morning, and to-morrow as melancholic as midnight. She takes
special
pleasure in a close obscure lodging, and for that cause visits the
city so
often, where she has many secret true concealing favourites. When
she
comes abroad she's more loose and scattering than dust, and will
fly from
place to place, as she were wrapped with a whirlwind. Your young
student,
for the most part, she affects not, only salutes him, and away: a
poet, nor
a philosopher, she is hardly brought to take any notice of; no,
though he
be some part of an alchemist. She loves a player well, and a
lawyer
infinitely; but your fool above all. She can do much in the court
for the
obtaining of any suit whatsoever, no door but flies open to her,
her
presence is above a charm. The worst in her is want of keeping
state, and
too much descending into inferior and base offices; she's for any
coarse
employment you will put upon her, as to be your procurer, or
pander.
MER. Peace, Cupid, here comes more work for you, another
character or two.
ENTER PHANTASTE, MORIA, AND PHILAUTIA.
PHA. Stay sweet Philautia; I'll but change my fan, and go
presently.
MOR. Now, in very good serious, ladies, I will have this
order revers'd,
the presence must be better maintain'd from you: a quarter past
eleven, and
ne'er a nymph in prospective! Beshrew my hand, there must be a
reform'd
discipline. Is that your new ruff, sweet lady-bird? By my troth,
'tis
most intricately rare.
MER. Good Jove, what reverend gentlewoman in years might
this be?
CUP. 'Tis madam Moria, guardian of the nymphs; one that is
not now to be
persuaded of her wit; she will think herself wise against all the
judgments
that come. A lady made all of voice and air, talks any thing of
any thing.
She is like one of your ignorant poetasters of the time, who, when
they
have got acquainted with a strange word, never rest till they have
wrung it
in, though it loosen the whole fabric of their sense.
MER. That was pretty and sharply noted, Cupid.
CUP. She will tell you, Philosophy was a fine reveller,
when she was
young, and a gallant, and that then, though she say it, she was
thought to
be the dame Dido and Helen of the court: as also, what a sweet
dog she had
this time four years, and how it was called Fortune; and that, if
the Fates
had not cut his thread, he had been a dog to have given
entertainment to
any gallant in this kingdom; and unless she had whelp'd it
herself, she
could not have loved a thing better in this world.
MER. O, I prithee no more; I am full of her.
CUP. Yes, I must needs tell you she composes a sack-posset
well; and would
court a young page sweetly, but that her breath is against it.
MER. Now, her breath or something more strong protect me
from her! the
other, the other, Cupid.
CUP. O, that's my lady and mistress madam Philautia. She
admires not
herself for any one particularity, but for all: she is fair, and
she knows
it; she has a pretty light wit too, and she knows it; she can
dance, and
she knows that too; play at shuttle-cock, and that too: no
quality she
has, but she shall take a very particular knowledge of, and most
lady-like
commend it to you. You shall have her at any time read you the
history of
herself, and very subtilely run over another lady's sufficiencies
to come
to her own. She has a good superficial judgement in painting; and
would
seem to have so in poetry. A most complete lady in the opinion of
some
three beside herself.
PHI. Faith, how liked you my quip to Hedon, about the
garter? Was't not
witty?
MOR. Exceeding witty and Integrate: you did so aggravate
the jest withal.
PHI. And did I not dance movingly last night?
MOR. Movingly! out of measure, in troth, sweet charge.
MER. A happy commendation, to dance out of measure.
MOR. Save only you wanted the swim in the turn: O! when I
was at fourteen —
PHI. Nay, that's mine own from any nymph in the court I'm
sure on't;
therefore you mistake me in that guardian: both the swim and the
trip are
properly mine; every body will affirm it that has any judgement in
dancing,
I assure you.
PHA. Come now, Philautia I am for you; shall we go?
PHI. Ay, good Phantaste: What! have you changed your
head-tire?
PHA. Yes, faith; the other was so near the common, it had
no extraordinary
grace; besides, I had worn it almost a day, in good troth.
PHI. I'll be sworn, this is most excellent for the device,
and rare; 'tis
after the Italian print we look'd on t'other night.
PHA. 'Tis so: by this fan, I cannot abide anything that
savours the poor
over-worn cut, that has any kindred with it; I must have variety,
I: this
mixing in fashion, I hate it worse than to burn juniper in my
chamber, I
protest.
PHI. And yet we cannot have a new peculiar court-tire, but
these retainers
will have it; these suburb Sunday-waiters; these courtiers for
high days; I
know not what I should call 'em. —
PHA. O, ay, they do most pitifully imitate; but I have a
tire a coming,
i'faith, shall —
MOR. In good certain, madam, it makes you look most
heavenly; but, lay
your hand on your heart, you never skinn'd a new beauty more
prosperously
in your life, nor more metaphysically: look good lady, sweet lady,
look.
PHI. 'Tis very clear and well, believe me. But if you had
seen mine
yesterday, when 'twas young, you would have — Who's your doctor
Phantaste?
PHA. Nay, that's counsel Philautia; you shall pardon me:
yet I'll assure
you he is the most dainty, sweet, absolute rare man of the whole
college.
O! his very looks, his discourse, his behaviour, all he does is
physic, I
protest.
PHI. For heaven's sake, his name, good dear Phantaste?
PHA. No, no, no, no, no, no, believe me, not for a million
of heavens: I
will not make him cheap. Fie —
EXEUNT PHANTASTE, MORIA, AND PHILAUTIA.
CUP. There is a nymph too of a most curious and elaborate
strain, light,
all motion, an ubiquitary, she is every where, Phantaste —
MER. Her very name speaks her, let her pass. But are
these, Cupid, the
stars of Cynthia's court? Do these nymphs attend upon Diana?
CUP. They are in her court, Mercury, but not as stars;
these never come in
the presence of Cynthia. The nymphs that make her train are the
divine
Arete, Time, Phronesis, Thauma, and others of that high sort.
These are
privately brought in by Moria in this licentious time, against her
knowledge; and, like so many meteors, will vanish when she appears.
ENTER PROSAITES SINGING, FOLLOWED BY GELAIA AND COS, WITH
BOTTLES.
Come follow me, my wags, and say, as I say,
There's no riches but in rags, hey day, hey day:
You that profess this art, come away, come away,
And help to bear a part. Hey day, hey day, etc.
[MERCURY AND CUPID COME FORWARD.
MER. What, those that were our fellow pages but now, so
soon preferr'd to
be yeomen of the bottles! The mystery, the mystery, good wags?
CUP. Some diet-drink, they have the guard of.
PRO. No, sir, we are going in quest of a strange fountain, lately
found out.
CUP. By whom?
COS. My master or the great discoverer, Amorphus.
MER. Thou hast well entitled him, Cos, for he will
discover all he knows.
GEL. Ay, and a little more too, when the spirit is upon
him.
PRO. O, the good travelling gentleman yonder, has caused such a
drought in
the presence, with reporting the wonders of this new water, that
all the
ladies and gallants lie languishing upon the rushes, like so many
pounded
cattle in the midst of harvest, sighing one to another, and
gasping, as if
each of them expected a cock from the fountain, to be brought into
his
mouth; and without we return quickly, they are all, as a youth
would say,
no better then a few trouts cast ashore, or a dish of eels in a
sand-bag.
MER. Well then, you were best dispatch and have a care of
them. Come
Cupid, thou and I'll go peruse this dry wonder.
[EXEUNT.
———————————————————————
SCENE I. — AN APARTMENT AT THE COURT.
ENTER AMORPHUS AND ASOTUS.
AMO. Sir, let not this discountenance or disgallant you a
whit; you must
not sink under the first disaster. It is with your young
grammatical
courtier, as with your neophyte player, a thing usual to be
daunted at the
first presence or interview: you saw, there was Hedon, and
Anaides, far
MORe practised gallants than yourself, who were both out,
to comfort you.
It is no disgrace, no more than for your adventurous reveller to
fall by
some inauspicious chance in his galliard, or for some subtile
politic to
undertake the bastinado, that the state might think worthily of
him, and
respect him as a man well beaten to the world. What? hath your
tailor
provided the property we spake of at your chamber, or no?
ASO. I think he has.
AMO. Nay, I entreat you, be not so flat, and melancholic.
Erect your
mind: you shall redeem this with the courtship I will teach you
against the
afternoon. Where eat you to-day?
ASO. Where you please, sir; any where, I.
AMO. Come, let us go and taste some light dinner, a dish
of sliced caviar,
or so; and after, you shall practise an hour at your lodging some
few forms
that I have recall'd. If you had but so far gathered your spirits
to you,
as to have taken up a rush when you were out, and wagg'd it thus,
or
cleansed your teeth with it; or but turn'd aside, and feign'd some
business
to whisper with your page, till you had recovered yourself, or but
found
some slight stain in your stocking, or any other pretty Invention,
so it
had been sudden, you might have come off with a most clear and
courtly
grace.
ASO. A poison of all! I think I was forespoke, I.
AMO. No, I must tell you, you are not audacious enough;
you must frequent
ordinaries a month more, to initiate yourself: in which time, it
will not
be amiss, if, in private, you keep good your acquaintance with
Crites, or
some other of his poor coat; visit his lodging secretly and often;
become
an earnest suitor to hear some of his labours.
ASO. O Jove! sir, I could never get him to read a line to
me.
AMO. You must then wisely mix yourself in rank with such
as you know can;
and, as your ears do meet with a new phrase, or an acute jest,
take it in:
a quick nimble memory will lift it away, and, at your next public
meal, it
is your own.
ASO. But I shall never utter it perfectly, sir.
AMO. No matter, let it come lame. In ordinary talk you
shall play it
away, as you do your light crowns at primero: it will pass.
ASO. I shall attempt, sir.
AMO. Do. It is your shifting age for wit, and, I assure
you, men must be
prudent. After this you may to court, and there fall in, first
with the
waiting-woman, then with the lady. Put case they do retain you
there, as a
fit property, to hire coaches some pair of months, or so; or to
read them
asleep in afternoons upon some pretty pamphlet, to breathe you;
why, it
shall in time embolden you to some farther achievement: in the
interim,
you may fashion yourself to be careless and impudent.
ASO. How if they would have me to make verses? I heard
Hedon spoke to for
some.
AMO. Why, you must prove the aptitude of your genius; if
you find none,
you must hearken out a vein, and buy; provided you pay for the
silence as
for the work, then you may securely call it your own.
ASO. Yes, and I'll give out my acquaintance with all the
best writers, to
countenance me the more.
AMO. Rather seem not to know them, it is your best. Ay,
be wise, that you
never so much as mention the name of one, nor remember it
mentioned; but if
they be offer'd to you in discourse, shake your light head, make
between a
sad and a smiling face, pity some, rail at all, and commend
yourself: 'tis
your only safe and unsuspected course. Come, you shall look back
upon the
court again to-day, and be restored to your colours: I do partly
aim at
the cause of your repulse — which was ominous indeed — for as
you enter
at the door, there is opposed to you the frame of a wolf in the
hangings,
which, surprising your eye suddenly, gave a false alarm to the
heart; and
that was it called your blood out of your face, and so routed the
whole
rank of your spirits: I beseech you labour to forget it. And
remember, as
I inculcated to you before, for your comfort, Hedon and Anaides.
[EXEUNT.
SCENE II. — ANOTHER APARTMENT IN THE SAME.
ENTER HEDON AND ANAIDES.
HEDON. Heart, was there ever so prosperous an Invention
thus unluckily
perverted and spoiled, by a whoreson book-worm, a candle-waster?
ANA. Nay, be not impatient, Hedon.
HED. 'Slight, I would fain know his name.
ANA. Hang him, poor grogan rascal, prithee think not of
him: I'll send for
him to my lodging, and have him blanketed when thou wilt, man.
HED. Ods so, I would thou couldst. Look, here he comes.
ENTER CRITES, AND WALKS IN A MUSING POSTURE AT THE BACK OF THE
STAGE.
Laugh at him, laugh at him; ha, ha, ha.
ANA. Fough! he smells all lamp-oil with studying by
candle-light.
HED. How confidently he went by us, and carelessly! Never
moved, nor
stirred at any thing! Did you observe him?
ANA. Ay, a pox on him, let him go, dormouse: he is in a
dream now. He
has no other time to sleep, but thus when he walks abroad, to take
the air.
HED. 'Sprecious, this afflicts me more than all the rest,
that we should
so particularly direct our hate, and contempt against him, and he
to carry
it thus without wound or passion! 'tis insufferable.
ANA. 'Slid, my dear Envy, if, thou but say'st the word
now, I'll undo him
eternally for thee.
HED. How, sweet Anaides?
ANA. Marry, half a score of us get him in, one night, and
make him pawn
his wit for a supper.
HED. Away, thou hast such unseasonable jests! By this
heaven, I wonder at
nothing more than our gentlemen ushers, that will suffer a piece
of serge
or perpetuana to come into the presence: methinks they, should,
out of
their experience, better distinguish the silken disposition of
courtiers,
than to let such terrible coarse rags mix with us, able to fret
any smooth
or gentle society to the threads, with their rubbing devices.
ANA. Unless 'twere Lent, Ember-weeks, or fasting days,
when the place is
most penuriously empty of all other good outsides. D—n me, if I
should
adventure on his company once more, without a suit of buff to
defend my
wit! he does nothing but stab, the slave! How mischievously he
cross'd
thy device of the prophecy, there? and Moria, she comes without
her muff
too, and there my invention was lost.
HED. Well, I am resolved, what I'll do.
ANA. What, my good spiritous spark?
HED. Marry, speak all the venom I can of him; and poison
his reputation in
every place where I come.
ANA. 'Fore God, most courtly.
HED. And if I chance to be present where any question is
made of his
sufficiencies, or of any thing he hath done private or public,
I'll censure
it slightly, and ridiculously
ANA. At any hand beware of that; so thou may'st draw thine
own judgement
in suspect. No, I'll instruct thee what thou shalt do, and by a
safer
means: approve any thing thou hearest of his, to the received
opinion of
it; but if it be extraordinary, give it from him to some other
whom thou
MORe particularly affect'st; that's the way to plague him,
and he shall
never come to defend himself. 'Slud, I'll give out all he does is
dictated
from other men, and swear it too, if thou'lt have me, and that I
know the
time and place where he stole it, though my soul be guilty of no
such
thing; and that I think out of my heart, he hates such barren
shifts: yet
to do thee a pleasure and him a disgrace, I'll damn myself, or do
any thing.
HED. Gramercy, my dear devil; we'll put it seriously in
practice, i'faith.
EXEUNT HEDON AND ANAIDES.
CRI. [COMING FORWARD.] Do, good Detraction, do, and I the
while
Shall shake thy spight off with a careless smile.
Poor piteous gallants! what lean idle slights
Their thoughts suggest to flatter their starv'd hopes!
As if I knew not how to entertain
These straw-devices; but, of force must yield
To the weak stroke of their calumnious tongues.
What should I care what every dor doth buz
In credulous ears? It is a crown to me
That the best judgements can report me wrong'd;
Them liars; and their slanders impudent.
Perhaps, upon the rumour of their speeches,
Some grieved friend will whisper to me; Crites,
Men speak ill of thee. So they be ill men,
If they spake worse, 'twere better: for of such
To be dispraised, is the most perfect praise.
What can his censure hurt me, whom the world
Hath censured vile before me! If good Chrestus,
Euthus, or Phronimus, had spoke the words,
They would have moved me. and I should have call'd
My thoughts and actions to a strict account
Upon the hearing: but when I remember,
'Tis Hedon and Anaides, alas, then
I think but what they are, and am not stirr'd.
The one a light voluptuous reveller,
The other, a strange arrogating puff,
Both impudent, and ignorant enough;
That talk as they are wont, not as I merit;
Traduce by custom, as most dogs do bark,
Do nothing out of judgment, but disease;
Speak ill, because they never could speak well:
And who'd be angry with this race of creatures?
What wise physician have we ever seen
Moved with a frantic man? the same affects
That he doth bear to his sick patient,
Should a right mind carry to such as these;
And I do count it a most rare revenge,
That I can thus, with such a sweet neglect,
Pluck from them all the pleasure of their malice;
For that's the mark of all their enginous drifts,
To wound my patience, howso'er they seem
To aim at other objects; which if miss'd,
Their envy's like an arrow shot upright,
That, in the fall, endangers their own heads.
ENTER ARETE.
ARE. What, Crites! where have you drawn forth the day,
You have not visited your jealous friends?
CRI. Where I have seen, most honour'd Arete,
The strangest pageant, fashion'd like a court,
(At least I dreamt I saw it) so diffused,
So painted, pied, and full of rainbow strains;
As never yet, either by time, or place,
Was made the food to my distasted sense;
Nor can my weak imperfect memory
Now render half the forms unto my tongue,
That were convolved within this thrifty room.
Here stalks me by a proud and spangled sir,
That looks three handfuls higher then his foretop;
Savours himself alone, is only kind
And loving to himself; one that will speak
MORe dark and doubtful than six oracles!
Salutes a friend, as if he had a stitch;
Is his own chronicle, and scarce can eat
For regist'ring himself; is waited on
By mimics, jesters, panders, parasites,
And other such like prodigies of men.
He past, appears some mincing marmoset
Made all of clothes and face; his limbs so set
As if they had some voluntary act
Without a man's motion, and must move just so
In spight of their creation: one that weighs
His breath between his teeth, and dares not smile
Beyond a point, for fear t'unstarch his look;
Hath travell'd to make legs, and seen the cringe
Of several courts, and courtiers; knows the time
Of giving titles, and of taking walls;
Hath read court common-places; made them his:
Studied the grammar of state, and all the rules
Each formal usher in that politic school
Can teach a man. A third comes, giving nods
To his repenting creditors, protests
To weeping suitors, takes the coming gold
Of insolent and base ambition,
That hourly rubs his dry and itchy palms;
Which griped, like burning coals, he hurls away
Into the laps of bawds, and buffoons' mouths.
With him there meets some subtle Proteus, one
Can change, and vary with all forms he sees;
Be any thing but honest; serves the time;
Hovers betwixt two factions, and explores
The drifts of both; which, with cross face, he bears
To the divided heads, and is received
With mutual grace of either: one that dares
Do deeds worthy the hurdle or the wheel,
To be thought somebody; and is in sooth
Such as the satirist points truly forth,
That only to his crimes owes all his worth.
ARE. You tell us wonders, Crites.
CRI. This is nothing.
There stands a neophite glazing of his face,
Pruning his clothes, perfuming of his hair,
Against his Idol enters; and repeats,
Like an unperfect prologue, at third music,
His part of speeches, and confederate jests,
In passion to himself. Another swears
His scene of courtship over; bids, believe him,
Twenty times ere they will; anon, doth seem
As he would kiss away his hand in kindness;
Then walks off melancholic, and stands wreath'd,
As he were pinn'd up to the arras, thus.
A third is most in action, swims, and frisks,
Plays with his mistress's paps, salutes her pumps;
Adores her hems, her skirts, her knots, her curls,
Will spend his patrimony for a garter,
Or the least feather in her bounteous fan.
A fourth, he only comes in for a mute;
Divides the act with a dumb show, and exit.
Then must the ladies laugh, straight comes their scene,
A sixth times worse confusion then the rest.
Where you shall hear one talk of this man's eye,
Another of his lip, a third, his nose,
A fourth commend his leg, a fifth his foot,
A sixth, his hand, and every one a limb;
That you would think the poor distorted gallant
Must there expire. Then fall they in discourse
Of tires, and fashions, how they must take place,
Where they may kiss, and whom, when to sit down,
And with what grace to rise; if they salute,
What court'sy they must use; such cobweb stuff
As would enforce the common'st sense abhor
Th' Arachnean workers.
ARE. Patience, gentle Crites.
This knot of spiders will be soon dissolved,
And all their webs swept out of Cynthia's court,
When once her glorious deity appears,
And but presents itself in her full light:
'Till when, go in, and spend your hours with us,
Your honour'd friends. Time, and Phronesis,
In contemplation of our goddess' name.
Think on some sweet and choice invention now,
Worthy her serious and illustrious eyes,
That from the merit of it we may take
Desired occasion to prefer your worth,
And make your service known to Cynthia.
It is the pride of Arete to grace
Her studious lovers; and, in scorn of time,
Envy, and ignorance, to lift their state
Above a vulgar height. True happiness
Consists not in the multitude of friends,
But in their worth, and choice. Nor would I have
Virtue a popular regard pursue:
Let them be good that love me, though but few.
CRI. I kiss thy hands, divinest Arete,
And vow myself to thee, and Cynthia.
[EXEUNT.
SCENE III. — ANOTHER APARTMENT IN THE SAME.
ENTER AMORPHUS, FOLLOWED BY ASOTUS AND HIS TAILOR.
AMO. A little more forward: so, sir. Now go in, discloak
yourself, and
come forth. Tailor; bestow thy absence upon us; and be not
prodigal of
this secret, but to a dear customer.
[EXIT TAILOR.
RE-ENTER ASOTUS.
'Tis well enter'd sir. Stay, you come on too fast; your pace is
too
impetuous. Imagine this to be the palace of your pleasure, or
place where
your lady is pleased to be seen. First you present yourself,
thus: and
spying her, you fall off, and walk some two turns; in which time,
it is to
be supposed, your passion hath sufficiently whited your face, then,
stifling a sigh or two, and closing your lips, with a trembling
boldness,
and bold terror, you advance yourself forward. Prove thus much, I
pray you.
ASO. Yes, sir; — pray Jove I can light on it! Here I
come in, you say,
and present myself?
AMO. Good.
ASO/ And then I spy her, and walk off?
AMO. Very good.
ASO. Now, sir, I stifle, and advance forward?
AMO. Trembling.
ASO. Yes, sir, trembling; I shall do it better when I come
to it. And
what must I speak now?
AMO. Marry, you shall say; "Dear Beauty", or "sweet
Honour" (or by what
other title you please to remember her), "methinks you are
melancholy".
This is, if she be alone now, and discompanied.
ASO. Well, sir, I'll enter again; her title shall be, "My
dear Lindabrides".
AMO. Lindabrides!
ASO. Ay, sir, the emperor Alicandroe's daughter, and the
prince Meridian's
sister, in "the Knight of the Sun"; she should have been married
to him,
but that the princess Claridiana —
AMO. O, you betray your reading.
ASO. Nay, sir, I have read history, I am a little
humanitian. Interrupt
me not, good sir. "My dear Lindabrides, — my dear Lindabrides,
— my dear
Lindabrides, methinks you are melancholy".
AMO. Ay, and take her by the rosy finger'd hand.
ASO. Must I so: O! — "My dear Lindabrides, methinks you
are melancholy".
AMO. Or thus sir. "All variety of divine pleasures,
choice sports, sweet
music, rich fare, brave attire, soft beds, and silken thoughts,
attend this
dear beauty."
ASO. Believe me, that's pretty. "All variety of divine
pleasures, choice
sports, sweet music, rich fare, brave attire, soft beds, and silken
thoughts, attend this dear beauty."
AMO. And then, offering to kiss her hand, if she shall
coily recoil, and
signify your repulse, you are to re-enforce yourself with,
"More than most fair lady,
Let not the rigour of your just disdain
Thus coarsely censure of your servant's zeal."
And withal, protest her to be the only and absolute unparallel'd
creature
you do adore, and admire, and respect, and reverence, in this
court, corner
of the world, or kingdom.
ASO. This is hard, by my faith. I'll begin it all again.
AMO. Do so, and I will act it for your lady.
ASO. Will you vouchsafe, sir? "All variety of divine
pleasures, choice
sports, sweet music, rich fare, brave attire, soft beds, and silken
thoughts, attend this dear beauty."
AMO. So sir, pray you, away.
ASO. "More then most fair lady,
Let not the rigour of your just disdain
Thus coarsely censure of your servant's zeal;
I protest you are the only and absolute unapparell'd —
AMO. Unparallel'd.
ASO. Unparallel'd creature, I do adore, and admire, and
respect, and
reverence, in this corner of the world, or kingdom."
AMO. This is, if she abide you. But now, put case she
should be passant
when you enter, as thus: you are to frame your gait thereafter,
and call
upon her, "lady, nymph, sweet refuge, star of our court. Then, if
she be
guardant, here; you are to come on, and, laterally disposing
yourself,
swear by her blushing and well-coloured cheek, the bright dye of
her hair,
her ivory teeth, though they be ebony,) or some such white and
innocent
oath, to induce you. If regardant, then, maintain your station,
brisk and
irpe, show the supple motion of your pliant body, but in chief of
your
knee, and hand, which cannot but arride her proud humour
exceedingly.
ASO. I conceive you sir. I shall perform all these things
in good time, I
doubt not, they do so hit me.
AMO. Well sir, I am your lady; make use of any of these
beginnings, or
some other out of your own invention; and prove how you can hold
up, and
follow it. Say, say.
ASO. Yes sir. "My dear Lindabrides."
AMO. No, you affect that Lindabrides too much; and let me
tell you it is
not so courtly. Your pedant should provide you some parcels of
French, or
some pretty commodity of Italian, to commence with, if you would
be exotic
and exquisite.
ASO. Yes, sir, he was at my lodging t'other morning, I
gave him a doublet.
AMO. Double your benevolence, and give him the hose too;
clothe you his
body, he will help to apparel your mind. But now, see what your
proper
genius can perform alone, without adjection of any other Minerva.
ASO. I comprehend you sir.
AMO. I do stand you, sir; fall back to your first place.
Good, passing
well: very properly pursued.
ASO. "Beautiful, ambiguous, and sufficient lady, what! are
you all alone?"
AMO. "We would be, sir, if you would leave us."
ASO. "I am at your beauty's appointment, bright angel; but
—"
AMO "What but?"
ASO. "No harm, more than most fair feature."
AMO. That touch relish'd well.
ASO. "But I protest —"
AMO. "And why should you protest?"
ASO. "For good will, dear esteem'd madam, and I hope your
ladyship will so
conceive of it:
And will, in time, return from your disdain,
And rue the suff'rance of our friendly pain."
AMO. O, that piece was excellent! If you could pick out
more of these
play-particles, and, as occasion shall salute you, embroider or
damask your
discourse with them, persuade your soul, it would most judiciously
commend
you. Come, this was a well-discharged and auspicious bout. Prove
the
second.
ASO. "Lady, I cannot ruffle it in red and yellow."
AMO. "Why if you can revel it in white, sir, 'tis
sufficient."
ASO. "Say you so, sweet lady! Lan, tede de, de, de, dant,
dant, dant,
dante. [SINGS AND DANCES.] No, in good faith, madam, whosever
told your
ladyship so, abused you; but I would be glad to meet your ladyship
in a
measure."
AMO. "Me sir! Belike you measure me by yourself, then?"
ASO. "Would I might, fair feature."
AMO. "And what were you the better, if you might?"
ASO. "The better it please you to ask, fair lady."
AMO. Why, this was ravishing, and most acutely continued.
Well, spend not
your humour too much, you have now competently exercised your
conceit:
this, once or twice a day, will render you an accomplish'd,
elaborate, and
well-levell'd; gallant. Convey in your courting-stock, we will in
the heat
of this go visit the nymphs' chamber.
———————————————————————
SCENE I. — AN APARTMENT IN THE PALACE.
ENTER PHANTASTE, PHILAUTIA, ARGURION, MORIA, AND CUPID.
PHA. I would this water would arrive once, our travelling
friend so
commended to us.
ARG. So would I, for he has left all us in travail with
expectation of it.
PHA. Pray Jove, I never rise from this couch, if ever I
thirsted more for
a thing in my whole time of being a courtier.
PHI Nor I, I'll be sworn: the very mention of it sets my
lips in a worse
heat, than if he had sprinkled them with mercury. Reach me the
glass,
sirrah.
CUP. Here, lady.
MOR. They do not peel, sweet charge, do they?
PHI. Yes, a little guardian.
MOR. O, 'tis a eminent good sign. Ever when my lips do
so, I am sure to
have some delicious good drink or other approaching.
ARG. Marry, and this may be good for us ladies, for it
seems 'tis far fet
by their stay.
MOR. My palate for yours, dear Honour, it shall prove most
elegant I
warrant you. O, I do fancy this gear that's long a coming, with an
unmeasurable strain.
PHA. Pray thee sit down, Philautia; that rebatu becomes
thee singularly.
PHI. Is it not quaint?
PHA. Yes faith. Methinks, thy servant Hedon is nothing so
obsequious to
thee, as he was wont to be: I know not how, he is grown out of
his garb
a-late, he's warp'd.
MOR. In trueness, and so methinks too; he is much
converted.
PHI. Tut; let him be what he will, 'tis an animal I dream
not of. This
tire, methinks, makes me look very Ingeniously, quick, and
spirited; I
should be some Laura, or some Delia methinks.
MOR. As I am wise, fair Honours, that title she gave him,
to be her
Ambition, spoil'd him: before, he was the most propitious, and
observant
young novice —
PHA. No, no, you are the whole heaven awry, guardian; 'tis
the swaggering
coach-horse Anaides draws with him there, has been the diverter of
him.
PHI. For Cupid's sake speak no more of him; would I might
never dare to
look in a mirror again, if I respect ever a marmoset of 'em all,
otherwise,
than I would a feather, or my shuttle-cock, to make sport with now
and then.
PHA. Come sit down: troth, and you be good beauties, let's
run over them
all now: Which is the properest man amongst them? I say, the
traveller,
AMOrphus.
PHI. O, fie on him, he looks like a Venetian trumpeter in
the battle of
Lepanto, in the gallery yonder; and speaks to the tune of a
country lady,
that comes ever in the rearward or train of a fashion.
MOR. I should have judgement in a feature, sweet beauties.
PHA. A body would think so, at these years.
MOR. And I prefer another now, far before him, a million
at least.
PHA. Who might that be, guardian?
MOR. Marry, fair charge, Anaides.
PHA. Anaides! you talk'd of a tune, Philautia; there's one
speaks in a
key, like the opening of some justice's gate, or a postboy's horn,
as if
his voice feared an arrest for some ill words it should give, and
were loth
to come forth.
PHI. Ay, and he has a very imperfect face.
PHA. Like a sea-monster, that were to ravish Andromeda
from the rock.
PHI. His hands too great too, by at least a straw's
breadth.
PHA. Nay, he has a worse fault than that too.
PHI. A long heel?
PHA. That were a fault in a lady, rather than him: no,
they say he puts
off the calves of his legs, with his stockings, every night.
PHI. Out upon him! Turn to another of the pictures, for
love's sake.
What says Argurion? Whom does she commend afore the rest?
CUP. I hope I have instructed her sufficiently for an
answer
[ASIDE.
MOR. Troth, I made the motion to her ladyship for one
to-day, i'the
presence, but it appear'd she was otherways furnished before: she
would
none.
PHA. Who was that Argurion?
MOR. Marry, the poor, plain gentleman in the black there.
PHA. Who, Crites?
ARG. Ay, ay, he: a fellow that nobody so much as look'd
upon, or regarded;
and she would have had me done him particular grace.
PHA. That was a true trick of yourself, Moria, to persuade
Argurion to
affect the scholar.
ARG. Tut, but she shall be no chooser for me. In good
faith, I like the
citizen's son there, Asotus; methinks, none of them all come near
him.
PHA. Not Hedon?
ARG. Hedon! in troth no. Hedon's a pretty slight
courtier, and he wears
his clothes well, and sometimes in fashion; marry, his face is but
indifferent, and he has no such excellent body. No, the other is
a most
delicate youth; a sweet face, a straight body, a well-proportion'd
leg and
foot, a white hand, a tender voice.
PHI. How now, Argurion!
PHA. O, you should have let her alone, she was bestowing a
copy of him
upon us. Such a nose were enough to make me love a man, now.
PHI. And then his several colours he wears; wherein he
flourisheth
changeably, every day.
PHA. O, but his short hair, and his narrow eyes!
PHI. Why she doats more palpably upon him than ever his
father did upon her.
PHA. Believe me, the young gentleman deserves it. If she
could doat more
it were not amiss. He is an exceeding proper youth, and would
have made a
most neat barber surgeon, if he had been put to it in time.
PHI. Say you so? Methinks he looks like a tailor already.
PHA. Ay, that had sayed on one of his customer's suits.
His face is like
a squeezed orange, or —
ARG. Well ladies, jest on: the best of you both would be
glad of such a
servant.
MOR. Ay, I'll be sworn would they, though he be a little
shame-faced.
PHA. Shame-faced, Moria! out upon him. Your shame-faced
servant is your
only gull.
MOR. Go to, beauties, make much of time, and place, and
occasion, and
opportunity, and favourites, and things that belong to them, for
I'll
ensure you they will all relinquish; they cannot endure above
another year;
I know it out of future experience; and therefore take exhibition,
and
warning: I was once a reveller myself, and though I speak it, as
mine own
trumpet, I was then esteem'd —
PHI. The very march-pane of the court, I warrant you.
PHA. And all the gallants came about you like flies, did
they not?
MOR. Go to, they did somewhat; that's no matter now.
PHA. Nay, good Moria, be not angry. Put case, that we
four now had the
grant from Juno, to wish ourselves into what happy estate we
could, what
would you wish to be, Moria?
MOR. Who, I! let me see now. I would wish to be a wise
woman, and know
all the secrets of court, city, and country. I would know what
were done
behind the arras, what upon the stairs, what in the garden, what
in the
nymphs' chamber, what by barge, and what by coach. I would tell
you which
courtier were scabbed and which not; which lady had her own face
to lie
with her a-nights and which not; who put off their teeth with
their clothes
in court, who their hair, who their complexion; and in which box
they put
it. There should not a nymph, or a widow, be got with child in
the verge,
but I would guess, within one or two, who was the right father,
and in what
month it was gotten; with what words, and which way. I would tell
you
which madam loved a monsieur, which a player, which a page; who
slept with
her husband, who with her friend, who with her gentleman-usher,
who with
her horse-keeper, who with her monkey, and who with all; yes, and
who
jigg'd the cock too.
PHA. Fie, you'd tell all, Moria! If I should wish now, it
should be to
have your tongue out. But what says Philautia? Who should she be?
PHI. Troth, the very same I am. Only I would wish myself
a little more
command and sovereignty; that all the court were subject to my
absolute
back, and all things in it depending on my look; as if there were
no other
heaven but in my smile, nor other hell but in my frown; that I
might send
for any man I list, and have his head cut off when I have done
with him, or
made an eunuch if he denied me; and if I saw a better face than
mine own, I
might have my doctor to poison it. What would you wish, Phantaste?
PHA. Faith, I cannot readily tell you what: but methinks
I should wish
myself all manner of creatures. Now I would be an empress, and by
and by a
duchess; then a great lady of state, then one of your miscellany
madams,
then a waiting-woman, then your citizen's wife, then a coarse
country
gentlewoman, then a dairy-maid, then a shepherd's lass, then an
empress
again, or the queen of fairies: and thus I would prove the
vicissitudes
and whirl of pleasures about and again. As I were a shepherdess,
I would
be piped and sung to; as a dairy-wench, I would dance at maypoles,
and make
syllabubs; as a country gentlewoman, keep a good house, and come
up to term
to see motions; as a citizen's wife, to be troubled with a jealous
husband,
and put to my shifts; others' miseries should be my pleasures. As
a
waiting-woman, I would taste my lady's delights to her; as a
miscellany
madam, invent new tires, and go visit courtiers; as a great lady,
lie
a-bed, and have courtiers visit me; as a duchess, I would keep my
state;
and as an empress, I would do any thing. And, in all these
shapes, I would
ever be follow'd with the affections of all that see me. Marry, I
myself
would affect none; or if I did, it should not be heartily, but so
as I
might save myself in them still, and take pride in tormenting the
poor
wretches. Or, now I think on't, I would, for one year, wish
myself one
woman; but the richest, fairest, and delicatest in a kingdom, the
very
centre of wealth and beauty, wherein all lines of love should
meet; and in
that person I would prove all manner of suitors, of all humours,
and of all
complexions, and never have any two of a sort. I would see how
love, by
the power of his object, could work inwardly alike, in a choleric
man and a
sanguine, in a melancholic and a phlegmatic, in a fool and a wise
man, in a
clown and a courtier, in a valiant man and a coward; and how he
could vary
outward, by letting this gallant express himself in dumb gaze;
another with
sighing and rubbing his fingers; a third with play-ends and
pitiful verses;
a fourth, with stabbing himself, and drinking healths, or writing
languishing letters in his blood; a fifth, in colour'd ribands and
good
clothes; with this lord to smile, and that lord to court, and the
t'other
lord to dote, and one lord to hang himself. And, then, I to have
a gook
made of all this, which I would call the "Book of Humours", and
every night
read a little piece ere I slept, and laugh at it. — Here comes
Hedon.
ENTER HEDON, ANAIDES, AND MERCURY, WHO RETIRES WITH CUPID TO THE
BACK OF
THE STAGE, WHERE THEY CONVERSE TOGETHER.
HED. Save you sweet and clear beauties! By the spirit
that moves in me,
you are almost pleasingly bestow'd ladies. Only, I can take it
for no good
omen, to find mine Honour so dejected.
PHI. You need not fear, sir; I did of purpose humble
myself against your
coming, to decline the pride of my Ambition.
HED. Fair Honour, Ambition dares not stoop; but if it be
your sweet
pleasure, I shall lose that title, I will, as I am Hedon, apply
myself to
your bounties.
PHI. That were the next way to dis-title myself of honour.
O, no, rather
be still Ambitious, I pray you.
HED. I will be any thing that you please, whilst it
pleaseth you to be
yourself, lady. Sweet Phantaste, dear Moria, most beautiful
Argurion —
ANA. Farewell, Hedon.
HED. Anaides, stay, whither go you?
ANA. 'Slight, what should I do here? an you engross them
all for your own
use, 'tis time for me to seek out.
HED. I engross them! Away, mischief; this is one of your
extravagant
jests now, because I began to salute them by their names
ANA. Faith, you might have spared us madam Prudence, the
guardian there,
though you had more covetously aim'd at the rest.
HED. 'Sheart, take them all, man: what speak you to me of
aiming or covetous?
ANA. Ay, say you so! nay, then, have at them: Ladies,
here's one hath
distinguish'd you by your names already: It shall only become me
to ask
how you do.
HED. Ods so, was this the design you travail'd with?
PHA. Who answers the brazen head? it spoke to somebody.
ANA. Lady Wisdom, do you Interpret for these puppets?
MOR. In truth, and sadness, Honours, you are in great
offence for this.
Go to; the gentleman (I'll undertake with him) is a man of fair
living, and
able to maintain a lady in her two coaches a day, besides pages,
monkeys,
and paraquettoes, with such attendants as she shall think meet for
her
turn; and therefore there is more respect requirable, howso'er you
seem to
connive. Hark you, sir, let me discourse a syllable with you. I
am to say
to you, these ladies are not of that close and open behaviour as
haply you
may suspend; their carriage is well known to be such as it should
be, both
gentle and extraordinary.
MER. O, here comes the other pair.
ENTER AMORPHUS AND ASOTUS.
AMO. That was your father's love, the nymph Argurion. I
would have you
direct all your courtship thither; if you could but endear
yourself to her
affection, you were eternally engallanted.
ASO. In truth, sir! pray Phoebus I prove favoursome in
her fair eyes.
AMO. All divine mixture, and increase of beauty to this
bright bevy of
ladies; and to the male courtiers compliment and courtesy.
HED. In the behalf of the males, I gratify you, Amorphus.
PHA. And I of the females.
AMO. Succinctly return'd. I do vail to both your thanks,
and kiss them;
but primarily to yours, most ingenious, acute, and polite lady.
PHI. Ods my life, how he does all-to-bequalify her!
"ingenious, acute",
and "polite" as she.
HED Yes, but you must know, lady, he cannot speak out of a
dictionary method.
PHA. Sit down, sweet Amorphus. When will this water come,
think you?
AMO. It cannot now be long, fair lady.
CUP. Now observe, Mercury.
ASO. How, most ambiguous beauty! love you? that I will
by this handkerchief.
MER. 'Slid, he draws his oaths out of his pocket.
ARG But will you be constant?
ASO. Constant, madam! I will not say for constantness;
but by this purse,
which I would be loth to swear by, unless it were embroidered, I
protest,
MORe then most fair lady you are the only absolute, and
unparallel'd
creature, I do adore, and admire, and respect, and reverence in
this court,
corner of the world, or kingdom. Methinks you are melancholy.
ARG. Does your heart speak all this?
ASO. Say you?
MER. O he is groping for another oath.
ASO. Now by this Watch — I marle how forward the day is
— I do
unfeignedly avow myself — 'slight 'tis deeper than I took it,
past five —
yours entirely addicted, madam.
ARG. I require no more dearest Asotus; henceforth let me
call you mine,
and in remembrance of me, vouchsafe to wear this chain and this
diamond.
ASO. O lord, sweet lady!
CUP. There are new oaths for him. What! doth Hermes taste
no alteration
in all this?
MER. Yes, thou hast strook Argurion enamour'd on Asotus
methinks.
CUP. Alas, no; I am nobody, I; I can do nothing in this
disguise.
MER. But thou hast not wounded any of the rest, Cupid.
CUP. Not yet; it is enough that I have begun so
prosperously.
ARG. Nay, these are nothing to the gems I will hourly
bestow upon thee; be
but faithful and kind to me, and I will lade thee with my richest
bounties:
behold here my bracelets from mine arms.
ASO. Not so, good lady, by this diamond.
ARG. Take 'em, wear 'em; my jewels, chain of pearl
pendants, all I have.
ASO. Nay then, by this pearl you make me a wanton.
CUP. Shall not she answer for this, to maintain him thus
in swearing?
MER. O no, there is a way to wean him from this, the
gentleman may be
reclaim'd.
CUP. Ay, if you had the airing of his apparel, coz, I
think.
ASO. Loving! 'twere pity an I should be living else,
believe me. Save
you, sir, save you, sweet lady, save you, monsieur Anaides, save
you, dear
madam.
ANA. Dost thou know him that saluted thee, Hedon?
HED. No, some idle Fungoso, that hath got above the
cupboard since yesterday.
ANA. 'Slud, I never saw him till this morning, and he
salutes me as
familiarly, as if we had known together since the deluge, or the
first year
of Troy action..
AMO. A most right-handed and auspicious encounter.
Confine yourself to
your fortunes.
PHI. For sport's sake let's have some Riddles or Purposes,
ho!
PHA. No, faith, your Prophecies are best, the t'other are
stale.
PHI. Prophecies! we cannot all sit in at them; we shall
make a confusion.
No; what call'd you that we had in the forenoon?
PHA. Substantives, and adjectives, is it not, Hedon?
PHI. Ay that. Who begins?
PHA. I have thought; speak your adjectives, sirs.
PHI. But do not you change then.
PHA. Not I. Who says?
MOR. Odoriferous.
PHI. Popular.
ARG. Humble.
ANA. White-liver'd.
HED. Barbarous.
AMO. Pythagorical.
HED. Yours, signior.
ASO. What must I do, sir?
AMO. Give forth your adjective with the rest; as
prosperous, good, fair,
sweet, well —
HED. Anything that hath not been spoken.
ASO. Yes, sir, well spoken shall be mine.
PHA. What, have you all done?
ALL. Ay.
PHA. Then the substantive is Breeches. Why 'odoriferous'
breeches, guardian?
MOR. Odoriferous, — because odoriferous: that which
contains most variety
of savour and smell we say is most odoriferous; now breeches, I
presume, are incident to that variety, and therefore odoriferous
breeches.
PHA. Well, we must take it howsoever. Who's next?
Philautia?
PHI. Popular.
PHA. Why 'popular' breeches?
PHA. Marry, that is, when they are not content to be
generally noted in
court, but will press forth on common stages and brokers' stalls,
to the
public view of the world.
PHA. Good. Why 'humble' breeches, Argurion?
ARG. Humble! because they use to be sat upon; besides, if
you tie them
not up, their property is to fall down about your heels.
MER. She has worn the breeches, it seems, which have done
so.
PHA. But why 'white-liver'd?'
ANA. Why! are not their linings white? Besides, when
they come in
swaggering company, and will pocket up any thing, may they not
properly be
said to be white-liver'd?
PHA. O yes, we must not deny it. And why 'barbarous',
Hedon?
HED. Barbarous! because commonly, when you have worn your
breeches
sufficiently, you give them to your barber.
AMO. That's good; but how 'Pythagorical?'
PHI. Ay, Amorphus, why Pythagorical breeches?
AMO. O most kindly of all; 'tis a conceit of that fortune,
I am bold to
hug my brain for.
PHA. How is it, exquisite Amorphus?
AMO. O, I am rapt with it, 'tis so fit, so proper, so
happy —
PHI. Nay, do not rack us thus.
AMO. I never truly relish'd myself before. Give me your
ears. Breeches
Pythagorical, by reason of their transmigration into several
shapes.
MOR. Most rare, in sweet troth. Marry this young
gentleman, for his
well-spoken —
PHA. Ay, why 'well-spoken' breeches?
ASO. Well-spoken! Marry, well-spoken, because —
whatsoever they speak
is well-taken; and whatsoever is well taken is well-spoken.
MOR. Excellent! believe me.
ASO. Not so, ladies, neither.
HED. But why breeches, now?
PHA. Breeches, 'quasi' bear-riches; when a gallant bears
all his riches in
his breeches.
AMO. Most fortunately etymologised.
PHA. 'Nay, we have another sport afore this, of A thing
done, and who did
it, etc.
PHI. Ay, good Phantaste, let's have that: distribute the
places.
PHA. Why, I imagine, A thing done; Hedon thinks, who did
it; Moria, with
what it was done; Anaides, where it was done; Argurion, when it
was done;
AMOrphus, for what cause was it done; you, Philautia, what
followed upon
the doing of it; and this gentleman, who would have done it
better. What?
is it conceived about?
ALL. Yes, yes.
PHA. Then speak you, sir. "Who would have done it better?"
ASO. How! does it begin at me?
PHA. Yes, sir: this play is called the Crab, it goes
backward.
ASO. May I not name myself?
PHI. If you please, sir, and dare abide the venture of it.
ASO. Then I would have done it better, whatever it is.
PHA. No doubt on't, sir: a good confidence. "What
followed upon the
act", Philautia?
PHI. A few heat drops, and a month's mirth.
PHA. "For what cause", Amorphus?
AMO. For the delight of ladies.
PHA. "When", Argurion?
ARG. Last progress.
PHA. "Where", Anaides?
ANA. Why, in a pair of pain'd slops.
PHA. "With what", Moria?
MOR. With a glyster.
PHA. "Who", Hedon?
HED. A traveller.
PHA. Then the thing done was, "An oration was made."
Rehearse. An
oration was made —
HED. By a traveller —
MOR. With a glyster —
ANA. In a pair of pain'd slops —
ARG. Last progress
AMO. For the delight of ladies —
PHI. A few heat drops, and a month's mirth followed.
PHA. And, this silent gentleman would have done it better.
ASO. This was not so good, now.
PHI. In good faith, these unhappy pages, would be whipp'd
for staying thus.
MOR. Beshrew my hand and my heart else.
AMO. I do wonder at their protraction.
ANA. Pray Venus my whore have not discover'd herself to
the rascally boys,
and that be the cause of their stay.
ASO. I must suit myself with another page: this idle
Prosaites will never
be brought to wait well.
MOR. Sir, I have a kinsman I could willingly wish to your
service, if you
would deign to accept of him.
ASO. And I shall be glad, most sweet lady, to embrace him:
Where is he?
MOR. I can fetch him, sir, but I would be loth to make you
turn away your
other page.
ASO. You shall not most sufficient lady; I will keep both:
pray you let
us go see him.
ARG. Whither goes my love?
ASO. I'll return presently, I go but to see a page with
this lady.
[EXEUNT ASOTUS AND MORIA.
ANA. As sure as fate, 'tis so: she has opened all: a pox
of all
cockatrices! D—n me, if she have play'd loose with me, I'll cut
her
throat within a hair's breadth, so it may be heal'd again.
MER. What, is he jealous of his hermaphrodite?
CUP. O, ay, this will be excellent sport.
PHI. Phantaste, Argurion! what, you are suddenly struck,
methinks! For
love's sake let's have some music till they come: Ambition reach
the lyra,
I pray you.
HED. Anything to which my Honour shall direct me.
PHI. Come Amorphus, cheer up Phantaste.
AMO. It shall be my pride, fair lady, to attempt all that
is in my power.
But here is an Instrument that alone is able to infuse soul into
the most
melancholic and dull-disposed creature upon earth. O, let me kiss
thy fair
knees. Beauteous ears attend it.
HED. Will you have "the Kiss" Honour?
PHI. Ay, good Ambition.
HEDON SINGS.
O, that joy so soon should waste!
Or so sweet a bliss
As a kiss
Might not for ever last!
So sugar'd, so melting, so soft, so delicious,
The dew that lies on roses,
When the morn herself discloses,
is not so precious.
O rather than I would it smother,
Were I to taste such another;
It should be my wishing
That I might die with kissing.
HED. I made this ditty, and the note to it, upon a kiss
that my Honour
gave me; how like you it, sir?
AMO. A pretty air; in general, I like it well: but in
particular, your
long die-Note did arride me most, but it was somewhat too long. I
can show
one almost of the same nature, but much before it, and not so
long, in a
composition of mine own. I think I have both the note and ditty
about me.
HED. Pray you, sir, see.
AMO. Yes, there is the note; and all the parts, if I
misthink not. I will
read the ditty to your beauties here; but first I am to make you
familiar
with the occasion, which presents itself thus. Upon a time, going
to take
my leave of the emperor, and kiss his great hands, there being
then present
the kings of France and Arragon, the dukes of Savoy, Florence,
Orleans,
Bourbon, Brunswick, the Landgrave, Count Palatine; all which had
severally
feasted me; besides infinite more of inferior persons, as counts
and
others: it was my chance (the Emperor detained by some exorbitant
affair)
to wait him the fifth part of an hour, or much near it. In which
time,
retiring myself into a bay-window, the beauteous lady Annabel,
niece to the
empress, and sister to the king of Arragon, who having never
before eyed
me, but only heard the common report of my virtue, learning, and
travel,
fell into that extremity of passion, for my love, that she there
immediately swooned: physicians were sent for, she had to her
chamber, so
to her bed; where, languishing some few days, after many times
calling upon
me, with my name in her lips, she expired. As that (I must
mourningly say)
is the only fault of my fortune, that, as it hath ever been my hap
to be
sued to, by all ladies and beauties, where I have come; so, I
never yet
sojourn'd, or rested in that place, or part of the world, where
some
high-born, admirable, fair feature died not for my love.
MER. O, the sweet power of travel! — Are you guilty of
this, Cupid?
CUP. No, Mercury; and that his page Cos knows, if he were
here present to
be sworn.
PHI. But how doth this draw on the ditty, sir?
MER. O, she is too quick with him; he hath not devised
that yet.
AMO. Marry, some hour before she departed, she bequeath'd
to me this
glove: which golden legacy, the emperor himself took care to
send after
me, in six coaches, cover'd all with black-velvet, attended by the
state of
his empire; all which he freely presented me with: and I
reciprocally (out
of the same bounty) gave to the lords that brought it: only
reserving the
gift of the deceased lady, upon which I composed this ode, and set
it to my
most affected Instrument the lyra.
Thou more then most sweet glove,
Unto my more sweet love,
Suffer me to store, with kisses
This empty lodging, that now misses
The pure rosy hand that wear thee,
Whiter then the kid that bare thee:
Thou art soft, but that was softer;
Cupid's self hath kiss'd it ofter
Than ere he did his mother's doves.
Supposing her the queen of loves
That was thy mistress, BEST OF GLOVES.
MER. Blasphemy, blasphemy, Cupid!
CUP. I'll revenge it time enough, Hermes.
PHI. Good Amorphus, let's hear it sung.
AMO. I care not to admit that, since it pleaseth Philautia
to request it.
HED. Here, sir.
AMO. Nay, play it, I pray you; you do well, you do well.
[HE SINGS IT.]
— How like you it, sir?
HED. Very well, in troth.
AMO. But very well! O, you are a mere mammothrept in
judgement, then.
Why do not observe how excellently the ditty is affected in every
place?
that I do not marry a word of short quantity, to a long note? nor
an
ascending syllable to a descending tone? Besides, upon the word
'best'
there, you see how I do enter with an odd minum, and drive it
thorough the
brief; which no intelligent musician, I know, but will affirm to
be very
rare, extraordinary, and pleasing.
MER. And yet not fit to lament the death of a lady, for
all this.
CUP. Tut, here be they will swallow anything.
PHA. Pray you, let me have a copy of it, Amorphus.
PHI. And me too; in troth I like it exceedingly.
AMO. I have denied it to princes; nevertheless to you, the
true female
twins of perfection, I am won to depart withal.
HED. I hope I shall have my Honour's copy.
PHA. You are Ambitious in that, Hedon.
RE-ENTER ANAIDES.
AMO. How now, Anaides? what is it hath conjured up this
distemperature in
the circle of your face?
ANA. Why, what have you to do? A pox upon your filthy
travelling face!
hold your tongue.
HED. Nay, dost hear, Mischief?
ANA. Away, musk-cat!
AMO. I say to thee thou art rude, debauch'd, impudent,
coarse, unpolish'd,
a frapler, and base.
HED. Heart of my father, what a strange alteration has
half a year's
haunting of ordinaries wrought in this fellow! that came with
a tufftaffata jerkin to town but the other day, and a pair of
pennyless
hose, and now he is turn'd Hercules, he wants but a club.
ANA. Sir, you with the pencil on your chin; I will garter
my hose with
your guts, and that shall be all.
[EXIT.
MER. 'Slid, what rare fireworks be here? flash, flash.
PHA. What is the matter Hedon? can you tell?
HED. Nothing, but that he lacks crowns, and thinks we'll
lend him some to
be friends.
RE-ENTER ASOTUS AND MORIA, WITH MORUS.
ASO. Come sweet lady, in good truth I'll have it, you
shall not deny me.
Morus, persuade your aunt I may have her picture, by any means.
MORUS. Yea, sir: good aunt now, let him have it; he will
use me the
better; if you love me do, good aunt.
MOR. Well, tell him he shall have it.
MORUS. Master, you shall have it, she says.
ASO. Shall I? thank her, good page.
CUP. What, has he entertained the fool?
MER. Ay, he'll wait close, you shall see, though the
beggar hang off a while.
MORUS. Aunt, my master thanks you.
MOR. Call him hither.
MORUS. Yes; master.
MOR. Yes, in verity, and gave me this purse, and he has
promised me a most
fine dog; which he will have drawn with my picture, he says: and
desires
most vehemently to be known to your ladyships.
PHA. Call him hither, 'tis good groping such a gull.
MORUS. Master Asotus, master Asotus!
ASO. For love's sake, let me go: you see I am call'd to
the ladies.
ARG. Wilt thou forsake me, then?
ASO. Od so! what would you have me do?
MOR. Come hither, master Asotus. — I do ensure your
ladyships, he is a
gentleman of a very worthy desert: and of a most bountiful
nature. — You
must shew and insinuate yourself responsible, and equivalent now
to my
commendment. — Good honours grace him.
ASO. I protest, more then most fair ladies, "I do wish all
variety of
divine pleasures, choice sports, sweet music, rich fare, brave
attire, soft
beds, and silken thoughts, attend these fair beauties". Will it
please
your ladyship to wear this chain of pearl, and this diamond, for
my sake?
ARG. O!
ASO. And you, madam, this jewel and pendants?
ARG. O!
PHA. We know not how to deserve these bounties, out of so
slight merit,
ASOtus.
PHI. No, in faith, but there's my glove for a favour.
PHA. And soon after the revels, I will bestow a garter on
you.
ASO. O lord, ladies! it is more grace then ever I could
have hoped,
but that it pleaseth your ladyships to extend. I protest it is
enough,
that you but take knowledge of my — if your ladyships want
embroidered
gowns, tires of any fashion, rebatues, jewels, or carcanets, any
thing
whatsoever, if you vouchsafe to accept —
CUP. And for it they will help you to shoe-ties, and
devices.
ASO. I cannot utter myself, dear beauties, but; you can
conceive —
ARG. O!
PHA. Sir, we will acknowledge your service, doubt not —
henceforth, you
shall be no more Asotus to us, but our goldfinch, and we your
cages.
ASO. O Venus! madams! how shall I deserve this? if I
were but made
acquainted with Hedon, now, — I'll try: pray you, away.
[TO ARGURION.
MER. How he prays money to go away from him.
ASO. Amorphus, a word with you; here's a watch I would
bestow upon you,
pray you make me known to that gallant.
AMO. That I will, sir. — Monsieur Hedon, I must entreat
you to exchange
knowledge with this gentleman.
HED. 'Tis a thing, next to the water, we expect, I thirst
after, sir.
Good monsieur Asotus.
ASO. Good monsieur Hedon, I would be glad to be loved of
men of your rank
and spirit, I protest. Please you to accept this pair of
bracelets, sir;
they are not worth the bestowing —
MER. O Hercules; how the gentleman purchases, this must
needs bring
ARGurion to a consumption.
HED. Sir, I shall never stand in the merit of such bounty,
I fear.
ASO. O Venus, sir; your acquaintance shall be sufficient.
And if at any
time you need my bill, or my bond —
ARG. O! O!
[SWOONS.
AMO. Help the lady there!
MOR. Gods-dear, Argurion! madam, how do you?
ARG. Sick.
PHA. Have her forth, and give her air.
ASO. I come again straight, ladies.
[EXEUNT ASOTUS, MORUS, AND ARGURION.
MER. Well, I doubt all the physic he has, will scarce
recover her; she's
too far spent.
RE-ENTER ANAIDES WITH GELAIA, PROSAITES, AND COS, WITH THE BOTTLES.
PHI. O here's the Water come; fetch glasses, page.
GEL. Heart of my body, here's a coil, indeed, with your
jealous humours!
nothing but whore and bitch, and all the villainous swaggering
names you
can think on! 'Slid take your bottle, and put it in your guts for
me, I'll
see you pox'd ere I follow you any longer.
ANA. Nay, good punk, sweet rascal; d—n me, if I am
jealous now.
GEL. That's true, indeed, pray let's go.
MOR. What's the matter there?
GEL. 'Slight, he has me upon interrogatories, (nay, my
mother shall know
how you use me,) where I have been? and why I should stay so long?
and how
is't possible? and withal calls meat his pleasure I know not how
many
cockatrices, and things.
MOR. In truth and sadness, these are no good epitaphs
Anaides, to bestow
upon any gentlewoman; and I'll ensure you if I had known you would
have
dealt thus with my daughter, she should never have fancied you so
deeply as
she has done. Go to.
ANA. Why do you hear, mother Moria? Heart!
MOR. Nay, I pray you, sir do not swear.
ANA. Swear! why? 'sblood, I have sworn afore now, I
hope. Both you and
your daughter mistake me. I have not honour'd Arete, that is held
the
worthiest lady in the court, next to Cynthia, with half that
observance and
respect, as I have done her in private, howsoever outwardly I have
carried
myself careless, and negligent. Come you are a foolish punk, and
know not
when you are well employed. Kiss me, come on; do it, I say.
MOR. Nay, indeed I must confess, she is apt to misprision.
But I must
have you leave it, minion.
RE-ENTER ASOTUS.
AMO. How now, Asotus! how does the lady?
ASO. Faith, ill. I have left my page with her, at her
lodging.
HED. O, here's the rarest water that ever was tasted:
fill him some.
PRO. What! has my master a new page?
MER. Yes, a kinsman of the lady Moria's: you must wait
better now, or you are cashiered, Prosaites.
ANA. Come, gallants; you must pardon my foolish humour;
when I am angry,
that any thing crosses me, I grow impatient straight. Here, I
drink to you.
PHI. O that we had five or six bottles more of this liquor!
PHA. Now I commend your judgement, Amorphus: — [KNOCKING
WITHIN.] Who's
that knocks? look, page.
MOR. O, most delicious; a little of this would make
Argurion well.
PHA. O, no, give her no cold, drink by any means.
ANA. 'Sblood, this water is the spirit of wine, I'll be
hang'd else.
RE-ENTER COS WITH ARETE.
COS. Here's the lady Arete, madam.
ARE. What, at your bever, gallants?
MOR. Will't please your ladyship to drink? 'tis of the New
Fountain water.
ARE. Not I, Moria, I thank you. — Gallants, you are for
this night free
to your peculiar delights; Cynthia will have no sports: when she
is
pleased to come forth, you shall have knowledge. In the mean
time, I could
wish you did provide for solemn revels, and
some unlooked for device of wit, to entertain her, against she
should
vouchsafe to grace your pastimes with her presence.
AMO. What say you to a masque?
HED. Nothing better, if the project were new and rare.
ARE. Why, I'll send for Crites, and have his advice: be
you ready in your
endeavours: he shall discharge you of the inventive part.
PHA. But will not your ladyship stay?
ARE. Not now, Phantaste.
[EXIT.
PHI. Let her go, I pray you, good lady Sobriety, I am glad
we are rid of her.
PHA. What a set face the gentlewoman has, as she were
still going to a
sacrifice!
PHI. O, she is the extraction of a dozen of Puritans, for
a look.
MOR. Of all nymphs i' the court, I cannot away with her;
'tis the coarsest
thing!
PHI. I wonder how Cynthia can affect her so above the
rest. Here be they are every way as fair as she, and a thought,
fairer, I trow.
PHA. Ay, and as ingenious and conceited as she.
MOR. Ay, and as politic as she, for all she sets such a
forehead on't.
PHI. Would I were dead, if I would change to be Cynthia.
PHA. Or I.
MOR. Or I.
MOR. And there's her minion, Crites: why his advice more
than Amorphus?
Have I not invention, afore him? Learning, to better that
invention above
him? and infanted with pleasant travel —
ANA. Death, what talk you of his learning? he understands
no more than a
schoolboy; I have put him down myself a thousand times, by this
air, and
yet I never talk'd with him but twice in my life: you never saw
his like.
I could never get him to argue with me but once; and then because
I could
not construe an author I quoted at first sight, he went away, and
laughed
at me. By Hercules, I scorn him, as I do the sodden nymph that
was here
even now; his mistress, Arete: and I love myself for nothing else.
HED. I wonder the fellow does not hang himself, being thus
scorn'd, and
contemn'd of us that are held the most accomplish'd society of
gallants.
MER. By yourselves, none else.
HED. I protest, if I had no music in me, no courtship;
that I were not a
reveller and could dance, or had not those excellent qualities
that give a
man life and perfection, but a mere poor scholar as he is, I think
I should
make some desperate way with myself; whereas now, — would I might
never
breathe more, if I do know that creature in this kingdom, with
whom I would
change.
CUP. This is excellent! Well, I must alter this soon.
MER. Look you do, Cupid. The bottles have wrought, it
seems.
ASO. O, I am sorry the revels are crost. I should have
tickled it soon.
I did never appear till then. 'Slid, I am the neatliest-made
gallant i' the company, and have the best presence; and my dancing
— well
I know what our usher said to me the last time I was at the
school: Would
I might have led Philautia in the measures, an it had been the
gods' will!
I am most worthy, I am sure.
RE-ENTER MORUS.
MORUS. Master, I can tell you news; the Lady kissed me
yonder, and played
with me, and says she loved you once as well as she does me, but
that you
cast her off.
ASO. Peace, my most esteemed page.
MORUS. Yes.
ASO. What luck is this, that our revels are dash'd, now
was I beginning to
glister in the very highway of preferment. An Cynthia had but
seen me
dance a strain, or do but one trick, I had been kept in court, I
should
never have needed to look towards my friends again.
AMO. Contain yourself, you were a fortunate young man, if
you knew your
own good; which I have now projected, and will presently multiply
upon you.
Beauties and valours, your vouchsafed applause to a motion. The
humorous
Cynthia hath, for this night, withdrawn the light of your delight.
PHA. 'Tis true, Amorphus: what may we do to redeem it?
AMO. Redeem that we cannot, but to create a new flame is
in our power.
Here is a gentleman, my scholar, whom, for some private reasons me
specially moving, I am covetous to gratify with title of master in
the
noble and subtile science of courtship: for which grace, he shall
this
night, in court, and in the long gallery, hold his public act, by
open
challenge, to all masters of the mystery whatsoever, to play at
the four
choice and principal weapons thereof, viz., 'the Bare Accost, the
Better
Regard, the Solemn Address,' and 'the Perfect Close'. What say
you?
ALL. Excellent, excellent, Amorphus.
AMO. Well, let us then take our time by the forehead: I
will instantly
have bills drawn, and advanced in every angle of the court. —
Sir, betray
not your too much joy. — Anaides, we must mix this gentleman with
you in
acquaintance, monsieur Asotus.
ANA. I am easily entreated to grace any of your friends,
Amorphus.
ASO. Sir, and his friends shall likewise grace you, sir.
Nay, I begin to
know myself now.
AMO. O, you must continue your bounties.
ASO. Must I? Why, I'll give him this ruby on my finger.
Do you hear sir?
I do heartily wish your acquaintance, and I partly know myself
worthy of
it; please you, sir, to accept this poor ruby in a ring, sir. The
poesy is
of my own device, "Let this blush for me", sir.
ANA. So it must for me too, for I am not asham'd to take
it.
MORUS. Sweet man! By my troth, master, I love you; will
you love me too,
for my aunt's sake? I'll wait well, you shall see. I'll
still here. Would I might never stir, but you are a fine man in
these
clothes; master, shall I have them when you have done with them?
ASO. As for that, Morus, thou shalt see more hereafter; in
the mean time,
by this air, or by this feather, I'll do as much for thee, as any
gallant
shall do for his page, whatsoever, in this court, corner of the
world, or
kingdom.
[EXEUNT ALL BUT THE PAGES.
MER. I wonder this gentleman should affect to keep a fool:
methinks he
makes sport enough with himself.
CUP. Well, Prosaites, 'twere good you did wait closer.
PRO. Ay, I'll look to it; 'tis time.
COS. The revels would have been most sumptuous to-night,
if they had gone
forward.
[EXIT.
MER. They must needs, when all the choicest singularities
of the court
were up in pantofles; ne'er a one of them but was able to make a
whole show
of itself.
ASO. [WITHIN.] Sirrah, a torch, a torch!
PRO. O, what a call is there! I will have a canzonet made, with
nothing
in it but sirrah; and the burthen shall be, I come.
[EXIT.
MER. How now, Cupid, how do you like this change?
CUP. Faith, the thread of my device is crack'd, I may go
sleep till the
revelling music awake me.
MER. And then, too, Cupid, without you had prevented the
fountain. Alas,
poor god, that remembers not self-love to be proof against the
violence of
his quiver! Well, I have a plot against these prizers, for which
I must
presently find out Crites, and with his assistance pursue it to a
high
strain of laughter, or Mercury hath lost of his metal.
[EXEUNT.
———————————————————————
SCENE I. — THE SAME.
ENTER MERCURY AND CRITES.
MER. It is resolved on, Crites, you must do it.
CRI. The grace divinest Mercury hath done me,
In this vouchsafed discovery of himself,
Binds my observance in the utmost term
Of satisfaction to his godly will:
Though I profess, without the affectation
Of an enforced and form'd austerity,
I could be willing to enjoy no place
With so unequal natures.
MER. We believe it.
But for our sake, and to inflict just pains
On their prodigious follies, aid us now:
No man is presently made bad with ill.
And good men, like the sea, should still maintain
Their noble taste, in midst of all fresh humours
That flow about them, to corrupt their streams,
Bearing no season, much less salt of goodness.
It is our purpose, Crites, to correct,
And punish, with our laughter, this night's sport,
Which our court-dors so heartily intend:
And by that worthy scorn, to make them know
How far beneath the dignity of man
Their serious and most practised actions are.
CRI. Ay, but though Mercury can warrant out
His undertakings, and make all things good,
Out of the powers of his divinity,
Th' offence will be return'd with weight on me,
That am a creature so despised and poor;
When the whole court shall take itself abused
By our ironical confederacy.
MER. You are deceived. The better race in court,
That have the true nobility call'd virtue,
Will apprehend it, as a grateful right
Done to their separate merit; and approve
The fit rebuke of so ridiculous heads,
Who, with their apish customs and forced garbs,
Would bring the name of courtier in contempt,
Did it not live unblemish'd in some few,
Whom equal Jove hath loved, and Phoebus form'd
Of better metal, and in better mould.
CRI. Well, since my leader-on is Mercury,
I shall not fear to follow. If I fail,
My proper virtue shall be my relief,
That follow'd such a cause, and such a chief.
[EXEUNT.
SCENE II. — ANOTHER ROOM IN THE SAME.
ENTER ASOTUS AND AMORPHUS.
ASO. No more, if you love me, good master; you are
incompatible to live
withal: send me for the ladies!
AMO. Nay, but intend me.
ASO. Fear me not; I warrant you, sir.
AMO. Render not yourself a refractory on the sudden. I
can allow, well,
you should repute highly, heartily, and to the most, of your own
endowments; it gives you forth to the world the more assured: but
with
reservation of an eye, to be always turn'd dutifully back upon
your teacher.
ASO. Nay, good sir, leave it to me. Trust me with
trussing all the points
of this action, I pray. 'Slid, I hope we shall find wit to
perform the
science as well as another.
AMO. I confess you to be of an apted and docible humour.
Yet there are
certain punctilios, or (as I may more nakedly insinuate them)
certain
intrinsecate strokes and wards, to which your activity is not yet
amounted,
as your gentle dor in colours. For supposition, your mistress
appears here
in prize, ribanded with green and yellow; now, it is the part of
every
obsequious servant, to be sure to have daily about him copy and
variety of
colours, to be presently answerable to any hourly or half-hourly
change in
his mistress's revolution —
ASO. I know it, sir.
AMO. Give leave, I pray you — which, if your antagonist,
or player
against you, shall ignorantly be without, and yourself can
produce, you
give him the dor.
ASO. Ay, ay, sir.
AMO. Or, if you can possess your opposite, that the green
your mistress
wears, is her rejoicing or exultation in his service; the yellow,
suspicion
of his truth, from her height of affection: and that he, greenly
credulous, shall withdraw thus, in private, and from the abundance
of his
pocket (to displace her jealous conceit) steal into his hat the
colour,
whose blueness doth express trueness, she being not so, nor so
affected;
you give him the dor.
ASO. Do not I know it, sir?
AMO. Nay, good — swell not above your understanding.
There is yet a
third dor in colours.
ASO. I know it too, I know it.
AMO. Do you know it too? what is it? make good your
knowledge.
ASO. Why it is — no matter for that.
AMO. Do it, on pain of the dor.
ASO. Why; what is't, say you?
AMO. Lo, you have given yourself the dor. But I will
remonstrate to you
the third dor, which is not, as the two former dors, indicative,
but
deliberative: as how? as thus. Your rival is, with a dutiful
and serious
care, lying in his bed, meditating how to observe his mistress,
dispatcheth
his lacquey to the chamber early, to know what her colours are for
the day,
with purpose to apply his wear that day accordingly: you lay wait
before,
preoccupy the chamber-maid, corrupt her to return false colours;
he follows
the fallacy, comes out accoutred to his believed instructions; your
mistress smiles, and you give him the dor.
ASO. Why, so I told you, sir, I knew it.
AMO. Told me! It is a strange outrecuidance, your humour
too much redoundeth.
ASO. Why, sir, what, do you think you know more?
AMO. I know that a cook may as soon and properly be said
to smell well, as
you to be wise. I know these are most clear and clean strokes.
But then,
you have your passages and imbrocatas in courtship; as the bitter
bob in
wit; the reverse in face or wry-mouth; and these more subtile and
secure
offenders. I will example unto you: Your opponent makes entry as
you are
engaged with your mistress. You seeing him, close in her ear with
this
whisper, "Here comes your baboon, disgrace him"; and withal
stepping off,
fall on his bosom, and turning to her, politely, aloud say, Lady,
regard
this noble gentleman, a man rarely parted, second to none in this
court;
and then, stooping over his shoulder, your hand on his breast,
your mouth
on his backside, you give him the reverse stroke, with this sanna,
or
stork's-bill, which makes up your wit's bob most bitter.
ASO. Nay, for heaven's sake, teach me no more. I know all
as well —
'Slid, if I did not, why was I nominated? why did you choose me?
why did
the ladies prick out me? I am sure there were other gallants.
But me of
all the rest! By that light, and, as I am a courtier, would I
might never
stir, but 'tis strange. Would to the lord the ladies would come
once!
ENTER MORPHIDES.
MORP. Signior, the gallants and ladies are at hand. Are
you ready, sir?
AMO. Instantly. Go, accomplish your attire: [EXIT
ASOTUS.] Cousin
Morphides, assist me to make good the door with your officious
tyranny.
CITIZEN. [WITHIN.] By your leave, my masters there, pray
you let's come by.
PAGES. [WITHIN.] You by! why should you come by more
than we?
CITIZEN'S WIFE. [WITHIN.] Why, sir! because he is my
brother that plays
the prizes.
MORP. Your brother!
CITIZEN. [WITHIN.] Ay, her brother, sir, and we must come
in.
TAILOR. [WITHIN.] Why, what are you?
CITIZEN. [WITHIN.] I am her husband, sir.
TAILOR. [WITHIN.] Then thrust forward your head.
AMO. What tumult is there?
MORP. Who's there? bear back there! Stand from the door!
AMO. Enter none but the ladies and their hang-byes. —
ENTER PHANTASTE, PHILAUTIA, ARGURION, MORIA, HEDON,
AND ANAIDES, INTRODUCING TWO LADIES.
Welcome beauties, and your kind shadows.
HED. This country lady, my friend, good signior Amorphus.
ANA. And my cockatrice here.
AMO. She is welcome.
THE CITIZEN, AND HIS WIFE, PAGES, ETC., APPEAR AT THE DOOR.
MORP. Knock those same pages there; and, goodman coxcomb
the citizen, who
would you speak withal?
WIFE. My brother.
AMO. With whom? your brother!
MORP. Who is your brother?
WIFE. Master Asotus.
AMO. Master Asotus! is he your brother? he is taken up
with great
persons; he is not to know you to-night.
RE-ENTER ASOTUS HASTILY.
ASO. O Jove, master! an there come e'er a citizen
gentlewoman in my name,
let her have entrance, I pray you: it is my sister.
WIFE. Brother!
CIT. [THRUSTING IN.] Brother, master Asotus!
ASO. Who's there?
WIFE. 'Tis I, brother.
ASO. Gods me, there she is! good master, intrude her.
MORP. Make place! bear back there!
ENTER CITIZEN'S WIFE.
AMO. Knock that simple fellow there.
WIFE. Nay, good sir, it is my husband.
MORP. The simpler fellow he. — Away! back with your
head, sir!
[PUSHES THE CITIZEN BACK.
ASO. Brother, you must pardon your non-entry: husbands
are not allow'd
here, in truth. I'll come home soon with my sister: pray you
meet us with
a lantern, brother. Be merry, sister: I shall make you laugh
anon.
[EXIT.
PHA. Your prizer is not ready, Amorphus.
AMO. Apprehend your places; he shall be soon, and at all
points.
ANA. Is there any body come to answer him? shall we have
any sport?
AMO. Sport of importance; howsoever, give me the gloves.
HED. Gloves! why gloves, signior?
PHI. What's the ceremony?
AMO. [DISTRIBUTING GLOVES.] Beside their received
fitness, at all prizes,
they are here properly accommodate to the nuptials of my scholar's
'haviour
to the lady Courtship. Please you apparel your hands. Madam
Phantaste,
madam Philautia, guardian, signior Hedon, signior Anaides,
gentlemen all,
ladies.
ALL. Thanks, good Amorphus.
AMO. I will now call forth my provost, and present him.
[EXIT.
ANA. Heart! why should not we be masters as well as he?
HED. That's true, and play our masters' prizes as well as
the t'other?
MOR. In sadness, for using your court-weapons, methinks
you may.
PHA. Nay, but why should not we ladies play our prizes, I
pray? I see no
reason but we should take them down at their own weapons.
PHI. Troth, and so we may, if we handle them well.
WIFE. Ay, indeed, forsooth, madam, if 'twere in the city, we
would think
foul scorn but we would, forsooth.
PHA. Pray you, what should we call your name?
WIFE. My name is Downfall.
HED. Good mistress Downfall! I am sorry your husband
could not get in.
WIFE. 'Tis no matter for him, sir.
ANA. No, no, she has the more liberty for herself.
[A FLOURISH.
PHA. Peace, peace! they come.
RE-ENTER AMORPHUS, INTRODUCING ASOTUS IN A FULL-DRESS SUIT.
AMO. So, keep up your ruff; the tincture of your neck is
not all so pure,
but it will ask it. Maintain your sprig upright; your cloke on
your
half-shoulder falling; so: I will read your bill, advance it, and
present
you. — Silence!
"Be it known to all that profess courtship, by these presents
(from the
white satin reveller, to the cloth of tissue and bodkin) that we,
Ulysses-Polytropus-Amorphus, master of the noble and subtile
science of
courtship, do give leave and licence to our provost,
Acolastus-Polypragmon-Asotus, to play his master's prize, against
all
masters whatsoever, in this subtile mystery, at these four, the
choice and
most cunning weapons of court-compliment, viz. the 'bare accost';
the
'better regard'; the 'solemn address'; and the 'perfect close'.
These are
therefore to give notice to all comers, that he, the said
Acolastus-Polypragmon-Asotus, is here present (by the help of his
mercer,
tailor, milliner, sempster, and so forth) at his designed hour, in
this
fair gallery, the present day of this present month, to perform
and do his
uttermost for the achievement and bearing away of the prizes,
which are
these: viz. For the Bare Accost, two wall-eyes in a face forced:
for the
Better Regard, a face favourably simpering, with a fan waving:
for the
Solemn Address, two lips wagging, and never a wise word: for the
Perfect
Close, a wring by the hand, with a banquet in a corner. And
Phoebus save
Cynthia!"
Appeareth no man yet, to answer the prizer? no voice? — Music,
give them
their summons.
[MUSIC.
PHA. The solemnity of this is excellent.
AMO. Silence! Well, I perceive your name is their terror,
and keepeth
them back.
ASO. I'faith, master, let's go; no body comes. 'Victus,
victa, victum;
victi, victae, victi —' let's be retrograde.
AMO. Stay. That were dispunct to the ladies. Rather
ourself shall be
your encounter. Take your state up to the wall; and, lady,
[LEADING MORIA
TO THE STATE.] may we implore you to stand forth, as first term or
bound to
our courtship.
HED. 'Fore heaven, 'twill shew rarely.
AMO. Sound a charge.
[A CHARGE.
ANA. A pox on't! Your vulgar will count this fabulous and
impudent now:
by that candle, they'll never conceit it.
[THEY ACT THEIR ACCOST SEVERALLY TO MORIA.
PHA. Excellent well! admirable!
PHI. Peace!
HED. Most fashionably, believe it.
PHI. O, he is a well-spoken gentleman.
PHA. Now the other.
PHI. Very good.
HED. For a scholar, Honour.
ANA. O, 'tis too Dutch. He reels too much.
[A FLOURISH.
HED. This weapon is done.
AMO. No, we have our two bouts at every weapon; expect.
CRI. [WITHIN.] Where be these gallants, and their brave
prizer here?
MORP. Who's there? bear back; keep the door.
ENTER CRITES, INTRODUCING MERCURY FANTASTICALLY DRESSED.
AMO. What are you, sir?
CRI. By your license, grand-master. — Come forward, sir.
[TO MERCURY.
ANA. Heart! who let in that rag there amongst us? Put
him out, an
impecunious creature.
HED. Out with him.
MORP. Come, sir.
AMO. You must be retrograde.
CRI. Soft, sir, I am truchman, and do flourish before this
monsieur, or
French-behaved gentleman, here; who is drawn hither by report of
your
chartels, advanced in court, to prove his fortune with your
prizer, so he
may have fair play shewn him, and the liberty to choose his
stickler.
AMO. Is he a master?
CRI. That, sir, he has to shew here; and confirmed under
the hands of the
most skilful and cunning complimentaries alive: Please you read,
sir.
[GIVES HIM A CERTIFICATE.
AMO. What shall we do?
ANA. Death! disgrace this fellow in the black stuff,
whatever you do.
AMO. Why, but he comes with the stranger.
HED. That's no matter: he is our own countryman.
ANA. Ay, and he is a scholar besides. You may disgrace
him here with
authority.
AMO. Well, see these first.
ASO. Now shall I be observed by yon scholar, till I sweat
again; I would
to Jove it were over.
CRI. [TO MERCURY.] Sir, this is the wight of worth, that
dares you to the
encounter. A gentleman of so pleasing and ridiculous a carriage;
as, even
standing, carries meat in the mouth, you see; and, I assure you,
although
no bred courtling, yet a most particular man, of goodly havings,
well-fashion'd 'haviour, and of as hardened and excellent a bark
as the
most naturally qualified amongst them, inform'd, reform'd, and
transform'd,
from his original citycism; by this elixir, or mere magazine of
man. And,
for your spectators, you behold them what they are: the most
choice
particulars in court: this tells tales well; this provides
coaches; this
repeats jests; this presents gifts; this holds up the arras; this
takes
down from horse; this protests by this light; this swears by that
candle;
this delighteth; this adoreth: yet all but three men. Then, for
your
ladies, the most proud, witty creature, all things apprehending,
nothing
understanding, perpetually laughing, curious maintainers of fools,
mercers,
and minstrels, costly to be kept, miserably keeping, all
disdaining but
their painter and apothecary, 'twixt whom and them there is this
reciprock
commerce, their beauties maintain their painters, and their
painters their
beauties.
MER. Sir, you have plaid the painter yourself, and limn'd
them to the
life. I desire to deserve before them.
AMO. [RETURNING THE CERTIFICATE.] This is authentic. We
must resolve to
entertain the monsieur, howsoever we neglect him.
HED. Come, let's all go together, and salute him.
ANA. Content, and not look on the other.
AMO. Well devised; and a most punishing disgrace.
HED. Oh.
AMO. Monsieur, we must not so much betray ourselves to
discourtship, as to
suffer you to be longer unsaluted: please you to use the state
ordain'd
for the opponent; in which nature, without envy, we receive you.
HED. And embrace you.
ANA. And commend us to you, sir.
PHI. Believe it, he is a man of excellent silence.
PHA. He keeps all his wit for action.
ANA. This hath discountenanced our scholaris, most richly.
HED. Out of all emphasis. The monsieur sees we regard him
not.
AMO. Hold on; make it known how bitter a thing it is not
to be look'd on
in court.
HED. 'Slud, will he call him to him yet! Does not
monsieur perceive our
disgrace?
ANA. Heart! he is a fool, I see. We have done ourselves
wrong to grace him.
HED. 'Slight, what an ass was I to embrace him!
CRI. Illustrious and fearful judges —
HED. Turn away, turn away.
CRI. It is the suit of the strange opponent (to whom you
ought not to turn
your tails, and whose noses I must follow) that he may have the
justice,
before he encounter his respected adversary, to see some light
stroke of
his play, commenced with some other.
HED. Answer not him, but the stranger: we will not
believe him.
AMO. I will demand him, myself.
CRI. O dreadful disgrace, if a man were so foolish to feel
it.
AMO. Is it your suit, monsieur, to see some prelude of my
scholar? Now,
sure the monsieur wants language —
HED. And take upon him to be one of the accomplished!
'Slight, that's a
good jest; would we could take him with that nullity. — "Non
sapete voi
parlar' Italiano?"
ANA. 'Sfoot, the carp has no tongue.
CRI. Signior, in courtship, you are to bid your abettors
forbear, and
satisfy the monsieur's request.
AMO. Well, I will strike him more silent with admiration,
and terrify his
daring hither. He shall behold my own play with my scholar.
Lady, with
the touch of your white hand, let me reinstate you. [LEADS MORIA
BACK TO
THE STATE.] Provost, {To ASOTUS.] begin to me at the "Bare
Accost". [A
CHARGE.] Now, for the honour of my discipline.
HED. Signior Amorphus, reflect, reflect; what means he by
that mouthed wave?
CRI. He is in some distaste of your fellow disciple.
MER. Signior, your scholar might have played well still,
if he could have
kept his seat longer; I have enough of him, now. He is a mere
piece of
glass, I see through him by this time.
AMO. You come not to give us the scorn, monsieur?
MER. Nor to be frighted with a face, signior. I have seen
the lions. You
must pardon me. I shall be loth to hazard a reputation with one
that has
not a reputation to lose.
AMO. How!
CRI. Meaning your pupil, sir.
ANA. This is that black devil there.
AMO. You do offer a strange affront, monsieur.
CRI. Sir, he shall yield you all the honour of a competent
adversary, if
you please to undertake him.
MER. I am prest for the encounter.
AMO. Me! challenge me!
ASO. What, my master, sir! 'Slight, monsieur, meddle with
me, do you
hear: but do not meddle with my master.
MER. Peace, good squib, go out.
CRI. And stink, he bids you.
ASO. Master!
AMO. Silence! I do accept him. Sit you down and observe.
Me! he never
profest a thing at more charger. — Prepare yourself sir. —
Challenge me!
I will prosecute what disgrace my hatred can dictate to me.
CRI. How tender a traveller's spleen is! Comparison to
men that deserve
least, is ever most offensive.
AMO. You are instructed in our chartel, and know our
weapons?
MER. I appear not without their notice, sir.
ASO. But must I lose the prizes, master?
AMO. I will win them for you; be patient. — Lady, [TO
MORIA.] vouchsafe
the tenure of this ensign. — Who shall be your stickler?
MER. Behold him.
[POINTS TO CRITES.
AMO. I would not wish you a weaker. — Sound, musics. — I
provoke you at
the Bare Accost.
[A CHARGE.
PHA. Excellent comely!
CRI. And worthily studied. This is the exalted foretop.
HED. O, his leg was too much produced.
ANA. And his hat was carried scurvily.
PHI. Peace; let's see the monsieur's Accost: Rare!
PHA. Sprightly and short.
ANA. True, it is the French courteau: he lacks but to
have his nose slit.
HED. He does hop. He does bound too much.
[A FLOURISH.
AMO. The second bout, to conclude this weapon.
[A CHARGE.
PHA. Good, believe it!
PHI. An excellent offer!
CRI. This is called the solemn band-string.
HED. Foh, that cringe was not put home.
ANA. He makes a face like a stabb'd Lucrece.
ASO. Well, he would needs take it upon him, but would I
had done it for
all this. He makes me sit still here, like a baboon as I am.
CRI. Making villainous faces.
PHI. See, the French prepares it richly.
CRI. Ay, this is yelped the Serious Trifle.
ANA. 'Slud, 'tis the horse-start out o' the brown study.
CRI. Rather the bird-eyed stroke, sir. Your observance is
too blunt, sir.
[A FLOURISH.
AMO. Judges, award the prize. Take breath, sir. This
bout hath been
laborious.
ASO. And yet your critic, or your besongno, will think
these things
foppery, and easy, now!
CRI. Or rather mere lunacy. For would any reasonable
creature make these
his serious studies and perfections, much less, only live to these
ends?
to be the false pleasure of a few, the true love of none, and the
just
laughter of all?
HED. We must prefer the monsieur, we courtiers must be
partial.
ANA. Speak, guardian. Name the prize, at the Bare Accost.
MOR. A pair of wall-eyes in a face forced.
ANA. Give the monsieur. Amorphus hath lost his eyes.
AMO. I! Is the palate of your judgment down? Gentles, I
do appeal.
ASO. Yes, master, to me: the judges be fools.
ANA. How now, sir! tie up your tongue, mungrel. He
cannot appeal.
ASO. Say, you sir?
ANA. Sit you still, sir.
ASO. Why, so I do; do not I, I pray you?
MER. Remercie, madame, and these honourable censors.
AMO. Well, to the second weapon, the "Better Regard". I
will encounter
you better. Attempt.
HED. Sweet Honour.
PHI. What says my good Ambition?
HED. Which take you at this next weapon? I lay a
Discretion with you on
AMOrphus's head.
PHI. Why, I take the French-behaved gentleman.
HED. 'Tis done, a Discretion.
CRI. A Discretion! A pretty court-wager! Would any
discreet person
hazard his wit so?
PHA. I'll lay a Discretion with you, Anaides.
ANA. Hang 'em, I'll not venture a doit of Discretion on
either of their heads.
CRI. No, he should venture all then.
ANA. I like none of their plays.
[A CHARGE.
HED. See, see! this is strange play!
ANA. 'Tis too full of uncertain motion. He hobbles too
much.
CRI. 'Tis call'd your court-staggers, sir.
HED. That same fellow talks so now he has a place!
ANA. Hang him! neglect him.
MER. Your good ladyship's affectioned.
WIFE. Ods so! they speak at this weapon, brother.
ASO. They must do so, sister; how should it be the Better
Regard, else?
PHA. Methinks he did not this respectively enough.
PHI. Why, the monsieur but dallies with him.
HED. Dallies! 'Slight, see! he'll put him to't in
earnest. — Well done,
AMOrphus!
ANA. That puff was good indeed.
CRI. Ods me! this is desperate play: he hits himself o'
the shins.
HED. An he make this good through, he carries it, I
warrant him.
CRI. Indeed he displays his feet rarely.
HED. See, see! he does the respective leer damnably well.
AMO. The true idolater of your beauties shall never pass
their deities
unadored: I rest your poor knight.
HED. See, now the oblique leer, or the Janus: he
satisfies all with that
aspect most nobly.
[A FLOURISH.
CRI. And most terribly he comes off; like your rodomontado.
PHA. How like you this play, Anaides?
ANA. Good play; but 'tis too rough and boisterous.
AMO. I will second it with a stroke easier, wherein I will
prove his language.
[A CHARGE.
ANA. This is filthy, and grave, now.
HED. O, 'tis cool and wary play. We must not disgrace our
own camerade
too much.
AMO. "Signora, ho tanto obligo per le favore resciuto da
lei; che
veramente desidero con tutto il core, a remunerarla in parte: e
sicurative, signora mea cara, che io sera sempre pronto a
servirla, e
honorarla. Bascio le mane de vo' signoria."
CRI. The Venetian dop this.
PHA. Most unexpectedly excellent! The French goes down
certain.
ASO. As buckets are put down into a well;
Or as a school-boy —
CRI. Truss up your simile, jack-daw, and observe.
HED. Now the monsieur is moved.
ANA. Bo-peep!
HED. O, most antick.
CRI. The French quirk, this sir.
ANA. Heart, he will over-run her.
MER. "Madamoyselle, Je voudroy que pouvoy monstrer mon
affection, mais je
suis tant malhereuse, ci froid, ci layd, ci — Je ne scay qui de
dire —
excuse moi, Je suis tout votre."
[A FLOURISH.
PHI. O brave and spirited! he's a right Jovialist.
PHA. No, no: Amorphus's gravity outweighs it.
CRI. And yet your lady, or your feather, would outweigh
both.
ANA. What's the prize, lady, at this Better Regard?
MOR. A face favourably simpering, and a waving.
ANA. They have done doubtfully. Divide. Give the
favourable face to the
signior, and the light wave to the monsieur.
AMO. You become the simper well, lady.
MER. And the wag better.
AMO. Now, to our 'Solemn Address'. Please the well-graced
Philautia to
relieve the lady sentinel; she hath stood long.
PHI. With all my heart; come, guardian, resign your place.
[MORIA COMES FROM THE STATE.
AMO. Monsieur, furnish yourself with what solemnity of
ornament you think
fit for this third weapon; at which you are to shew all the
cunning of
stroke your devotion can possibly devise.
MER. Let me alone, sir. I'll sufficiently decipher your
amorous
solemnities. — Crites, have patience. See, if I hit not all
their practic
observance, with which they lime twigs to catch their fantastic
lady-birds.
CRI. Ay, but you should do more charitably to do it more
openly, that they
might discover themselves mock'd in these monstrous affections.
[A CHARGE.
MER. Lackey, where's the tailor?
ENTER TAILOR, BARBER, PERFUMER, MILLINER, JEWELLER, AND
FEATHER-MAKER.
TAI. Here, sir.
HED. See, they have their tailor, barber, perfumer,
milliner, jeweller,
feather-maker, all in common!
[THEY MAKE THEMSELVES READY ON THE STAGE.
ANA. Ay, this is pretty.
AMO. Here is a hair too much, take it off. Where are thy
mullets?
MER. Is this pink of equal proportion to this cut,
standing off this
distance from it?
TAI. That it is, sir.
MER. Is it so, sir? You impudent poltroon, you slave, you
list, you
shreds, you —
[BEATS THE TAILOR.
HED. Excellent! This was the best yet.
ANA. Why, we must use our tailors thus: this is our true
magnanimity.
MER. Come, go to, put on; we must bear with you for the
times' sake.
AMO. Is the perfume rich in this jerkin?
PER. Taste, smell; I assure you, sir, pure benjamin, the only
spirited
scent that ever awaked a Neapolitan nostril. You would wish
yourself all
nose for the love on't. I frotted a jerkin for a new-revenued
gentleman
yielded me three-score crowns but this morning, and the same
titillation.
AMO. I savour no sampsuchine in it.
PER. I am a Nulli-fidian, if there be not three-thirds of a
scruple more
of sampsuchinum in this confection, than ever I put in any. I'll
tell you
all the ingredients, sir.
AMO. You shall be simple to discover your simples.
PER. Simple! why, sir? What reck I to whom I discover? I have
it in
musk, civet, amber, Phoenicobalanus, the decoction of turmerick,
sesana,
nard, spikenard, calamus odoratus, stacte, opobalsamum, amomum,
storax,
ladanum, aspalathum, opoponax, oenanthe. And what of all these
now? what are you the better? Tut, it is the sorting, and the
dividing, and the
mixing, and the tempering, and the searching, and the decocting,
that makes
the fumigation and the suffumigation.
AMO. Well, indue me with it.
PER. I will, sir.
HED. An excellent confection.
CRI. And most worthy a true voluptuary, Jove! what a coil
these
musk-worms take to purchase another's delight? for themselves,
who bear
the odours, have ever the least sense of them. Yet I do like
better the
prodigality of jewels and clothes, whereof one passeth to a man's
heirs;
the other at least wears out time. This presently expires, and,
without
continual riot in reparation, is lost: which whoso strives to
keep, it is
one special argument to me, that, affecting to smell better than
other men,
he doth indeed smell far worse.
MER. I know you will say, it sits well, sir.
TAI. Good faith, if it do not, sir, let your mistress be judge.
MER. By heaven, if my mistress do not like it, I'll make
no more
conscience to undo thee, than to undo an oyster.
TAI. Believe it, there's ne'er a mistress in the world can
mislike it.
MER. No, not goodwife tailor, your mistress; that has only
the judgment to
heat your pressing-tool. But for a court-mistress that studies
these
decorums, and knows the proportion of every cut to a hair, knows
why such a
colour is cut upon such a colour, and when a satin is cut upon six
taffataes, will look that we should dive into the depth of the cut
— Give
me my scarf. Shew some ribands, sirrah. Have you the feather?
FEAT. Ay, sir.
MER. Have you the jewel?
JEW. Yes, sir.
MER. What must I give for the hire on't?
JEW. You shall give me six crowns, sir.
MER. Six crowns! By heaven, 'twere a good deed to borrow
it of thee to
shew, and never let thee have it again.
JEW. I hope your worship will not do so, sir.
MER. By Jove, sir, there be such tricks stirring, I can
tell you, and
worthily too. Extorting knaves, that live by these
court-decorums, and yet
— What's your jewel worth, I pray?
JEW. A hundred crowns, sir.
MER. A hundred crowns, and six for the loan on't an hour!
what's that in
the hundred for the year? These impostors would not be hang'd!
Your thief
is not comparable to them, by Hercules. Well, put it in, and the
feather;
you will have it and you shall, and the pox give you good on't!
AMO. Give me my confects, my moscadini, and place those
colours in my hat.
MER. These are Bolognian ribands, I warrant you.
MIL. In truth, sir, if they be not right Granado silk —
MER. A pox on you, you'll all say so.
MIL. You give me not a penny, sir.
MER. Come, sir, perfume my devant;
"May it ascend, like solemn sacrifice,
Into the nostrils of the Queen of Love!"
HED. Your French ceremonies are the best.
ANA. Monsieur, signior, your Solemn Address is too long;
the ladies long
to have you come on.
AMO. Soft, sir, our coming on is not so easily prepared.
Signior Fig!
PER. Ay, sir.
AMO. Can you help my complexion, here?
PER. O yes, sir, I have an excellent mineral fucus for the
purpose. The
gloves are right, sir; you shall bury them in a muck-hill, a
draught, seven
years, and take them out and wash them, they shall still retain
their first
scent, true Spanish. There's ambre in the umbre.
MER. Your price, sweet Fig?
PER. Give me what you will, sir; the signior pays me two crowns a
pair;
you shall give me your love, sir.
MER. My love! with a pox to you, goodman Sassafras.
PER. I come, sir. There's an excellent diapasm in a chain, too,
if you
like it.
AMO. Stay, what are the ingredients to your fucus?
PER. Nought but sublimate and crude mercury, sir, well prepared
and
dulcified, and the jaw-bones of a sow, burnt, beaten, and searced.
AMO. I approve it. Lay it on.
MER. I'll have your chain of pomander, sirrah; what's your
price?
PER. We'll agree, monsieur; I'll assure you it was both decocted
and dried
where no sun came, and kept in an onyx ever since it was balled.
MER. Come, invert my mustachio, and we have done.
AMO. 'Tis good.
BAR. Hold still, I pray you, sir.
PER. Nay, the fucus is exorbitant, sir.
MER. Death, dost thou burn me, harlot!
BAR. I beseech you, sir.
MER. Beggar, varlet, poltroon.
[BEATS HIM.
HED. Excellent, excellent!
ANA. Your French beat is the most natural beat of the
world.
ASO. O that I had played at this weapon.
[A CHARGE.
PHA. Peace, now they come on; the second part.
AMO. "Madam, your beauties being so attractive, I muse you
are left thus
alone."
PHI. "Better be alone, sir, than ill accompanied."
AMO. "Nought can be ill, lady, that can come near your
goodness."
MER. "Sweet madam, on what part of you soever a man casts
his eye, he
meets with perfection; you are the lively image of Venus
throughout; all
the graces smile in your cheeks; your beauty nourishes as well as
delights;
you have a tongue steeped in honey, and a breath like a panther;
your
breasts and forehead are whiter than goats' milk, or May blossoms;
a cloud
is not so soft as your skin —"
HED. Well strook, monsieur! He charges like a Frenchman
indeed, thick and
hotly.
MER. "Your cheeks are Cupid's baths, wherein he uses to
steep himself in
milk and nectar: he does light all his torches at your eyes, and
instructs
you how to shoot and wound with their beams. Yet I love nothing
in you
MORe than your innocence; you retain so native a
simplicity, so unblamed a
behaviour! Methinks, with such a love, I should find no head, nor
foot of
my pleasure: you are the very spirit of a lady."
ANA. Fair play, monsieur, you are too hot on the quarry;
give your
competitor audience.
AMO. "Lady, how stirring soever the monsieur's tongue is,
he will lie by
your side more dull than your eunuch."
ANA. A good stroke; that mouth was excellently put over.
AMO. "You are fair, lady —"
CRI. You offer foul, signior, to close; keep your
distance; for all your
bravo rampant here.
AMO. "I say you are fair, lady, let your choice be fit, as
you are fair."
MER. I say ladies do never believe they are fair, till
some fool begins to
doat upon them."
PHI. You play too rough, gentlemen.
AMO. "Your frenchified fool is your only fool, lady: I do
yield to this
honourable monsieur in all civil and humane courtesy."
[A FLOURISH.
MER. Buz!
ANA. Admirable. Give him the prize, give him the prize:
that mouth again
was most courtly hit, and rare.
AMO. I knew I should pass upon him with the bitter bob.
HED. O, but the reverse was singular.
PHA. It was most subtile, Amorphus.
ASO. If I had done't, it should have been better.
MER. How heartily they applaud this, Crites!
CRI. You suffer them too long.
MER. I'll take off their edge instantly.
ANA. Name the prize, at the 'Solemn Address'.
PHI. Two lips wagging.
CRI. And never a wise word, I take it.
ANA. Give to Amorphus. And, upon him again; let him not
draw free breath.
AMO. Thanks, fair deliverer, and my honourable judges.
Madam Phantaste,
you are our worthy object at this next weapon.
PHA. Most covetingly ready, Amorphus.
[SHE TAKES THE STATE INSTEAD OF PHILAUTIA.
HED. Your monsieur is crest-fallen.
ANA. So are most of them once a year.
AMO. You will see, I shall now give him the gentle Dor
presently, he
forgetting to shift the colours, which are now changed with
alteration of
the mistress. At your last weapon, sir. 'The Perfect Close.' Set
forward. [A CHARGE.] Intend your approach, monsieur.
MER. 'Tis yours, signior.
AMO. With your example, sir.
MER. Not I, sir.
AMO. It is your right.
MER. By no possible means.
AMO. You have the way.
MER. As I am noble —
AMO. As I am virtuous —
MER. Pardon me, sir.
AMO. I will die first.
MER. You are a tyrant in courtesy.
AMO. He is removed. — [STAYS MERCURY ON HIS MOVING.] —
Judges, bear witness.
MER. What of that, sir?
AMO. You are removed, sir.
MER. Well.
AMO. I challenge you; you have received the Dor. Give me
the prize.
MER. Soft, sir. How, the Dor?
AMO. The common mistress, you see, is changed.
MER. Right, sir.
AMO. And you have still in your hat the former colours.
MER. You lie, sir, I have none: I have pulled them out.
I meant to play
discoloured.
[A FLOURISH.
CRI. The Dor, the Dor, the Dor, the Dor, the Dor, the
palpable Dor!
ANA. Heart of my blood, Amorphus, what have you done?
stuck a disgrace
upon us all, and at your last weapon!
ASO. I could have done no more.
HED. By heaven, it was most unfortunate luck.
ANA. Luck! by that candle, it was mere rashness, and
oversight;
would any man have ventured to play so open, and forsake his ward?
D—n
me, if he have not eternally undone himself in court, and
discountenanced
us that were his main countenance, by it.
AMO. Forgive it now: it was the solecism of my stars.
CRI. The wring by the hand, and the banquet, is ours.
MER. O, here's a lady feels like a wench of the first
year; you would
think her hand did melt in your touch; and the bones of her
fingers ran out
at length when you prest 'em, they are so gently delicate! He
that had the
grace to print a kiss on these lips, should taste wine and
rose-leaves. O,
she kisses as close as a cockle. Let's take them down, as deep as
our
hearts, wench, till our very souls mix. Adieu, signior: good
faith I
shall drink to you at supper, sir.
ANA. Stay, monsieur. Who awards you the prize?
CRI. Why, his proper merit, sir; you see he has played
down your grand
garb-master, here.
ANA. That's not in your logic to determine, sir: you are
no courtier.
This is none of your seven or nine beggarly sciences, but a
certain mystery
above them, wherein we that have skill must pronounce, and not
such fresh
men as you are.
CRI. Indeed, I must declare myself to you no profest
courtling; nor to
have any excellent stroke at your subtile weapons; yet if you
please, I
dare venture a hit with you, or your fellow, sir Dagonet, here.
ANA. With me!
CRI. Yes, sir.
ANA. Heart, I shall never have such a fortune to save
myself in a fellow
again, and your two reputations, gentlemen, as in this. I'll
undertake him.
HED. Do, and swinge him soundly, good Anaides.
ANA. Let me alone; I'll play other manner of play, than
has been seen yet.
I would the prize lay on't.
MER. It shall if you will, I forgive my right.
ANA. Are you so confident! what's your weapon?
CRI. At any, I, sir.
MER. The Perfect Close, that's now the best.
ANA. Content, I'll pay your scholarity. Who offers?
CRI. Marry, that will I: I dare give you that advantage
too.
ANA. You dare! well, look to your liberal sconce.
AMO. Make your play still, upon the answer, sir.
ANA. Hold your peace, you are a hobby-horse.
ASO. Sir by me, master.
MER. Now, Crites, strike home.
[A CHARGE.
CRI. You shall see me undo the assured swaggerer with a
trick, instantly:
I will play all his own play before him; court the wench in his
garb, in
his phrase, with his face; leave him not so much as a look, an
eye, a
stalk, or an imperfect oath, to express himself by, after me.
[ASIDE TO MERCURY.
MER. Excellent, Crites.
ANA. When begin you, sir? have you consulted?
CRI. To your cost, sir. Which is the piece stands forth
to be courted?
O, are you she? [TO PHILAUTIA.] "Well, madam, or sweet lady, it
is so, I
do love you in some sort, do you conceive? and though I am no
monsieur,
nor no signior, and do want, as they say, logic and sophistry, and
good
words, to tell you why it is so; yet by this hand and by that
candle it is
so: and though I be no book-worm, nor one that deals by art, to
give you
rhetoric and causes, why it should be so, or make it good it is
so? yet,
d—n me, but I know it is so, and am assured it is so, and I and
my sword
shall make it appear it is so, and give you reason sufficient how
it can be
no otherwise but so —"
HED. 'Slight, Anaides, you are mocked, and so we are all.
MER. How now, signior! what, suffer yourself to be
cozened of your
courtship before your face?
HED. This is plain confederacy to disgrace us: let's be
gone, and plot
some revenge.
AMO. "When men disgraces share,
The lesser is the care."
CRI. Nay, stay, my dear Ambition, [TO HEDON.] I can do
you over too.
You that tell your mistress, her beauty is all composed of theft;
her hair
stole from Apollo's goldy-locks; her white and red, lilies and
roses stolen
out of paradise; her eyes two stars, pluck'd from the sky; her
nose the
gnomon of Love's dial, that tells you how the clock of your heart
goes:
and for her other parts, as you cannot reckon them, they are so
many; so
you cannot recount them, they are so manifest. Yours, if his own,
unfortunate Hoyden, instead of Hedon.
[A FLOURISH.
AMO. Sister, come away, I cannot endure them longer.
[EXEUNT ALL BUT MERCURY AND CRITES.
MER. Go, Dors, and you, my madam Courting-stocks,
Follow your scorned and derided mates;
Tell to your guilty breasts, what mere gilt blocks
You are, and how unworthy human states.
CRI. Now, sacred God of Wit, if you can make
Those, whom our sports tax in these apish graces,
Kiss, like the fighting snakes, your peaceful rod,
These times shall canonise you for a god.
MER. Why, Crites, think you any noble spirit,
Or any, worth the title of a man,
Will be incensed to see the enchanted veils
Of self-conceit, and servile flattery,
Wrapt in so many folds by time and custom,
Drawn from his wronged and bewitched eyes?
Who sees not now their shape and nakedness,
Is blinder than the son of earth, the mole;
Crown'd with no more humanity, nor soul.
CRI. Though they may see it, yet the huge estate
Fancy, and form, and sensual pride have gotten,
Will make them blush for anger, not for shame,
And turn shewn nakedness to impudence.
Humour is now the test we try things in:
All power is just: nought that delights is sin.
And yet the zeal of every knowing man
Opprest with hills of tyranny, cast on virtue
By the light fancies of fools, thus transported.
Cannot but vent the Aetna of his fires,
T'inflame best bosoms with much worthier love
Than of these outward and effeminate shades;
That these vain joys, in which their wills consume
Such powers of wit and soul as are of force
To raise their beings to eternity,
May be converted on works fitting men:
And, for the practice of a forced look,
An antic gesture, or a fustian phrase,
Study the native frame of a true heart,
An inward comeliness of bounty, knowledge,
And spirit that may conform them actually
To God's high figures, which they have in power;
Which to neglect for a self-loving neatness,
Is sacrilege of an unpardon'd greatness.
MER. Then let the truth of these things strengthen thee,
In thy exempt and only man-like course;
Like it the more, the less it is respected:
Though men fail, virtue is by gods protected. —
See, here comes Arete; I'll withdraw myself.
[EXIT.
ENTER ARETE.
ARE. Crites, you must provide straight for a masque,
'Tis Cynthia's pleasure.
CRI. How, bright Arete!
Why, 'twere a labour more for Hercules:
Better and sooner durst I undertake
To make the different seasons of the year,
The winds, or elements, to sympathise,
Than their unmeasurable vanity
Dance truly in a measure. They agree!
What though all concord's born of contraries;
So many follies will confusion prove,
And like a sort of jarring Instruments,
All out of tune; because, indeed, we see
There is not that analogy 'twixt discords,
As between things but merely opposite.
ARE. There is your error;: for as Hermes' wand
Charms the disorders of tumultuous ghosts;
And as the strife of chaos then did cease,
When better light than Nature's did arrive:
So, what could never in itself agree,
Forgetteth the eccentric property,
And at her sight turns forth with regular,
Whose sceptre guides the flowing ocean:
And though it did not, yet the most of them
Being either courtiers, or not wholly rude,
Respect of majesty, the place, and presence,
Will keep them within ring; especially
When they are not presented as themselves,
But masqued like others: for, in troth, not so
To incorporate them, could be nothing else,
Than like a state ungovern'd, without laws;
Or body made of nothing but diseases:
The one, through impotency poor, and wretched;
The other, for the anarchy absurd.
CRI. But, lady, for the revellers themselves,
It would be better, in my poor conceit,
That others were employ'd; for such as are
Unfit to be in Cynthia's court, can seem
No less unfit to be in Cynthia's sports.
ARE. That, Crites, is not purposed without
Particular knowledge of the goddess' mind;
Who holding true intelligence, what follies
Had crept into her palace, she resolved
Of sports, and triumphs; under that pretext,
To have them muster in their pomp and fulness,
That so she might more strictly, and to root,
Effect the reformation she intends.
CRI. I now conceive her heavenly drift in all;
And will apply my spirits to serve her will.
O thou, the very power by which I am,
And but for which it were in vain to be,
Chief next Diana, virgin heavenly fair,
Admired Arete, of them admired
Whose souls are not enkindled by the sense,
Disdain not my chaste fire, but feed the flame
Devoted truly to thy gracious name.
ARE. Leave to suspect us: Crites well shall find,
As we are now most dear, we will prove most kind.
[WITHIN.] Arete!
ARE. Hark, I am call'd.
[EXIT.
CRI. I follow instantly.
Phoebus Apollo, if with ancient rites,
And due devotions, I have ever hung
Elaborate Paeans on thy golden shrine,
Or sung thy triumphs in a lofty strain,
Fit for a theatre of gods to hear:
And thou, the other son of mighty Jove,
Cyllenian Mercury, sweet Maia's joy,
If in the busy tumults of the mind
My path thou ever hast illumined,
For which thine altars I have oft perfumed,
And deck'd thy statues with discoulor'd flowers:
Now thrive Invention in this glorious court,
That not of bounty only, but of right,
Cynthia may grace, and give it life by sight.
[EXIT.
SCENE III.
ENTER HESPERUS, CYNTHIA, ARETE, TIME, PHRONESIS, AND THAUMA.
MUSIC ACCOMPANIED. HESPERUS SINGS.
Queen and huntress, chaste, and fair,
Now the sun is laid to sleep,
Seated in thy silver chair,
State in wonted manner keep:
Hesperus, entreats thy light,
Goddess, excellently bright.
Earth, let not thy envious shade
Dare itself to interpose;
Cynthia's shining orb was made
Heav'n to clear, when day did close:
Bless us then with wished sight,
Goddess excellently bright.
Lay thy bow of pearl apart,
And thy crystal shining quiver;
Give unto the flying hart
Space to breathe, how short soever:
Thou, that mak'st a day of night,
Goddess excellently bright.
CYN. When hath Diana, like an envious wretch,
That glitters only to his soothed self,
Denying to the world the precious use
Of hoarded wealth, withheld her friendly aid?
Monthly we spend our still-repaired shine,
And not forbid our virgin-waxen torch
To burn and blaze, while nutriment doth last:
That once consumed, out of Jove's treasury
A new we take, and stick it in our sphere,
To give the mutinous kind of wanting men
Their look'd-for light. Yet what is their desert?
Bounty is wrong'd, interpreted as due;
MORtals can challenge not a ray but right,
Yet do expect the whole of Cynthia's light.
But if that deities withdrew their gifts
For human follies, what should men deserve
But death and darkness? It behoves the high,
For their own sakes, to do things worthily.
ARE. Most true, most sacred goddess; for the heavens
Receive no good of all the good they do:
Nor Jove, nor you, nor other heavenly powers, are fed with fumes,
which do from incense rise,
Or sacrifices reeking in their gore;
Yet, for the care which you of mortals have,
(Whose proper good it is that they be so;)
You well are pleased with odours redolent:
But ignorant is all the race of men,
Which still complains, not knowing why, or when.
CYN. Else, noble Arete, they would not blame,
And tax, or for unjust, or for as proud,
Thy Cynthia, in the things which are indeed
The greatest glories in our starry crown;
Such is our chastity, which safely scorns,
Not love, for who more fervently doth love
Immortal honour, and divine renown?
But giddy Cupid, Venus' frantic son.
Yet, Arete, if by this veiled light
We but discover'd (what we not discern)
Any the least of imputations stand
Ready to sprinkle our unspotted fame
With note of lightness, from these revels near:
Not, for the empire of the universe,
Should night or court, this whatsoever shine,
Or grace of ours, unhappily enjoy.
Place and occasion are two privy thieves;
And from poor innocent ladies often steal
The best of things, an honourable name;
To stay with follies, or where faults may be,
Infers a crime, although the party free.
ARE. How Cynthianly, that is, how worthily
And like herself, the matchless Cynthia speaks!
Infinite jealousies, infinite regards,
Do watch about the true virginity:
But Phoebe lives from all, not only fault,
But as from thought, so from suspicion free.
Thy presence broad-seals our delights for pure;
What's done in Cynthia's sight, is done secure.
CYN That then so answer'd, dearest Arete,
What th' argument, or of what sort our sports are like to be this
night, I not demand.
Nothing which duty, and desire to please,
Bears written in the forehead, comes amiss.
But unto whose Invention must we owe,
The complement of this nights furniture?
MARE. Excellent goddess, to a man's, whose worth,
without hyperbole, I thus may praise;
One at least studious of deserving well,
And, to speak truth, indeed deserving well.
Potential merit stands for actual,
Where only opportunity doth want,
Not will, nor power; both which in him abound,
One whom the Muses and Minerva love;
For whom should they, than Crites, more esteem,
Whom Phoebus, though not Fortune, holdeth dear?
And, which convinceth excellence in him,
A principal admirer of yourself:
Even through the ungentle injuries of Fate,
And difficulties, which do virtue choke,
Thus much of him appears. What other things
Of farther note do lie unborn in him,
Them I do leave for cherishment to shew,
And for a goddess graciously to judge.
CYN. We have already judged him, Arete,
Nor are we ignorant how noble minds
Suffer too much through those indignities
Which times, and vicious persons cast on them.
Ourself have ever vowed to esteem
As virtue for itself, so fortune, base;
Who's first in worth, the same be first in place.
Nor farther notice, Arete, we crave
Then thine approval's sovereign warranty:
Let 't be thy care to make us known to him;
Cynthia shall brighten what the world made dim.
[EXIT ARETE.
THE FIRST MASQUE.
ENTER CUPID, DISGUISED AS ANTEROS, FOLLOWED BY STORGE, AGLAIA,
EUPHANTASTE,
AND APHELEIA.
CUP. Clear pearl of heaven, and not to be farther
ambitious in titles,
Cynthia! the fame of this illustrious night, among others, hath
also drawn
these four fair virgins from the palace of their queen Perfection,
(a word
which makes no sufficient difference betwixt her's and thine,) to
visit thy
imperial court: for she, their sovereign not finding where to
dwell among
men, before her return to heaven, advised them wholly to consecrate
themselves to thy celestial service, as in whose clear spirit (the
proper
element and sphere of virtue) they should behold not her alone,
their
ever-honoured mistress, but themselves (more truly themselves) to
live
enthronised. Herself would have commended them unto thy favour
more
particularly, but that she knows no commendation is more available
with
thee, than that of proper virtue. Nevertheless she willed them to
present
this crystal mound, a note of monarchy, and symbol of perfection,
to thy
MORe worthy deity; which, as here by me they most humbly
do, so amongst the
rarities thereof, that is the chief, to shew whatsoever the world
hath
excellent, howsoever remote and various. But your irradiate
judgement will
soon discover the secrets
of this little crystal world. Themselves, to appear more plainly,
because
they know nothing more odious then false pretexts, have chosen to
express
their several qualities thus in
several colours.
The first, in citron colour, is natural affection, which, given us
to
procure our good, is sometime called Storge; and as everyone is
nearest to
himself, so this handmaid of reason, allowable Self-love, as it is
without
harm, so are none without it: her place in the court of
Perfection was to
quicken minds in the pursuit of honour. Her device is a
perpendicular
level, upon a cube or square; the word, se suo modulo'; alluding
to that
true measure of one's self, which as every one ought to make, so
is it most
conspicuous in thy divine example.
The second, in green is Aglaia, delectable and pleasant
conversation, whose
property it is to move a kindly delight, and sometime not without
laughter:
her office to entertain assemblies, and keep societies together
with fair
familiarity. Her device within a ring of clouds, a heart with
shine about
it; the word, 'curarum nubila pello': an allegory of Cynthia's
light,
which no less clears the sky then her fair mirth the heart.
The third, in discoloured mantle spangled all over, is
Euphantaste, a well-conceited Wittiness, and employed in honouring
the
court with the riches of her pure invention. Her device, upon a
Petasus,
or Mercurial hat, a crescent; The word; 'sic laus ingenii';
inferring that
the praise and glory of wit doth ever increase, as doth thy
growing moon.
The fourth in white is Apheleia, a nymph as pure and simple as the
soul, or
as an abrase table, and is therefore called Simplicity; without
folds,
without plaits, without colour, without counterfeit; and (to speak
plainly)
plainness itself. Her device is no device. The word under her
silver
shield, 'omnis abest fucus'; alluding to thy spotless self, who
art as far
from impurity as from mortality.
Myself, celestial goddess, more fit for the court of Cynthia than
the
arbours of Cytherea, am called Anteros, or Love's enemy; the more
welcome
therefore to thy court, and the fitter to conduct this quaternion,
who, as
they are thy professed votaries, and for that cause adversaries to
Love,
yet thee, perpetual virgin, they both love, and vow to love
eternally.
RE-ENTER ARETE, WITH CRITES.
CYN. Not without wonder, nor without delight
Mine eyes have view'd, in contemplation's depth,
This work of wit, divine and excellent:
What shape, what substance, or what unknown power,
In virgin's habit, crown'd with laurel leaves,
And olive-branches woven in between,
On sea-girt rocks, like to a goddess shines!
O front! O face! O all celestial, sure,
And more then mortal! Arete, behold
Another Cynthia, and another queen,
Whose glory, like a lasting plenilune,
Seems ignorant of what it is to wane.
Nor under heaven an object could be found
More fit to please. Let Crites make approach.
Bounty forbids to pall our thanks with stay,
Or to defer our favour, after view:
The time of grace is, when the cause is new.
ARE. Lo, here the man, celestial Delia,
Who (like a circle bounded in itself)
Contains as much as man in fulness may.
Lo, here the man; who, not of usual earth,
But of that nobler and more precious mould
Which Phoebus' self doth temper, is composed;
And who, though all were wanting to reward,
Yet, to himself he would not wanting be:
Thy favours gain is his ambition's most,
And labour's best; who (humble in his height)
Stands fixed silent in thy glorious sight.
CYN. With no less pleasure than we have beheld
This precious crystal, work of rarest wit,
Our eye doth read thee, now instiled, our Crites;
Whom learning, virtue, and our favour last,
Exempteth from the gloomy multitude.
With common eye the Supreme should not see:
Henceforth be ours, the more thyself to be.
CRI. Heaven's purest light, whose orb may be eclipsed,
But not thy praise; divinest Cynthia!
How much too narrow for so high a grace,
Thine (save therein) unworthy Crites
Doth find himself! forever shine thy fame;
Thine honours ever, as thy beauties do.
In me they must, my dark world's chiefest lights,
By whose propitious beams my powers are raised
To hope some part of those most lofty points,
Which blessed Arete hath pleased to name,
As marks, to which my endeavour's steps should bend:
Mine, as begun at thee, in thee must end.
THE SECOND MASQUE.
ENTER MERCURY AS A PAGE, INTRODUCING EUCOSMOS, EUPATHES, EUTOLMOS,
AND EUCOLOS.
MER. Sister of Phoebus to whose bright orb we owe, that we
not complain of
his absence; these four brethren (for they are brethren, and sons
of
Eutaxia, a lady known, and highly beloved of your resplendent
deity) not
able to be absent, when Cynthia held a solemnity, officiously
insinuate
themselves into thy presence: for as there are four cardinal
virtues, upon
which the whole frame of the court doth move, so are these the four
cardinal properties, without which the body of compliment moveth
not. With
these four silver javelins, (which they bear in their hands) they
support
in princes' courts the state of the
presence, as by office they are obliged: which though
here they may seem superfluous, yet, for honour's sake, they thus
presume
to visit thee, having also been employed in the palace of queen
Perfection.
And though to them, that would make themselves gracious to a
goddess,
sacrifices were fitter than presents, or Impresses, yet they both
hope thy
favour, and (in place of either) use several symbols, containing
the titles
of thy imperial dignity.
First, the hithermost, in the changeable blue and green robe, is
the
commendably-fashioned gallant Eucosmos; whose courtly habit is the
grace of
the presence, and delight of the surveying eye; whom ladies
understand by
the names of Neat and Elegant. His symbol is 'divae virgini', in
which he
would express thy deity's principal glory, which hath ever been
virginity.
The second, in the rich accoutrement, and robe of purple, empaled
with
gold, is Eupathes; who entertains his mind with an harmless, but
not
incurious variety; all the objects of his senses are sumptuous,
himself a
gallant, that, without excess, can make use of superfluity, go
richly in
embroideries, jewels, and what not, without vanity, and fare
delicately
without gluttony; and therefore (not without cause) is universally
thought
to be of fine humour. His symbol is 'divae optimae'; an attribute
to
express thy goodness, in which thou so resemblest Jove thy father.
The third, in the blush-coloured suit, is Eutolmos, as duly
respecting
others, as never neglecting himself; commonly known by the title
of good
Audacity; to courts and courtly assemblies, a guest most
acceptable. His
symbol is 'divae viragini'; to express thy hardy courage in chase
of savage
beasts, which harbour in woods, and wildernesses.
The fourth, in watchet tinsel, is the kind, and truly benefique
Eucolos,
who imparteth not without respect, but yet without difficulty, and
hath the
happiness to make every kindness seem double, by the timely and
freely
bestowing thereof. He is the chief of them, who by the vulgar are
said to
be of good nature. His symbol is 'divae maximae'; an adjunct to
signify
thy greatness, which in heaven, earth, and hell, is formidable.
MUSIC. A DANCE BY THE TWO MASQUES JOINED, DURING WHICH CUPID AND
MERCURY
RETIRE TO THE SIDE OF THE STAGE.
CUP. Is not that Amorphus, the traveller?
MER. As though it were not! do you not see how his legs
are in travail
with a measure?
CUP. Hedon, thy master is next.
MER. What, will Cupid turn nomenclator, and cry them?
CUP. No faith, but I have a comedy toward, that would not
be lost for a
kingdom.
MER. In good time, for Cupid will prove the comedy.
CUP. Mercury, I am studying how to match them.
MER. How to mismatch them were harder.
CUP. They are the nymphs must do it; I shall sport myself
with their
passions above measure.
MER. Those nymphs would be tamed a little indeed, but I
fear thou has not
arrows for the purpose.
CUP. O yes, here be of all sorts, flights, rovers, and
butt-shafts. But I
can wound with a brandish, and never draw bow for the matter.
MER. I cannot but believe it, my invisible archer, and yet
methinks you are tedious.
CUP. It behoves me to be somewhat circumspect, Mercury;
for if Cynthia
hear the twang of my bow, she'll go near to ship me with the
string;
therefore, to prevent that, I thus discharge a brandish upon — it
makes no
matter which of the couples. Phantaste and Amorphus, at you.
[WAVES HIS ARROW AT THEM.
MER. Will the shaking of a shaft strike them into such a
fever of affection?
CUP. As well as the wink of an eye: but, I pray thee,
hinder me not with
thy prattle.
MER. Jove forbid I hinder thee; Marry, all that I fear is
Cynthia's
presence, which, with the cold of her chastity, casteth such an
antiperistasis about the place, that no heat of thine will tarry
with the
patient.
CUP. It will tarry the rather, for the antiperistasis will
keep it in.
MER. I long to see the experiment.
CUP. Why their marrow boils already, or they are all
turn'd eunuchs.
MER. Nay, an't be so, I'll give over speaking, and be a
spectator only.
THE FIRST DANCE ENDS.
AMO. Cynthia, by my bright soul, is a right exquisite and
spendidious
lady; yet Amorphus, I think, hath seen more fashions, I am sure
more
countries; but whether I have or not, what need we gaze on
Cynthia, that
have ourself to admire?
PHA. O, excellent Cynthia! yet if Phantaste sat where she
does, and had
such a attire on her head, (for attire can do much,) I say no more
— but
goddesses are goddesses, and Phantaste is as she is! I would the
revels
were done once, I might go to my school of glass again, and learn
to do
myself right after all this ruffling.
[MUSIC; THEY BEGIN THE SECOND DANCE.
MER. How now Cupid? here's a wonderful change with your
brandish! do you
not hear how they dote?
CUP. What prodigy is this? no word of love, no mention,
no motion!
MER. Not a word my little ignis fatue, not a word.
CUP. Are my darts enchanted? is their vigour gone? is
their virtue —
MER. What! Cupid turned jealous of himself? ha, ha, ha!
CUP. Laughs Mercury?
MER. Is Cupid angry?
CUP. Hath he not cause, when his purpose is so deluded?
MER. A rare comedy, it shall be entitled Cupid's?
CUP. Do not scorn us Hermes.
MER Choler and Cupid are two fiery things; I scorn them
not. But I see
that come to pass which I presaged in the beginning.
CUP. You cannot tell: perhaps the physic will not work so
soon upon some
as upon others. It may be the rest are not so resty.
MER. "Ex ungue"; you know the old adage; as these so are
the remainder.
CUP. I'll try: this is the same shaft with which I
wounded Argurion.
[WAVES HIS ARROW AGAIN.
MER. Ay, but let me save you a labour, Cupid: there were
certain bottles
of water fetch'd, and drunk off since that time, by these gallants.
CUP. Jove strike me into earth! The Fountain of Self-love!
MER. Nay faint not Cupid.
CUP. I remember'd it not.
MER. Faith, it was ominous to take the name of Anteros
upon you; you know
not what charm or enchantment lies in the word: you saw, I durst
not
venture upon any device in our presentment, but was content to be
no other
then a simple page. Your arrows' properties, (to keep decorum,)
Cupid, are
suited, it should seem, to the nature of him you personate.
CUP. Indignity not to be borne!
MER. Nay rather, an attempt to have been forborne.
[THE SECOND DANCE ENDS.
CUP. How might I revenge myself on this insulting Mercury?
there's
CRItes, his minion, he has not tasted of this water?
[WAVES HIS ARROW AT CRITES.] It shall be so. Is Crites turn'd
dotard on
himself too?
MER. That follows not, because the venom of your shafts
cannot pierce him,
Cupid.
CUP. As though there were one antidote for these, and
another for him?
MER. As though there were not; or, as if one effect might
not arise of
diverse causes? What say you to Cynthia, Arete, Phronesis, Time,
and
others there?
CUP. They are divine.
MER. And Crites aspires to be so.
[MUSIC; THEY BEGIN THE THIRD DANCE.
CUP. But that shall not serve him.
MER. 'Tis like to do it, at this time. But Cupid is grown
too covetous,
that will not spare one of a multitude.
CUP. One is more than a multitude.
MER. Arete's favour makes any one shot-proof against thee,
Cupid. I pray
thee, light honey-bee, remember thou art not now in Adonis'
garden, but in
Cynthia's presence, where thorns lie in garrison about the roses.
Soft,
Cynthia speaks.
CYN. Ladies and gallants of our court, to end,
And give a timely period to our sports,
Let us conclude them, with declining night;
Our empire is but of the darker half.
And if you judge it any recompence
For your faire pains, t' have earn'd Diana's thanks,
Diana grants them, and bestows their crown
To gratify your acceptable zeal.
For you are they, that not, as some have done,
Do censure us, as too severe, and sour,
But as, more rightly, gracious to the good;
Although we not deny, unto the proud,
Or the profane, perhaps indeed austere:
For so Actaeon, by presuming far,
Did, to our grief, incur a fatal doom;
And so, swoln Niobe, comparing more
Than he presumed, was trophaeed into stone.
But are we therefore judged too extreme?
Seems it no crime to enter sacred bowers,
And hallowed places with impure aspect
Most lewdly to pollute? Seems it no crime
To brave a deity? Let mortals learn
To make religion of offending heaven.
And not at all to censure powers divine.
To men this argument should stand for firm,
A goddess did it, therefore it was good.
We are not cruel, nor delight in blood. —
But what have serious repetitions
To do with revels, and the sports of court?
We not intend to sour your late delights
With harsh expostulation. Let suffice
That we take notice, and can take revenge
Of these calumnious, and lewd blasphemies.
For we are no less Cynthia than we were,
Nor is our power, but as ourself, the same:
Though we have now put on no tire of shine,
But mortal eyes undazzled may endure.
Years, are beneath the spheres, and time makes weak
Things under heaven, not powers which govern heaven.
And though ourself be in ourself secure,
Yet let not mortals challenge to themselves
Immunity from thence. Lo, this is all:
Honour hath store of spleen, but wanteth gall.
Once more we cast the slumber of our thanks
On your ta'en toil, which here let take an end:
And that we not mistake your several worths,
Nor you our favour, from yourselves remove
What makes you not yourselves, those clouds of masque
Particular pains particular thanks do ask.
[THE DANCERS UNMASK.
How! let me view you. Ha! are we contemn'd?
Is there so little awe of our disdain,
That any (under trust of their disguise)
Should mix themselves with others of the court,
And, without forehead boldly press so far,
As farther none? How apt is lenity
To be abused! severity to be loath'd!
And yet, how much more doth the seeming face
Of neighbour virtues, and their borrow'd names,
Add of lewd boldness to loose vanities!
Who would have thought that Philautia durst,
Or have usurped noble Storge's name,
Or with that theft have ventured on our eyes?
Who would have thought, that all of them should hope
So much of our connivence, as to come
To grace themselves, with titles not their own?
Instead of med'cines, have we maladies?
And such imposthumes, as Phantaste is
Grow in our palace? We must lance these sores,
Or all will putrify. Nor are these all,
For we suspect a farther fraud then this:
Take off our veil, that shadows may depart,
And shapes appear, beloved Arete — So,
Another face of things presents itself,
Than did of late. What! feather'd Cupid masqued,
And masked like to Anteros? And stay! more strange!
Dear Mercury our brother, like a page,
To countenance the ambush of the boy!
Nor endeth our discovery as yet:
Gelaia like a nymph, that, but erewhile,
In male attire did serve Anaides?
Cupid came hither to find sport and game,
Who heretofore hath been too conversant
AMOng our train; but never felt revenge:
And Mercury bare Cupid company.
Cupid, we must confess, this time of mirth,
Proclaim'd by us, gave opportunity
To thy attempts, although no privilege:
Tempt us no farther; we cannot endure
Thy presence longer; vanish hence, away!
[EXIT CUPID.
You Mercury, we must entreat to stay,
And hear what we determine of the rest;
For in this plot we well perceive your hand.
But, (for we mean not a censorian task,
And yet to lance these ulcers grown so ripe,)
Dear Arete, and Crites, to you two
We give the charge; impose what pains you please:
Th' incurable cut off, the rest reform,
Remembering ever what we first decreed,
Since revels were proclaim'd, let now none bleed.
ARE. How well Diana can distinguish times,
And sort her censures, keeping to herself
The doom of gods, leaving the rest to us!
Come, cite them, Crites, first, and then proceed.
CRI. First, Philautia, for she was the first,
Then light Gelaia, in Aglaia's name,
Thirdly, Phantaste, and Moria next,
Main Follies all, and of the Female crew:
AMOrphus, or Eucosmos' counterfeit,
Voluptuous Hedon ta'en for Eupathes,
Brazen Anaides, and Asotus last,
With his two pages, Morus, and Prosaites;
And thou, the traveller's evil, Cos, approach,
Impostors all, and male deformities —
ARE. Nay forward, for I delegate my power.
And will that at thy mercy they do stand,
Whom they so oft, so plainly scorn'd before.
Tis virtue which they want, and wanting it,
Honour no garment to their backs can fit.
Then, Crites, practise thy discretion.
CRI. Adored Cynthia, and bright Arete,
Another might seem fitter for this task,
Than Crites far, but that you judge not so:
For I not to appear vindicative,
Or mindful of contempts, which I contemn'd,
As done of impotence) must be remiss:
Who, as I was the author, in some sort,
To work their knowledge into Cynthia's sight,
So should be much severer to revenge
The indignity hence issuing to her name:
But there's not one of these, who are unpain'd,
Or by themselves unpunished; for vice
Is like a fury to the vicious mind,
And turns delight itself to punishment.
But we must forward, to define their doom.
You are offenders, that must be confess'd;
Do you confess it?
ALL. We do.
CRI. And that you merit sharp correction?
CRI. Then we (reserving unto Delia's grace
Her farther pleasure, and to Arete
What Delia granteth) thus do sentence you:
That from this place (for Penance known of all,
Since you have drunk so deeply of Self-love)
You, two and two, singing a Palinode,
March to your several homes by Niobe's stone,
And offer up two tears a-piece thereon,
That it may change the name, as you must change,
And of a stone be called Weeping-cross:
Because it standeth cross of Cynthia's way,
One of whose names is sacred Trivia
p 231.
And after penance thus perform'd, you pass
In like set order; not as Midas did,
To wash his gold off into Tagus' stream;
But to the Well of knowledge, Helicon;
Where, purged of your present maladies,
Which are not few, nor slender, you become
Such as you fain would seem, and then return,
Offering your service to great Cynthia.
This is your sentence; if the goddess please
To ratify it with her high consent;
The scope of wise mirth unto fruit is bent.
CYN. We do approve thy censure belov'd Crites;
Which Mercury, thy true propitious friend,
(A deity, next Jove, beloved of us,)
Will undertake to see exactly done.
And for this service of discovery,
Perform'd by thee, in honour of our name,
We vow to guerdon it with such due grace
As shall become our bounty, and thy place.
Princes that would their people should do well,
Must at themselves begin, as at the head;
For men, by their example, pattern out.
Their Imitations, and regard of laws:
A virtuous court, a world to virtue draws.
EXEUNT CYNTHIA AND HER NYMPHS, FOLLOWED BY ARETE AND CRITES: —
AMORPHUS,
PHANTASTE, ETC., GO OFF THE STAGE IN PAIRS, SINGING THE
FOLLOWING
PALINODE
AMO. From Spanish shrugs, French faces, smirks, irpes, and
all affected
humours.
CHORUS. Good Mercury defend us.
PHA. From secret friends, sweet servants, loves, doves,
and such fantastic
humours.
CHORUS. Good Mercury defend us.
AMO. From stabbing of arms, flap-dragons, healths, whiffs,
and all such
swaggering humours.
CHORUS. Good Mercury defend us.
PHA. From waving fans, coy glances, glicks, cringes, and
all such
simpering humours,
CHORUS. Good Mercury defend us.
From making love by attorney, courting of puppets, and paying for
new
acquaintance.
CHORUS. Good Mercury defend us.
PHA. From perfumed dogs, monkeys, sparrows, dildoes,
and paraquettoes,.
CHORUS. Good Mercury defend us.
AMO. From wearing bracelets of hair, shoe-ties, gloves,
garters, and rings
with poesies.
CHORUS. Good Mercury defend us.
PHA. From pargetting, painting, slicking, glazing, and
renewing old
rivelled faces.
CHORUS. Good Mercury defend us.
AMO. From 'squiring to tilt yards, play-houses, pageants,
and all such public places.
CHORUS. Good Mercury defend us.
PHA. From entertaining one gallant to gull another, and
making fools of
either,
CHORUS. Good Mercury defend us.
AMO. From belying ladies favours, noblemen's countenance,
coining
counterfeit employments, vain-glorious taking to them other men's
services,
and all self-loving humours.
CHORUS. Good Mercury defend us.
MERCURY AND CRITES SING.
Now each one dry his weeping eyes,
And to the Well of Knowledge haste;
Where, purged of your maladies,
You may of sweeter waters taste:
And, with refined voice, report
The Grace of Cynthia, and her court.
[EXEUNT.
THE EPILOGUE.
Gentles, be't known to you, since I went in
I am turn'd rhymer, and do thus begin.
The author (jealous, how your sense doth take
His travails) hath enjoined me to make
Some short, and ceremonious epilogue;
But if I yet know what, I am a rogue:
He ties me to such laws as quite distract
My thoughts, and would a year of time exact.
I neither must be faint, remiss, nor sorry,
Sour, serious, confident, nor peremptory:
But betwixt these. Let's see; to lay the blame
Upon the children's action, that were lame.
To crave your favour with a begging knee,
Were to distrust the writer's faculty.
To promise better at the next we bring,
Prorogues disgrace, commends not any thing.
Stiffly to stand on this, and proudly approve
The play, might tax the Maker of Self-love.
I'll only speak what I have heard him say,
"By — 'tis good, and if you like't, you may."
'Ecce rubet quidam, pallet, stupet, oscitat, odit
Hoc volo: nunc nobis carmina nostra placent.