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 fall, 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 creatures, 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. On. 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 charges.—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 ycleped 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 vostre." [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 fan 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, with 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. Sit 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.] ASO. 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'll 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 discolour'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, by right, Yet do expect the whole of Cynthia's light. But if that deities withdrew their gifts For human follies, what could 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 night's furniture? ARE. 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 judgment 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 every one 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 the 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 than 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) the most unworthy Crites Doth find himself! for ever 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 whip 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 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 the 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 it 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 than this:
Take off our veil, that shadows many 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 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?
ALL. Yes.
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.
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.
AMO. From making love by attorney, courting of puppets, and paying
for new acquaintance.
CHORUS. Good Mercury defend us.
PHA. From perfumed dogs, monkies, 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."
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