 | The Antipodes |  |
Scene 1.
Blaze, Ioylesse.
To me, and to the City, Sir, you are welcome,
And so are all about you: we have long
Suffer'd in want of such faire Company.
But now that Times calamity has given way
(Thankes to high Providence) to your kinder visits,
We are (like halfe pin'd wretches, that have lain
Long on the plankes of sorrow, strictly tyed
To a forc'd abstinence, from the sight of friends)
The sweetlier fild with joy.
Ioy.
Alas, I bring
Sorrow too much with me to fill one house,
In the sad number of my family.
Bla.
Be comforted good Sir, my house, which now
You may be pleas'd to call your owne, is large
Enough to hold you all; and for your sorrowes,
Is readily at hand: The Doctor's comming,
Who, as by Letters, I advertis'd you,
Is the most promising man to cure your Sonne,
The Kingdome yields; it will astonish you
To heare the mervailes he hath done in cures
Of such distracted ones, as is your sonne,
And not so much by bodily Physicke (no!
He sends few Recipes to th'Apothecaries)
As medicine of the minde, which he infuses
So skilfully, yet by familiar wayes,
That it begets both wonder and delight
In his observers, while the stupid patient
Finds health at unawares.
Ioy.
You speak well of him:
Yet I may feare, my sonnes long growne disease
Is such he hath not met with.
Bla.
Then ile tell you Sir,
He cur'd a Country gentleman, that fell mad
For spending of his land before he sold it:
That is, 'twas sold to pay his debts: All went
That way, for a dead horse, as one would say,
He had not money left to buy his dinner,
Upon that whole-sale day. This was a cause,
Might make a gentleman mad you'll say; and him
It did, as mad as land lesse Squire could bee.
This Doctor by his art remov'd his madnesse,
And mingled so much wit among his braines,
That, by the over-flowing of it meerely,
He gets and spends five hundred pound a yeare now,
As merily as any Gentleman
In Darby shire; I name no man. But this
Was pretty well you'll say.
Ioy.
My sonne's disease
Growes not that way.
Bla.
There was a Lady mad,
I name no Lady: but starke mad she was,
As any in the Country, City, or almost
In Court could be.
How fell she mad?
Bla.
With study;
Tedious and painfull study: And for what
Now can you thinke?
Ioy.
For painting, or new fashions.
I cannot thinke for the Philosophers stone.
Bla.
No, twas to finde a way to love her husband;
Because she did not, and her friends rebuk'd her.
Ioy.
Was that so hard to find if she desir'd it.
Bla.
She was seven years in search of it, & could not,
Though she consum'd his whole estate by it.
Ioy.
Twas he was mad then.
Bla.
No; he was not borne
With wit enough to loose, but mad was she
Untill this Doctor tooke her into cure,
And now she lies as lovingly on a flockebed
With her owne Knight, as she had done on downe,
With many others, but I name no parties,
Yet this was well you'l say.
Ioy.
Would all were well.
Bla.
Then sir, of Officers, and men of place,
Whose sences were so numm'd, they understood not
Bribes from dew fees, and fell on premunires,
He has cur'd diverse, that can now distinguish,
And know both when, and how to take, of both;
And grow most safely rich by't, tother day
He set the braines of an Attorney right,
That were quite topsie turvy overturn'd
In a pitch ore the Barre; so that (poore man)
For many Moones, he knew not whether he
Went on his heeels or's head, till he was brought
To this rare Doctor, now he walkets again,
As upright in his calling, as the boldest
Amongst 'hem. This was well you'l say.
Joy.
Tis much.
Bla.
And then for horne mad Citizens my neighbours,
He cures them by the dozens, and we live
As gently with our wives, as Rammes with Ewes.
Ioy.
We doe you say, were you one of his Patients.
'Slid he has almost catch'd me; No Sir no,
I name no parties I, But wish you merry;
I straine to make you so, and could tell forty
Notable cures of his to passe the time
Untill he comes.
Ioy.
But pray, has he the art
To cure a husbands Iealousie?
Bla.
Mine sir he did: 'Sfoot I am catcht againe.
Ioy.
But still you name no Party, pray how long,
Good master Blaze, has this so famous doctor
Whom you so well set out, beene a professor?
Bla.
Never in publike: Nor indures the name
Of Doctor, though I call him so, but lives
With an odde Lord in towne, that lookes like no Lord,
My Doctor goes more like a Lord then he.
Ex. Doctor.
O welcome sir, I sent mine owne wife for you:
Ha you brought her home againe?
| The Antipodes | |