 | A Covrtly Masqve |  |
Scholler.
Soldier, ta-ra-ra-ra-ra. How ist? thou lookst as if
thou hadst lost a field to day.
Sold.
No, but I haue lost a day ith field: if you
take me a maunding but where I am commanding,
let vn shew me the house of correction.
Sch.
Why, thou wert not maunding, wert
thou? there's martiall danger in that, beleeue it.
Sold.
No sir, but I was bold to shew my selfe to some of my old
and familiar acquaintance; but being disguis'd with my wants, there's
no body knew me.
Sch.
Faith, and that's the worst disguise a man can walke in; thou
wert better haue appeard drunke in good cloathes, much better:
there's no superfluities shame a man; as to be ouer-braue, ouer-bold,
ouer-swearing, ouer-lying, ouer-whoring, these adde still to his repute;
when a man cannot be braue, dares not be bold, is afraid to sweare,
wants maintenance for a lye, and money to giue a whore a supper:
this is pauper, cuius modicum non satis est; nay, hee shall neuer
be rich with begging neither, which is another wonder; because
many beggers are rich.
Sold.
Oh Canina Facundia! this dog-eloquence of thine wil make
thee somewhat one day, Scholler; couldst thou turne but this prose
into rime, there were a pittifull liuing to bee pickt out of it.
Sch.
I could make Ballads for a need.
Sold.
Very well sir; and Ile warrant thee thou shalt neuer want
subiect to write of: One hangs himselfe to day, another drownes
himselfe to morrow, a Serieant stabd next day, heere a Petti-fogger
ath' Pillory, a Bawd in the Carts nose, and a Pander in the taile: Hic
Mulier, Hæc Vir, Fashions, Fictions, Fellonies, Fooleries, a hundred
hauens has the Ballad-monger to traffique at, and new ones still
daily discouered.
Sch.
Prethee Soldier, no further this way, I participate more of
Heraclitus then Democritus, I could rather weepe the sinnes of the
people then sing vm.
Sold.
Shall I set thee downe a course to liue?
Sch.
Faith, a coorse liuing I thinke must serue my turne; but why
hast thou not found out thine owne yet?
Sold.
Tush, thats resolu'd on, beg; when there's vse for me,
I shall bee braue agen, hugg'd, and belou'd:
Wee are like Winter garments, in the height
And hot blood of Summer, put off, throwne by
For moths-meate, neuer so much as thought on,
Till the Drum strikes vp stormes agen; and then,
Come, my well-lin'd Soldier, (with valour,
Not Valure) keepe me warme; Oh, I loue thee;
Wee shall bee trim'd and very well brusht then:
If wee be fac'd with Fur, 'tis tolerable;
For we may pillage then and steale our prey,
And not bee hangd for't; when the least fingring
At the best, is euen but the forlorne hope
Vnto his Country, sent desperately out
And neuer more expected: if he come,
Peace's warre, perhaps, the Law prouidently
Has prouided for him, some house or lands
May be suspenc't in wrangling controuersie
And hee bee hir'd to keepe possession:
For there may be swords drawne, he may become
The abiect second to some stinking Bayly;
Oh, let him serue the Poxe first, and dye a Gentleman.
Come, I know my ends, but would faine prouide for thee:
Canst thou make?
Sch.
What? I haue no handicraft, man.
Sold.
Cuckolds, make Cuckolds, 'tis a pretty trade
In a peacefull Citty; 'tis womens worke, man,
And they are good pay-masters.
Sch.
I dare not:
'Tis a worke of super-errogation, and the Church forbids it.
Sold.
Prethee, what's Latine for a Cuckold, Scholler?
I could neuer learne yet.
Sch.
Faith, the Latines haue no proper word for it,
that euer I read; Homo, I take it, is the best,
Because it is a common name to all men.
Sold.
Y'are mad fellowes you Schollers; I am perswaded,
Were I a Scholler now, I could not want.
Sch.
Euery man's most capable of his owne griefe.
A Scholler said you? why there are none now a dayes:
Were you a Scholler, you'd bee a singular fellow.
Sold.
How, no Schollers! What's become of vm all?
Sch.
Ile make it proofe from your experience:
A Commander's a Commander, Captaine, Captaine;
But, hauing no Soldiers, where's the command?
Such are wee, all Doctors, no Disciples now;
Euery man's his owne teacher, none learnes of others:
That shall dispute in their owne tongues backward and forward,
With all the learned Fathers of the Iewes?
Sold.
Mechanick Rabbies! what might those be!
Sch.
Ile shew you sir, (and they are men are daily to be seene)
There's Rabbe Iob, a venerable Silkeweauer,
Ichu, a Throester, dwelling ith Spittle fields;
Theres Rabbi Abimelech, a learned Cobler,
Rabbi Lazarus, a superstichious Taylor:
These shall hold vp their Shittles, Needles, Awles,
Against the grauest Leuite of the Land,
And giue no ground neither.
Sould.
That I beleeue,
They haue no ground for any thing they doe.
Schol.
You vnderstand right: and these men by practique
Haue got the Theorie of all the Arts
At their fingers ends, and in that they'le liue;
How ere they'le dye, I know not: for they change dayly.
Sould.
This is strange,
How come they to attaine this knowledge?
Schol.
As Boyes learne Arithmetique, practise with Counters.
To reckon summes of siluer: so with their Tooles
They come to Grammar, Logick, Rhetorique
And all the Sciences; as for example,
The deuout Weauer sits within his Loome,
And thus hee makes a learned Syllogisme:
His Woofe the Maior, and his Warpe the Minor.
His Shittle then the braine, and firme conclusion,
Makes him a piece of Stuffe, that Aristotle,
Ramus, nor all the Logicians can take a pieces.
Sould.
This has some likelihood.
Schol.
So likewise by
His deepe instructiue and his mistick tooles,
The Taylor comes to be Rhetoricall,
First, on the spred Veluet, Sattin, Stuffe, or Cloth,
That goes about the bush where the Thiefe stands.
Then comes his Sheeres in shape of an Eclypsis,
And takes away the t'others too long tayle:
By his Needle he vnderstands Ironia,
That with one eye lookes two wayes at once:
Metonymia euer at his fingers ends.
Some call his Pickadell, Synecdoche:
But I thinke rather that should be his Yard
Being but Pars pro toto, and by Metaphor
All know, the Selleridge vnder the shop-boord,
He cals his Hell, not that it is a place
Of Spirits abode, but that from that Abysse
Is no recouery or redemption
To any owners hand what euer falls.
I could runne further, wer't not tedious,
And place the stiffe-toed Cobler in his forme:
But let them mend themselues, for yet all's naught:
They now learne onely neuer to be taught.
Sould.
Let them alone; How shall we learne to liue?
Schol.
Without booke is most perfect, for with 'vm
We shall hardly: thou maist keepe a Fence-Schoole, 'tis a Noble Science.
Sould.
I had rather be ith Crowne Office:
Thou maist keepe Schoole too, and doe good seruice
To bring vp children for the next age better.
Schol.
'Tis a poore liuing thats pickt out of boyes buttocks.
Schol.
'Tis somewhat better then the night-Farmer yet.
Musique. Pallas descends.
Harke, What sounds are these?
Schol.
Ha? Theres somewhat more,
There is in sight a glorious presence,
A presence more then humane.
Sould.
An amazing one, Scholler; if euer thou couldst coniure, speake now.
In name of all the Deities, what art thou?
Thy shine is more then Sub-celestiall,
'Tis at the least heauenly Angelicall.
Pall.
A Patronesse vnto ye both, yee ignorant and vndeseruing
Fauorites of my Fame; You are a Souldier?
Sould.
Since these armes could weild Armes
I haue profest it, brightest Deitie.
Pall.
To thee I am Bellona: you are a Scholler?
Schol.
In that poore Pilgrimage (since I could goe)
I hitherto haue walkt.
Pall.
To thee I am Minerua,
Pallas to both, Goddesse of Arts and Armes,
Of Armes and Arts, for neither haue precedence,
For hee's the complete man partakes of both,
The soule of Arts ioyn'd with the flesh of valour;
And he alone participates with me.
Thou art no Souldier vnlesse a Scholler,
Nor thou a Scholler vnlesse a Souldier.
Ye' aue Noble breedings both, worthy Foundations,
And will ye build vp rotten Battlements
On such faire groundsels? That will ruine all:
Lay Wisedome on thy Valour, on thy Wisedome, Valour;
For these are mutuall co-incidents,
What seekes the Souldier?
Sould.
My maintenance.
Pall.
Lay by thine Armes and take the Citie then.
Theres the full Cup and Cap of maintenance;
And your griefe is want too?
Schol.
I want all but griefe.
Pall.
No: you want most, what most you doe professe.
Where read you to bee rich was happiest?
He had no bay from Phœbus, nor from me
That e're wrote so, no Minerua in him,
My Priests haue taught, that pouertie is safe,
Sweet and secure: for nature giues man nothing
There's neither Bason held nor Dowry giuen,
At parting nor is any garner stor'd,
Wardrope or Warehouse kept for their returne:
Wherefore shall then man count his Myriade's
Of gold and siluer Idols: since thrifty Nature
Will nothing lend but she will haue't agen,
And life and labour for her interest?
My Priests doe teach, Seek thou thy selfe within,
Make thy minde wealthy, thy knowing conscience,
And those shall keepe thee company from hence.
Or would you wish to emulate the gods,
Liue (as you may imagine) carelesse and free,
With ioyes and pleasures crown'd, and those eternall,
This were to (farre) exceede 'vm: for while earth lasts
The Deities themselues abate their fulnesse,
Troubled with cryes of ne're contented man:
Man then to seeke and finde it, all that hope
Fled when Pandora's Fatall box flew ope.
Sould.
Diuine Lady, theres yet a competence
Which we come short off.
Pall.
That may as well be caus'd
From your owne negligence, as our slowe blessings:
But I'le preferre you to a greater power,
Euen Iupiter himselfe, Father and King of Gods,
With whom I may well ioyne in iust complaint:
These latter Ages haue dispoil'd my Fame.
Minerua's Altars are all ruin'd now.
I had along ador'd Paladium.
Offerings and Incense fuming on my shrine;
Rome held me deare, and old Troy gaue me worship,
All Greece renown'd me, till the Ida prize
Ioynd me with wrathfull Iuno to destroy 'vin
(For we are better ruin'd, then prophan'd.)
Now let the latter ages count the gaines
But I'le inuoke great Iupiter.
Schol.
Doe, Goddesse:
And re-erect the ruines of thy Fame
For Poesie can doe it.
Pall.
Altitonant
Imperiall crown'd, and thunder-armed Ioue,
Vnfold thy fierie Vaile, the flaming Robe
And superficies of thy better brightnesse,
Descend from thine Orbicular Chariot,
Listen the plaints of thy poore Votaries,
'Tis Pallas calls, thy Daughter, Iupiter,
Tane from thee by the Lemnian Mulciber,
A Midwife god to the deliuerie
Of thy most Sacred fertill teeming braine.
Musique. Iupiter descends.
Harke, these sounds proclaime his willing sweet descent,
If not full blessings, expect some content.
Iup.
What would our Daughter?
Pall.
Iust-iudging loue,
I meditate the suite of humble mortals,
By whose large Scepter all their Fates are swayd,
Aduerse or auspicious.
Iup.
Tis more then Iupiter
Can doe to please 'vm, vnsatisfied man
Has in his ends no end, not hels Abysse
Is deeper gulf'd then greedy Auarice,
Ambition findes no Mountaine high enough,
For his aspiring Foote to stand vpon.
One drinkes out all his blessings into surfets,
Another throwes vm out as all were his,
And the Gods bound for prodigall supply,
What is hee liues content in any kinde?
That long incensed nature is now ready
Pall.
These are two noble Vertues (my dread Syre)
Both Arts and Armes well-wishers vnto Pallas.
Iup.
How can it be, but they haue both abus'd,
And would (for their ills) make our Iustice guiltie?
Shew them their shames, Minerua: what the yong world
In her vnstable youth did then produce:
She should grow grauer now, more sage, more wise,
Know Concord, and the harmony of goodnesse:
But if her old age strike with harsher notes,
We may then thinke she is too old, and dotes,
Strike by white Art, a Theomanticke power,
Magick Diuine, not the Diuels horror,
But the delicious Musique of the Spheares,
The thrice three Worthies summon back to life:
There let vm see what artes and Armes commixt
(For they had both) did in the worlds broad face
Those that did propagate and beget their fames,
And (for posteritie) left lasting names.
Pall.
I shall, great Iupiter.
Musique and this Song as an Inuocation to the nine Muses; (who in the time) are discouer'd on the vpper Stage, plac'd by the nine Worthies, and toward the conclusion descend, each one led by a Muse, the most proper and pertinent to the person of the Worthy, as Therpsichore with Dauid; Vrania, with Ioshua, &c.
After the Song Pallas describes them: Then daunce and Exeunt.
The first Song.
Mvses, Vsher in those states,
And amongst 'vm choose your mates,
There wants not one, nor one to spare,
Learnings Mistris, faire Caliope,
Loude Euterpe, sweet Therpsichore,
Soft Thalia, sad Melpomine,
Pleasant Clio, large Eratho,
High aspiring eyde Vrania,
Hony-lingued Polihymnia;
Leaue awhile your Thespian Springs,
And vsher in those more then Kings:
We call them Worthies, 'tis their due,
Though long time dead, still liue by you.
Enter at the three seuerall doores, the nine Worthies, three after three, whom (as they enter) Pallas describes.
Pall.
These three were Hebrewes,
This Noble Duke was he, at whose command
Hiperion rein'd his fierie Coursers in,
And fixed stood ouer Mount Gilboa,
This Mattathias sonne, the Macchabee,
Vnder whose arme no lesse then Worthies fell.
This the most sweet and sacred Psalmograph,
These of another sort, of much lesse knowledge,
Little lesse valour, a Macedonian borne,
Whom afterwards the world could scarcely beare,
For his great weight in Conquest, this Troy's best souldiour;
This Romes first Cæsar; these three of latter times,
And to the present more familiar.
Great Charles of France, and the braue Bulloine Duke,
And this is Brittaines glory, King'd thirteene times.
Ye'aue faire aspects, more to expresse Ioues power,
Shew you haue motion for a Iouiall houre.
Iup.
Were not these presidents for all future ages?
Schol.
But none attaines their glories (King of Starres:)
These are the fames are follow'd, and pursu'd,
But neuer ouertaken.
Iup.
The Fates below,
The gods armes are not shorten'd, nor doe we shine
With fainter influence; who conquers now,
Makes it his Tyrants Prize, and not his Honors,
Abusing all the blessings of the gods.
Learnings and Arts are Theories, no practiques;
To vnderstand is all they studie too:
Men striue to know too much, too little doe.
Enter Time.
Sould.
Plaints are not ours alone (great Iupiter.)
See, Time himselfe comes weeping.
Time.
Who ha's more cause?
Who more wrong'd then Time? Time passes all men
With a regardlesse eye, at best, the worst
Expect him with a greedy appetite.
The landed Lord lookes for his Quarter day,
The big-bellied Vsurer for his teeming gold
That brings him forth the child of Interest:
He that beyond the bounds of heauens large blessing,
Hath made a fruitlesse creature to increase:
Dull earthen Minerals to propagate,
These onely doe expect and entertaine me:
But (being come) they bend their plodding heads,
And while they count their baggs, they let me passe,
Yet instant wish me come about agen.
Would Time deserue their thankes, or Ioue their praise,
He must turne Time onely to Quarter dayes.
The Lawyer driues me off from Terme to Terme,
Bids me (and I doo't) bring forth my Alathæ
My poore child Truth, he sees, and will not see her:
What I could manifest in one cleere day,
He still delayes a cloudy Iubile.
The Prodigall wastes, and makes me sick with surfets:
The Drunkard (strong in Wine) trips vp my heeles,
And sets me topsie-turuy, on my head,
Waking my silent passage in the night
With Reuels, noise, and Thunder-clapping oathes,
And snorting on my bright Meridian,
And when they thinke I passe too slowly by:
They haue a new-found vapour to expell me,
They smoke me out: aske vin but why they doo't,
And he that worst can speake, yet this can say,
I take this whiffe to driue the Time away.
Oh, but the worst of all, women doe hate me:
I cannot set impression on their cheekes
With all my circular houres, dayes, months, and yeeres,
But 'tis wip'd off with glosse and pensilrie,
Nothing so hatefull, as gray haires and Time;
Rather no haire at all; 'tis sinnes Autumne now:
For those faire Trees that were more fairer cropt,
Or they fall of themselues, or will be lopt:
Euen Time it selfe (to number all his griefes)
Would waste himselfe vnto his ending date:
How many would eternitie wish heere,
And that the Sunne, and Time, and Age might stand
And leaue their Annuall distinction,
That nature were bed-rid, all motion sleepe?
Time hauing then such foes, ha's cause to weepe.
Redresse it Iupiter.
Exit Time.
Iup.
I tell thee, glorious Daughter: and you things:
His age of happinesse; blessed times ownde him,
Till those two vgly ills, Deceit, and Pride,
Made it a perisht substance: Pride brought in
Forgetfulnesse of goodnesse, Merit, Vertue,
And plac'd ridiculous Officers in life;
Vaine-glory, Fashion, Humour, and such toyes
That shame to be produc'd.
The phrenzie of Apparell, that's runne mad,
And knowes not where to settle Masculine painting;
And the fiue Starches, mocking the fiue Sences,
All in their diff'rent and ridiculous colours,
Which for their apish and fantastique follies,
I summon to make odious, and will fit vm
With flames of their owne colours.
Musicke striking vp a light fantasticke Ayre, these 5. Starches afore summon'd come dancing in, and after a ridiculous Straine, White-Starch challenging precedency, standing vpon her right by Antiquity, out of her iust anger presents their pride to vm.
These 5. Starches, White, Blue, Yellow, Greene and Red, all properly habited to expresse their affected colours.
Enter the fiue Starches.
White-Starch.
What, no respect amongst you? must I wake you
In your forgetfull duties? iet before me?
Take place of me? you rude presumptuous gossip:
'Pray who am I? not I the primitiue Starch?
You blew-eyde Frokin, lookes like fire and brimstone;
You Cawdle-colour, much of the complexion
Of high Shroue-Tuesday Batter, yallow-hammer:
And you my Tanzy face, that shewes like Pride,
Seru'd vp in Sorrill sops, greene Sicknesse baggage:
And last, thou Red Starch, that wear'st all thy blushes
With all thy bloud settled about thy necke,
The Ensigne of thy shame, if thou hadst any;
Know, I'me Starch Protestant, thou Starch Puritane
With the blew nostrill, whose tongue lies i' thy nose.
Blew Star.
Wicked interpretation!
Yell. Star.
I ha known a white-fac't hyppocrite, Lady Sanctity,
A Yellow ne'r came neere her, and sh'as beene
A Citizens wife too, starcht like Innocence;
But the Diuels pranks not vglier: In her minde
Weares Yellow, huggs it, if her husbands trade
Could beare it, there's the spite: but since she cannot
Weare her owne linnen Yellow; yet she shewes
Her loue too't, and makes him weare Yellow hose.
I am as stiffe i' my opinion
As any Starch amongst you.
Green. Star.
I, as you.
Red Star.
And I as any.
Blew Star.
I scorne to come behinde.
Yell Star.
Then conclude thus:
When all mens seuerall censures, all the Arguments
The world can bring vpon vs, are applyde;
The sinne's not i' the colour, but the pride.
All.
Oracle Yellow.
The Straches Dance, and Exeunt.
Iup.
These are the youngest Daughters of deceit,
With which the precious time of life's beguil'd,
Fool'd, and abus'd; Ile shew you straight their Father,
His shapes, his labours, that has vext the world
From age to age, and tost it from his first and simple state,
To the foule Center where it now abides;
Looke back but into Times, heere shall be showne,
How many strange Remooues the world has knowne.
Musicke.
Enter Simplicity.
Pall.
Who's this, great Iupiter?
Iup.
Simplicity: hee that had first possession; one that stumbled
vpon the world, and neuer minded it.
Simpl.
Hah, hah! Ile goe see how the World lookes since I stept
aside from't, there's such heauing and shouing about it, such toyling
and moyling; now I stumbled vpon't when I least thought on't.
'Vds me, 'tis alterd of one side since I left it: hah, there's a Milke-maid
got with childe since, me thinks; what, and a Shepheard for sworne
himselfe? heere's a foule corner: by this light, Subtilty has laid an
egge too, and will go nye to hatch a Lawyer; this was well foreseen:
Ile marre the fashion on't; so, the egg's broke, and 'tas a yolke as
black as buckrom; Whats heere a this side? Oh, a dainty world;
heere's one a sealing with his tooth, and poore man hee has but one
in all, I was affraid hee would haue left it vpon the paper, hee was so
honestly earnest; heere are the Reapers singing: Ile lay mine eare
to 'em:
Enter Deceit like a Ranger.
Deceit.
Yonder's Simplicity whom I hate deadly,
H'as held the world too long; hee's but a foole,
A toy will coozen him: if I once fasten on't,
Ile make it such a Nurcery for Hell,
Planting black Soules in't, it shall ne'r be fit
For honesty to set her simples in.
Simpl.
Whop! Heere's the coozningst Rascall in a Kingdome,
The Master villaine, h'as the thunders property,
For if he come but neere the Haruest folkes,
His breath's so strong, that he sowres all their bottles,
If hee should but blow vpon the world now, the staine would neuer
get out agen: I warrant, if hee were ript, one might finde a
swarme of Vsurers in his liuer, a cluster of Scriueners in his kidneys,
and his very puddings stuft with Bayliffes.
Decei.
I must speake faire to the Foole.
Simpl.
He makes more neere me.
Decei.
Lasse, who has put that load? that carriage
On poore Simlcity? had they no mercy?
Pretty, kind, louing worme; come, let me helpe it.
Simpl.
Keepe off, and leaue your cogging; foh, how abominably
he smells of controuersies, Schismes and Factions! me thinkes, I
smell forty Religions together in him, and ne'r a good one;—his
eyes looke like false lights, coozening trap-windowes.
Decei.
The world, sweet heart, is full of cares and troubles,
No match for thee, thou art a tender thing,
A harmelesse quiet thing, a gentle foole,
Fit for the fellowship of Ewes and Rammes:
Goe, take thine ease and pipe; giue me the burthen,
The clog, the torment, the heart-breake, the world;
Heere's for thee, Lambe, a dainty Oaten Pipe.
Simpl.
Poxe a your pipe; if I should dance after your pipe, I
should soone dance to the Diuell.
Decei.
I thinke, some serpent sure has lickt him ouer,
And giuen him only craft enough to keepe,
And go no farther with him; all the rest
Is innocence about him, truth and bluntnesse.
I must seeke other course; for I haue learn'd
Of my Infernall Sire, not to be lazy,
Faint or discourag'd at the tenth repulse:
Me thinks that world Simplicity now huggs fast,
Do's looke as if't should be Deceit's at last.
Exit.
Simpl.
So, so, I'me glad hees vanisht: me thought I had much
adoe to keep my selfe from a smatch of knauery, as long as he stood
by me; for certainly villany is infectious, and in the greater person
Citizen, may take the scab of a Courtier. Harke, the Reapers begin
to sing, they'r come neerer me thinks too.
[Reapers.]
The second Song.
Happy times wee liue to see,
Whose Master is Simplicity:
This is the age where blessings flow,
In ioy we reape, in peace wee sow;
Wee doe good deeds without delay,
Wee promise and wee keepe our day,
Wee loue for vertue, not for wealth,
Wee drinke no healths, but all for health,
Wee sing, wee dance, wee pipe, wee play,
Our work's continuall Holiday,
Wee liue in poore contented sort,
Yet neither beg, nor come at Court,
Simpl.
These Reapers haue the merriest liues, they haue musicke
to all they doe; they'l sow with a Tabor, and get Children with
a Pipe.
Enter King and Deceit.
Decei.
Sir, hee's a foole, the world belongs to you,
Y'are mighty in your worth and your command,
You know to gouerne, forme, make lawes, and take
Their sweet and precious penalty, it befits
A mightinesse like yours, the world was made
For such a Lord as you, so absolute
A Maiesty in all Princely noblenes
Rusty or lazy in a Fooles preheminence,
It is not for a glorious worth to suffer.
King.
Thou'st said enough.
Decei.
Now my hope ripens fairely.
Simpl.
Heer's a braue glistring Thing looks me ith' face,
I know not what to say too't.
Kin.
What's thy name?
Sim.
You may read it in my lookes: Simplicity.
Kin.
What mak'st thou with so great a charge about thee?
Resigne it vp to me, and be my Foole.
Simp.
Troth that's the way to be your Foole indeed;
But shall I haue the priuiledge to foole freely?
Kin.
As euer Folly had.
Simpl.
I'me glad I'me rid on't.
Decei.
Pray let me ease your Maiesty.
Kin.
Thou? hence
Base Sycophant, insinuating hell-hound,
Lay not a finger on it, as thou lou'st
The state of thy whole body; all thy filthy
And rotten flatteries stinke i' my remembrance,
And nothing is so loathsome as thy presence.
Simpl.
Sure this will proue a good Prince.
Decei.
Still repulst?
I must finde ground to thriue on.
Exit Deceit.
Simpl.
Pray remember now,
You had the world from me cleane as a pick,
Only a little smutted a one side,
With a bastard got against it, or such a toy,
No great corruption nor oppression in't,
No knauery, tricks, nor coozenage.
Kin.
Thou saist true, foole, the world has a cleere water.
Simpl.
Make as few Lawes as you can then to trouble it, the fewer
the better; for alwaies the more lawes you make, the more knaues
Kin.
Thou'st counsell i' thee too.
Simpl.
A little against knauery, I'me such an enemy too't,
That it comes naturally from me to confound it.
Kin.
Looke, what are those?
Simpl.
Tents, Tents; that part oth'world
Shewes like a Faire: but pray take notice on't,
There's not a Bawdy-Boothe amongst 'em all,
You haue 'em white and honest as I had 'em,
Looke that your Laundresses pollute 'em not.
Kin.
How pleasantly the Countries lye about,
Of which wee are sole Lord: whats that ith' middle?
Simpl.
Lookes like a point, you meane a very prick?
Kin.
I, that, that.
Simpl.
'Tis the beginning of Amsterdam: they say the first brick
there was laid with fresh Cheese and Creame; because morter made
of Lime and hayre was wicked, and committed fornication.
Enter a Land-Captaine and Deceit as a Soldier.
Kin.
Peace, who are these approching?
Simpl.
Blustering fellowes; the first's a Soldier, hee looks iust
like March.
Decei.
Captaine, 'tis you that haue the bloudy sweats,
You venture life and limmes 'tis you that taste
The stings of thirst and hunger,
L. Capt.
There thou hast namde
Afflictions sharper then the enemies swords.
Decei.
Yet lets another carry away the World,
Of which, by right, you are the only Master,
Stand curtsing for your pay at your returne
Perhaps with woodden legs to euery Groome
That dares not look full right vpon a sword,
Nor vpon any wound, or slit of honor?
L. Cap.
No more, Ile be my selfe; I that vphold
And be propt vp with part of mine owne strength,
The least part too? Why, haue not I the power
To make my selfe stand absolute of my selfe,
That keepe vp others?
Kin.
How cheeres our noble Captaine?
L. Cap.
Our owne Captaine,
No more a hireling; your great Foe's at hand,
Seeke your defence elsewhere, for mine shall faile you,
Ile not be fellow-yoak't with death and danger
All my life time, and haue the World kept from me,
March in the heate of Summer in a bath,
A furnace girt about me, and in that agony,
With so much fire within me, forc'd to wade
Through a coole riuer, practising in life
The very paines of hell, now scorcht, now shiuering,
To call diseases early into my bones,
Before I'ue age enough to entertaine 'em:
No, he that has desire to keepe the World,
Let him ee'n take the sowre paines to defend it.
Kin.
Stay, Man of Merit, it belongs to thee,
I cheerefully resigne it, all my Ambition
Is but the quiet calme of peacefull dayes;
And that faire good, I know, thy arme will raise.
L. Cap.
Though now an absolute master; yet to thee
Euer a faithfull seruant.
Decei.
Giue't me sir to lay vp, I am your Treasurer,
In a poore kinde.
Exit King.
L. Cap.
In a false kinde I grant thee:
How many vilde complaints from time to time
Has beene put vp against thee? they haue wearied me
More then a Battell sixteene houres a' fighting,
I'ue heard the ragged Regiment so curse thee,
I look't next day for Leprosie vpon thee,
When thou wouldst drop asunder, like a thing
Inwardly eaten, thy skin only whole:
Auaunt, defrauder of poore soldiers rights,
Campe-Caterpiller, hence; or I will send thee
To make their rage a breakfast.
Decei.
Is it possible?
Can I yet set no footing in the World?
I'm angry, but not weary; Ile hunt out still:
For, being Deceit, I beare the Diuels name,
And he's known seldome to giue ore his game.
Exit Deceit.
Simpl.
Troth, now the World begins to bee in Hucksters
handling; by this light, the Boothes are full of Cutlers, and yonders
two or three queanes going to vittaile the campe: hah, would I
were whipt, if yonder be not a Parsons daughter with a soldier betweene
her legs, bag and baggage.
Sold.
Now 'tis the Soldiers time, great Iupiter,
Now giue me leaue to enter on my fortunes,
The Worlds our owne.
Iup.
Stay, beguild thing, this time
Is many ages discrepant from thine,
This was the season when desert was stoopt to,
By greatnesse stoopt to, and acknowledg'd greatest;
But in thy time now, desert stoopes it selfe
To euery basenesse, and makes Saints of Shadowes:
Be patient, and obserue, how times are wrought,
Till it comes downe to thine that rewards naught.
Chamber shot off: Enter a Sea-Captaine and Deceit as a Purser.
Omnes.
Hah? what's the newes?
Sea Cap.
Be ready if I call to giue fire to the Ordnance.
Simpl.
Blesse vs all', herre's one spits fire as hee comes, hee
will goe nye to mull the world with looking on it, how his eyes
sparckle?
Shall the Land-Captaine, sir, vsurpe your right,
Yours that try thousand dangers to his one,
Rocks, shelues, gulfs, quick-sands, hundred hundred horrors,
That makes the Land-men tremble when th'are told;
Besides the enemies encounter,
Sea Cap.
Peace Purser, no more, I'm vext, I'm kindled.
You, Land Captaine, quick, deliuer.
L. Cap.
Proud Salt-Rouer, thou hast the salutation of a theefe.
Sea Cap.
Deliuer, or Ile thunder thee a pieces,
Make night within this houre, e'en at high noone,
Belch't from the Canon: dar'st expostulate
With me? my fury? What's thy merit, Land-worme,
That mine not centuples?
Thy lazy Marches and safe-footed battailes
Are but like dangerous dreames to my encounters:
Why, euery minute the Deepe gapes for me,
Beside the fiery throats of the loud fight,
When we go too't, and our fell Ordnance play,
'Tis like the figure of a latter day.
Let me but giue the word, night begins now,
Thy breath and prize both beaten from thy body:
How dar'st thou be so slow? Not yet—then—
L. Cap.
Hold.
Decei.
I knew 'twould come at last.
Sea Cap.
For this resigne,
Part thou shalt haue still, but the greatest mine.
Only to vs belongs the golden sway,
Th' Indies load vs; thou liu'st but by thy pay.
Decei.
And shall your Purser helpe you?
Sea Cap.
No in sooth Sir,
Coward and coozner; how many Sea-Battels
Hast thou compounded to be cabled vp?
Yet when the fights were ended, who so ready
To cast sick soldiers and dismembred wretches,
With things without Armes; 'tis an ougly sight;
When troth thine own should haue been off by right:
But thou lay'st safe within a wall of hempe,
Telling the guns, and numbring 'em with farting:
Leaue me, and speedily; Ile haue thee ram'd
Into a Culuerin else, and thy reare flesh
Shot all into potcht eggs.
Decei.
I will not leaue yet;
Destruction playes in me such pleasant straines,
That I would purchase it with any paines.
Exit Deceit.
Sea Cap.
The motion's worthy, I will ioyne with thee,
Both to defend and enrich Maiesty.
Simpl.
Hoyda! I can see nothing now for ships;
Harke a the Mariners.
The Mariners Song.
Hey, the World's ours, we haue got the time by chance;
Let vs thē carouse & sing, for the very house doth skip and dance
That we doe now liue in:
Wee haue the merriest liues,
Wee haue the fruitfulst Wiues
Of all men.
Wee neuer yet came home,
But the first houre we come,
We finde them all with childe agen.
A shout within: then, Enter two Mariners with Pipe and Can dancing seuerally by turnes, for ioy the World is come into their hands, then Exeunt.
Simpl.
What a crue of mad Raskalls are these, they'r ready at
euery Can to fall into the Haddocks mouthes, the World begins to
loue Lappe now.
Flam.
Peace and the brightnesse of a holy loue,
Reflect their beauties on you.
Sea Cap.
Whos this?
L Capt.
A Reuerend shape.
Sea Cap.
Some Scholler.
L. Capt.
A diuine one.
Sea Cap.
He may be what he will for me, fellow Captaine;
For I haue seene no Church these fiue and twenty yeares;
I meane as people ought to see it, inwardly.
Flam.
I haue a vertuous sorrow for you Sir,
And 'tis my speciall duty to weepe for you.
For to enioy one world as you doe there,
And be forgetfull of another Sir;
Oh, of a better millions of degrees!
It is a frailty and infirmity
That many teares must go for; all too little.
What is't to be the Lord of many battels,
And suffer to be ouer-run within you?
Abroad to conquer, and be slaues at home,
Remember theres a battell to be fought,
Which will vndoe you, if it be not thought.
And you must leaue that World, leaue it betimes,
That reformation may weepe of the crimes:
There's no indulgent hand the World should hold,
But a strict graspe, for making sinne so bold.
We should be carelesse of it, and not fond,
Of things so held, there is the best command.
Sea-Capt.
Graue Sir, I giue thy words their deseru'd honour,
And to thy Sacred charge freely resigne,
All that my Fortune, and the Age made mine.
Simpl.
If the world be not good now, 'twill ne'r be good,
Theres no hope on't.
Dec.
I haue my wishes heere, my sanctified Patron,
Then theres a secret Vault for Great mens Legacies.
Flam.
Art not confounded yet? strucke blinde or crippled,
For thy abusiue thought, thou horrid hypocrite?
Are these the fruits of thy long Orisons
Three houres together, of thy nine Lectures weekely,
Thy sowning at the hearing of an oath,
Scarce to be fetcht agen? Away, depart,
Thou white-fac't Diuell, Author of Heresie,
Schismes, Factions, Controuersies: now I know thee
To be Deceit it selfe, wrought in by Simony,
To blowe corruption vpon Sacred vertue.
Dec.
I made my selfe sure here. Church faile me too?
I thought it meere impossible by all reason,
Since theres so large a bridge to walke vpon
'Twixt negligence and Superstition.
Where could one better piece vp a full vice?
One seruice lazy, t'other ouer-nice:
There had beene twixt, roome enough for me.
I will take roote, or runne through each degree. Exit Deceit.
Simpl.
Whoope, here's an alteration: by this hand, the Ships
are all turn'd to Steeples; and the Bels ring for ioy, as if they would
shake downe the Pinacles. How I the Masons are at worke yonder,
the free Masons, I sweare it's a free time for them: Ha! theres one
building of a Chappell of ease: Oh, he's loth to take the paines to
goe to Church: Why, will he haue it in's house, when the Prouerb
sayes, The Diuel's at home? These great rich men must take their ease
i' their Inne: theyle walke you a long mile or two to get a stomack
for their victuals; but not a piece of a furlong to get an appetite to
their prayers.
Flourish. Enter King, a Lawyer, and Deceit, as n Pettifogger.
Law.
No more, the case is cleere.
Simpl.
'Slid, who haue we heere?
He that pleades for the world, must fall
To his businesse roundly, most gracious
And illustrious Prince, thus stands the case:
The world in Greeke is Cosmos, in Latine, Mundus,
In Law-French La monde, we leaue the Greeke,
And come to the Law-French, or glide vpon the Latine,
All's one businesse; then vnde mundus? shall we come to that?
Nonne diriuatur à manditia?
The word cleannesse, Mundus, quasi mundus, cleane,
And what can clense or mundifie the world
Better then Law, the cleerer of all Cases,
The Soueraigne pill or potion that expels
All poysonous, rotten, and infectious wrongs,
From the vext bosome of the Common-wealth?
Theres a familiar phrase implyes thus much,
I'le put you to your purgation; that is,
The Law shall cleanse you: Can the sick world then
Tost vp and downe from time to time, repose it selfe
In a Physicians hand better improu'd?
Vpon my life and reputation,
In all the Courts I come at, be assur'd
Ile make it cleane.
Simpl.
Yes, cleane away, I warrant you, we shall n'er see't agen.
Law.
I grant, my Pils are bitter, I, and costly;
But their effects are rare, Diuine, and holsome,
Theres an Excomunicate Capiendo,
Capias post K. and an Ne exeat Regno.
I grant, theres bitter Egrimony in vm,
And Antimony, I put mony in all still:
And it works preciously, who eiects iniuries,
Makes vm belch forth in vomit but the Law?
Who cleeres the Widdowes case, and after gets her
If she be wealthy: but the Aduocate?—then to conclude,
If you'l haue Mundus, à Mundo, cleane, firme,
Flam.
I part with't gladly, tak't into thy trust,
So will it thriue, as thy intent is iust.
Dec.
Pitie your Trampler, Sir, your poore Sollicites.
Law.
Thee! Infamy to our profession,
Which, without wrong to truth, next the Diuine one,
Is the most graue and honovrable Function
That giues a Kingdome blest: but thou, the poyson,
Disease, that growes close to the heart of Law,
And mak'st rash censurers thinke the sound part perish'd,
Thou fowle Eclipse, that interposing Equity,
As the darke Earth, the Moone, mak'st the world Iudge,
That blacknesse and corruption haue possest
The siluer-shine of Iustice; when tis onely
The smoke ascending from thy poys'nons wayes,
Cos'nage, Demurs, and fifteene Terme-delayes:
Yet hold thee, take the Muck on't, that thine owne,
The Diuell and all; but the faire Fame and honor
Of righteous actions, good mens prayers and wishes,
Which is that glorious portion of the World
The noble Lawyer striues for; that thy bribery,
Thy double-handed gripe shall neuer reach to:
With fat and filthy gaine thy Lust may feast,
But poore mens curses beat thee from the rest.
Decei.
Ile feede vpon the Muck on't, that a while
Shall satisfie my longings, Wealth is knowne
The absolute step to all promotion.
King.
Let this be call'd the Spheare of harmony,
In which being met, lets all moue mutually.
Omnes.
Faire Loue is i'the motion, Kingly loue.
In this last Dance, (as an ease to memory,) all the former Remooues come close together, the Diuell and Deceit ayming at the World, but the World remaining now in the Lawyers possession, expressing his reuerend
Flam.
Times suffer changes, and the world has beene
Vext with Remooues; but when his glorious peace
Firmely and fairely settles, here's his place,
Truth his defence, and Maiestie his grace:
We all acknowledge it belongs to you.
All.
Onely to you, Sir.
They all deliuer the World vp to the King.
Flam.
Regis ad exemplum totus componitur orbis.—Which shewes,
That if the World forme it selfe by the King,
'Tis fit the Former should command the thing.
Decei.
This is no place for vs.
Diuell.
Depart, away,
I thought all these had been corrupted Euils,
No court of Vertues, but a guard of Diuels.
Exeunt Deceit and the Diuell.
K.
How blest am I in Subiects! here are those
That make all Kingdomes happy, worthy Souldier,
Faire Churchman, and thou vncorrupted Lawyer,
Vertues great miracle, that hast redeem'd
All Iustice from her ignominious name.
Simpl.
You forget me, Sir.
K.
What, Simplicitie!
Who thinkes of vertue, cannot forget thee.
Simpl.
I marry, my masters: now it lookes like a braue world,
indeed, how ciuilly those faire Ladies goe yonder! by this hand
they are neither trimm'd nor truss'd, nor ponyarded: Wonderment!
O, yonder's a knot of fine-sharpe-needle-bearded Gallants,
but that they weare Stammell Cloakes (me thinks) in stead of Scarlet:
'Slid, whats hee that carries out two Custards now vnder the
Porters long nose? oh, hee leaues a bottle of Wine i'th Lodge:
K.
Continue but thus watchfull o'r your selues,
That the great cunning Enemies, Deceit
And his too mighty Lord, beguile you not;
And y' are the precious ornaments of State,
The glories of the world, fellowes to vertues,
Masters of honest and well-purchas'd fortunes,
And I am fortunate in your partnership;
But if you euer make your Hearts the houses
Of fals-hood and corruption, vglinesse it selfe
Will be a beauty to you; and lesse pointed at:
Spots in deformed faces, are scarce noted,
Faire cheekes are stainde, if ne'r so little blotted.
All.
Euer the constant seruants to great Vertue.
K.
Her loue inhabit you.
Exeunt.
Iup.
Now sonnes of vexation.
Enuy, and discontent, what blame lay you
Vpon these times now? Which do's merit most
To be condemn'd, your dulnesse, or the Age?
If now you thriue not, Mercury shall proclaime
Y' are vndeseruers, and cry downe your Fame:
Be poore still, Scholler, and thou wretch despis'd,
If in this glorious time thou canst not prosper:
Vpon whose brest Noble employments sit,
By Honors hand, in golden Letters writ:
Nay, where the Prince of Noblenesse Himselfe,
Proues out Minerva's valiant'st hopefull'st Sonne,
And early in his Spring puts Armor on.
Vnite your worth's, and make of two, one brother,
And be each one perfection to the other.
Scholler and Souldier must both shut in one,
That makes the absolute and complete man:
So, now into the World, which if hereafter
You euer tax of foule ingratefull crimes,
Sould.
Scholler, Honour to mighty Iupiter.
Iupiter ascends.
Sould.
The World's in a good hand now, if it hold, brother.
Schol.
I hope for many ages.
Sould.
Fare thee well then,
Ile ouer, yonder to the most glorious VVarres
That e'er famde Christian Kingdome.
Schol.
And I'le settle
Heere, in a Land of a most glorious Peace
That euer made ioy fruitfull: where the Head
Of him that rules, to Learnings faire renowne,
Is doubly deckt with Lawrell, and a Crowne:
And both most worthily.
Sould:
Giue me thy hand:
Prosperitie keepe with thee.
Schol.
And the glory
Of Noble actions bring white haires vpon thee:
Present our wish with reuerence to this Place:
For here't must be confirm'd, or 'tas no grace.
Exeunt seuerally.
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