University of Virginia Library

Scena prima.

Enter Carionil, and Falorus.
Fal.
She has out-gone my belief by't,
I did not think that project would have fail'd;
I cannot speak her.

Car.
The Alpian snow is not more cold.

Fal.
Her disposition is most strange.

Car.
'Twere easier far
To spurn the soultry Cyclops Anvil down,
And kick it thus into Atomes in the air,
Then to obtain her love;
It were, my dear Falorus.

Fal.
O think not so Carionil.

Car.
Have I not cause?

Fal.
At last after a constant and a brave pursuit
She may be won.

Car.
Could I but hope so much,
Did all the stars malignant influences
Threaten fate opposite to my happiness,
I would not deem them worthy my observance,
But persevere till I obtain'd, or fell.

Fal.
Conjecture still the best.

Car.
Tis easier to advise then to perform;
Had you, Falorus, been so oft dismist
Comfortless, scornfully sent away,
By her own lips, (O heavens!) you could not think it.

Fal.
I could and would.

Car.
With hope friend?

Fal.
Yes with an assurance.

Car.
Upon what ground would you build it?

Fal.
Upon a womans frequent dissimulation.
Can you believe, when envious clouds deprive
Your eyes from the suns beams, that it shines not?
In these times young Ladies for a while
Do mantle their affections in dislike:
Let not an ignorance of Virgins wiles
Disturb your noble breast with weak despaire;
Carionil assume a confidence:
Were you inferiour unto her in blood,
Or any whit deform'd, after her nayes
You might suspect the period: but seeing
'Tis known, as noble blood runs through your veins,
And that nature compos'd you in a mould
As excellent as she was form'd in, and
With substance of as beauteous a gloss;
You need not let doubts puzzle you.

Enter above Lucora and Nentis.
Car.
Stay and admire with me; exalt your eyes to happiness.

Fal.
Your Mistress and her Woman, my Carionil.

Car.
Lucora, She's a transcendent of Epithets.

Fal.
I see a Lute: let us escape their sight,
And it is likely we shall hear her sing.

Lucora.
Now give it me. Is it in tune?

Nen.
Yes Madam.

Car.
Forbear awhile to play upon the spheres,
Ye servants to the Deities: the Gods
Will blame you, if your musick keep the ayr
Of her all-ravishing harmony from their eares.


A song.

Car.
How! a votress to Diana,
The heavens forbid that injury to earth.
Had the deceitful Syrens such a voice,
And bodies of so rare a form, I would
Nere come on shipboard, for fear of being drawn
To drown my self by swimming after them.

Nen.
I do not like her Madam.

Luco.
Who ever yet spoke ill of Daphne? fie!
Banish such impious censures from you.

Nen.
Troth, Madam, I should have been glad to a been my Lady Apollo.

Luco.
O rellish more of purity Nentis. Alas, 'tis a fraile comfort can come with a husband.

Nen.
I think otherwise indeed Madam.

Luco.
Be all such thoughts remote from my breast,
My resolution shall be never to marry.

Exeunt.
Car.
Now you have heard her thoughts Falorus.

Fal.
That she disguises not her love you mean.

Car.
True, and I am most miserable.

Fal.
My happy friend you will be.
Tis an ignorant common custome among young ones to do so.

Car.
But she's a fixed star, and cannot move.

Fal.
Fixed in your heart tis likely,
But otherwise I doubt nor do you.

Car.
Y'ave stird a feeble belief within me, Friend,
That the excellent Lucora may be won,
And I will nourish it unto some height.

Fal.
A necessary that none must want, which do
Desire fruition of those whom they wooe.

Enter Jaques.
Car.
O honest Iaques!

Iaq.
My Lady presents her service to your Lordship.

Car.
She is in health I hope.

Iaq.
Very well. And I am glad to see your Honour so, though I say it.

Car.
She is not towards another husband yet?

Iaq.
No certainly.

Car.

Methinks her fortunes should give her a
various choice. You are elsewhere employed I
perceive: remember my best respects unto your
Lady.

Exit Iaques.
Y'ave heard of my cousin Vandona, Falorus?

Fal.
But very little.

Car.

She's the most phantastick piece of woman-kind
I ere chang'd breath with, but a young one,
wealthy, and truly not unhandsome.

Fal.
Lorece does intend to make love unto her.

Car.
Your brother, my Falorus?

Fal.
Yes, so he told me.

Car.
May he obtain her if you wish it.

Fal.
Her estate would make the match a good one.
Enter Cleanthe.
Is this the boy you so commended to me?

Car.
'Tis he, and think him you worthy the praise I gave him.

Clean.
He'l come and wait upon you at night, my Lord.

Car.
'Tis well Anclethe.

Fal.
You spoke him not unto his merits.

Car.
You are beholding to my friend (Ancleth.)

Enter a Page.
Fal.
Your Lord's in health?

Page
And desires to speak with your Lordship,

Fal.
Where may I find him?

Pag.
He'l be at this lodgings these two houres.

Fal.
I'le wait upon him presently.
Exit Page.
I am his servant. Carionil, I must take my leave.

Car.

The Gods go with you. He may be my father
in law, but will not if he can prevent it:
Adieu friend.

Exit Falorus.

O my Anclethe! thou canst not guess the world of
torments I nourish here; I cannot number them
my self, and because I cannot, I fear the Gods
will not.

Clean.
What can you ail my Lord?

Car.
Canst thou imagine me free from misery?

Clea.
Indeed I did.

Car.
No, there's a Lady (she's above all Ladies,
And were she pitiful, I should swear a goddess)
That does deny me happiness.
As thou hast me, Idalian Archer, so
On her use thy eternal stringed bow:
Draw to the head thy shaft, and let it fly;
For love but love there is no remedy.
Exit Car.

Clean.
Wretched Cleanthe! to what a multitude
Of woful sighes my destinies have driven me!
Could all the tears that I abundantly have wept,
But find that recompence I dare not look for,
O they were showers to be belov'd like those
That deck the spring with bravery! Carionil
(For whom I languish in disguise) it seems
Hath setled his affections on a Lady
Does not return him love. May she continue
Obstinate ever: but I must blame her judgement,
Who can behold a man (with all the art
Of nature) fram'd to curiosity,
And heare the world report his vertues equal
Unto his form, and not admire and love him.

Enter Lorece.
Lore.

Now my young sweet face! what pretty
foolish whimsies trouble thy pate, that thou lookest
so composedly?

Clea.

Sir, I am as I use to be.

Lore.

Then you use to be scurvy. Use the Tavern
once or twice a day. You must not be so melancholy.

Clean.

It best becomes me.

Lore.

Canst thou swear?

Clean.

The Gods forbid.

Lore.

Canst thou sing.

Clean.

Not worth your hearing Sir.

Lore.

Say'st thou so! Then will I something
worth thine.

Cle.

Y'are not melancholy Sir, your brother is
more solemn.

Core.

I melancholy! I scorne it boy. Yet I'me not
so merry as I was wont, the young gunner Mr. Cupid
had somewhat tam'd me: but I am good mettle still
(thank my jovial fates) and will sound melodiously,
my young Paris.

Enter Jaques.

Welcome to Hercules noble Theseus. Good boy,
Go wait on thy master.

Exit Cleanthe.

How do'st, thou old magazine of precious knavery?

Iaq.

I am glad to see your Worship well.

Lore.

My noble milner of words, thou that dost
grind thy speeches with a merry pronunciation, wilt
be my bosome, my cabinet, my friend Iaques?

Iaq.

I will obey your good Worship.

Lore.

Liberally spoken! when I have opened me,
will you be privy?

Iaq.

Very secret and officious: it is good manners
in me, your command shall wedge my tongue,
hedge my heart, and tye a true lovers knot upon it
with the strings of it.

Lore.

Thou art an honest clod of earth, Iaques.
Tis pity the malicious sun-shine warm'd thee not
into a diamond.

Iaques.

Your Worship speakes above my brains.

Lore.

I am marvellously enamour'd on your Lady,
Iaques. Vandona is my Mistris.

Iaq.

Wonderful news! Is my Lady your Worships
sweet-heart?

Lore.

Yes. But ignorant of my affection yet.

Iaq.

I could be drunk were you my Master, Sir.

Lore.

I would have a Wine-cellar o'th purpose.
My estate Iaques is but mean: It must be craft
must get her: Knowest thou any possible way to
win her?

Iaq.

Sir, I am passing empty of invention, but
wherein I can pleasure you, tell me at any time,
and I will not fail you. But the Gods bless your good
Worship: Sir, would you marry her?

Lore.

Yes my old trusty Perithous. Why dost
wonder at it?

Iaq.

She does nothing all day but read little
Comedies, and every night spends two or three hours
on a great Tragedy of a merry fellow Dametas, and
a company of strange-nam'd learned Lovers, she's
no more houswife then you or I Sir, on my own
proper knowledge, I swear, vow and protest it.

Lore.

Thou art too earnest my old-fac'd Saturn,
I think her not the worse woman. Houswifery is the
superficies of a genteel female, and the Parenthesis
of a Lady, which may well be left out.

Iaq.

You are a Scholar, your bookship shall direct
me.

Enter Phyginois.
Lore.

Who's that? knowest thou him Iaques?
He walkes corantoly, and looks big.

Iaq.

And like your Worship, this tide first brought
him to my eyes.

Lore.
He came not by water, did he old Boy?

Iaq.
I meant Time Sir, the London word.

Phy.
When we this passion into us receive,
Our former pleasures we do loath and abandon:

Iaq.
Leave, by your leave.

Phy.
If it were foolishness in us to take
Affection, why did heaven two sexes compose?

Iaq.
Make, would make Rhime.

Phy.
Why Period to the Phœnix doth fire give,
But because it doth against nature consist?

Iaq.

Live, he should say. This is some very smal
Poet.

Phy.
Ile on, and am resolved to preferre
My life to be a service unto her.

Lore.
What an affected utterance has this fellow!

Iaq.

He'l nere make good Ballad warrant him,
that will not rhime when he may.

Lore.

The Catastrophe was in rhime though. He
would be lik'd for a stage Poet.

Phy.

Noble Heroes! the Gods extend your fortunes
to your thoughts.

Lore.

An Academical Idiome: enquire his name
Iaques, he delivers his mind after the garb of a
Signior.

Iaq.

Have you a name friend?

Phy.

I answer to Draculemyon.

Iaq.

Good Sir, let's trudge hence; this is some
great Conjurer.

Lore.

Are you a Necromancer?

Iaq.

Mr. Lorece, I fear he is some Saracen, he
looks so dismal.

Lore.

Art thou a Panim, speak?

Iaq.

For all your great looks Termegant is an Idol.

Phy.

I am nor one nor other, but your Honours vassall,
and a poor Englishman. Wilt please you to
hear the Musick of Helicon?

Iaq.

Law you now Sir, how one may be deceiv'd! I
believe the whorson is a Fidler. Can you sing
(sirra?) answer me.

Phy.

I am no Fidler; but live by my tongue and legs:
will you hear me (noble Sir) speak a Parnassian
Oration, or see me measure the ground with a
dance?

Lore.

What saiest thou Iaques?

Iaq.

Why now Sir, tis dinner time with my Lady,
and I dare not neglect her, neither will I my own
stomach, and therefore for me he may shew us a
fair pair of heels, and be gone.

Lor.

Well then—spend this for me.

Phy.

Y'are, Sir, the best part of a moralist: you are
most liberal.

Lor.
Come Iaques.

Iaq.
I follow you Sir, farewell goodman Draculemyon.

Phy.
The Gods bless me, there's a name!
Exeunt.
Proceed Phyginois, and be fortunate;
This project will furnish me with mony to cloth me
Both fashionably and rich enough, and then
I dare assail my Nentis with some confidence:
Politick Lovers seldom miss.
Smile heaven upon my plot, that there may be
A crowned Period to my policy.

Exit.