University of Virginia Library

ACT II

Scene I

[Magus's cottage with the wood and lake in the distance. Enter Devil and takes his station before the cottage door attired in a cap and gown.
DEVIL
The starry fires of yon Chrystalline vault
Are waning, and the airy-footed Night
Will soon withdraw the dismal solitude
Of her capacious pall, wherewith she clouds
Yon mighty and illimitable sky,
Placing a death-like colour in all things,
Monopolizing all the varied Earth
With her dim mantle—
[A pause
Oh! ye eyes of Heaven,
Ye glorious inextinguishable lights,
High blazing mid the lone solemnity
Of night and silence, shall the poor worm, Man,
The creature of this solitary earth,
Presume to think his destiny enroll'd
In your almighty everlasting fires?
Shall this poor thing of melancholy clay,
This lone ephemeris of one small hour,
Proudly suppose his little fate incribed
In the magnificent stars? What have the worlds
Of yon o'er arching Heav'n—the ample spheres
Of never-ending space, to do with Man?
And some romantick visionaries have deem'd
This petty clod the centre of all worlds.
Nay—even the Sun himself, the gorgeous Sun,
Pays homage to it. Ha! Ha! Ha! Poor Man,
Thou summer midge!—Oh, ye shine bravely now
Through the deep purple of the summer sky,
I know that ye are Earths as fair and fairer
And mightier than this I tread upon—
For I have scaled your mountains, to whose cones
Of most inusuperable altitude
This Earth's most glorious Eminences and heights
All pil'd and heap'd upon each other's brows,
And massed and kneaded to one common substance,
Were but a molehill.
And I have swum your boundless seas, whose waves
Were each an ocean of this little orb,
Yet know I not your natures, or if that
Which we call palpable and visible
Is condensation of firm particles.
O suns and spheres and stars and belts and systems,
Are ye or are ye not?
Are ye realities or semblances
Of that which men call real?
Are ye true substance? are ye anything
Except delusive shows and physical points
Endow'd with some repulsive potency?
Could the Omnipotent fill all space, if ye
Or the least atom in ye or the least
Division of that atom (if least can dwell
In infinite divisibility) should be impenetrable?
I have some doubt if ye exist when none
Are by to view ye; if your Being alone
Be in the mind and the intelligence
Of the created? should some great decree
Annihilate the sentient principle
Would ye or would ye not be non-existent?
'Tis a shrewd doubt—
[A sound of footsteps heard
But softly! who comes here?
What stealthy foot invades these secret woods?
Tis some Alcinoüs or Eurymedon
Who haunts this wild and wanton Amoret!
Perchance some smooth-chinn'd Tyro just emerging
From Hobbledehoyhood's twilight, and elated
With the dark sproutings of incipient beard,
Or some sleek monk enveloping the bronze
Of his dark cheek beneath his rusty cowl.
Now will I cloak myself, and thus conceal
This grim, fantastic nose and these wide lips,
That starting shew the black and knotty teeth
That fence my jaws like hedge-stakes (I have lost
Much of original beauty since my fall),
Now will I smooth the harshness of my voice
Into a feminine croak, tuck up my tail,
And thus unsex myself.

[Draws the hood over his face

Scene II

Enter Antonio
ANTONIO
Ye gracious Heav'ns
Is't Amoret, the rosebud of whose cheeks
Is preferable to a suit at Law
Successfully unravell'd—the rich sound
Of whose harmonious and most silver voice
Steals sweeter on mine ear than does the chink
Of golden or of silver boys wrung out
From the hard client's gripe—whose delicate smile
Is worth a ten day's fee? So! here I come
To pay my devoirs at the shrine of beauty.
For this, as soon as e'er the deep-mouth'd voice
Of the most lonely tempest ceas'd to shake
Heaven's pillars of the solid earth, I paced
This wild and marshy wood; for this have burrs
Clung to me as thou seest, more in number
Than cases in the Court of Common Pleas;
For this the drizzly trees and dripping shrubs
Shower'd on me as I hurried past, more thickly
Than diamonds on a birthnight.

DEVIL
(speaking in an undertone)
Gentle Sir,
You overrate yourself. True love had scorn'd
The petty hindrances of wind and weather—
Gods! why a lover is all heat and fire,
A mustard pot, a very pepper-box,
And his internal warmth of temperament
Might guard him from external cold—Ay! though
Thou had'st bolted thro' the very teeth o' the storm
Bareheaded, every gusty drop of Heav'n
Had run off hissing from thy glowing surface,
As from a bar of red hot iron. Believe me,
If thou wert a true lover, wind and rain
Would have no power on thee. 'Twas never known
That one who lov'd most ardently and truly
Was ever laid up for a single se'nnight
With a red nose.

ANTONIO
Now on mine honour—

DEVIL
Prithee,
If thou desirest ought of credit with me,
Most commendable and good Antonio,
Swear not upon thine honour! It is rare
With those of thy most honourable cut,
As is the desert fire-born biped sprung
From its own ashes. If thou swearest, swear
By that thou lovest best.

ANTONIO
Then by my fees—

DEVIL
Ay—there the right nail's struck upon the head.

ANTONIO
Or by thy dearer self—

DEVIL
Now, prithee, lie not,
Keep thy first oath—thy fees are dearer to thee.

ANTONIO
Well, by my fees (that I may honour thee
And put an end to dissertation)
I know a most true lover Leontio,
That hath a nose as red as a skinned eel
Or pickled cabbage steeped in vinegar,
And flaming as a scarlet mailed lobster,
Although he hath a lady in his head.

DEVIL
Then it proceedeth from the warmth within,
Not from the cold without.

ANTONIO
How prove you that,
Fair Amoret? the case is clearly mine,
Let A be then the heart and B the nose,
True love is centre'd in the heart. What then?
It follows that the heat's in A the heart
And not in B in the nose—PROBATUM EST.

DEVIL
Good Sir, the case is this—the lover's heart
Is so o'ercharged with the secret flames
That do consume its melancholy core,
That all the superfluity of love,
And the redundant heat, escaping thence,
Take up their station in the lover's nose
Which thence doth show like beetroot.

ANTONIO
SATIS EST;
A truce to dissertation. Let us use
More soft discussion, gentle paramour.
Gaze all around thee—see yon canopy
Of the eternal boundless Heavens—yon host
Of all the congregated stars—this earth,
This fair green plain of the luxuriant earth—
Breathe, fair one, breathe the soul inspiring air
Full of the all-heavenly incense wafted from
The groves, the fruits, the gaily-blooming flowers,
Which the rough tempest hath but wak'd to beauty
More fresh than heretofore. Is this a time
For disputation? Starlight, incense, flowers,
And two young loving hearts!

DEVIL
Talk not of love,
Thou need'st must wait cessation of the storm—

ANTONIO
What, harping on th'old string again?

DEVIL
Ay, Sirrah,
Did not Leander swim the roaring main,
The boundless Hellespont (as Homer calls it)
On such a dark and dismal night as this was
Half one good hour ago?

ANTONIO
And perish'd too.

DEVIL
Go to—thou art no lover!

ANTONIO
Thou beliest me—
I am an honest, true and proper lover,
A gentle, comely, comfortable lover,
A well-proportion'd and most gracious lover,
As ever woman set her eyes upon.

DEVIL
Thou knowest that my spouse did journey hence
At midnight, yet did'st thou delay thy coming
Until the storm had swept above thine head.

ANTONIO
Inimitable mistress of my heart,
I sate in judgment on my love and judged it,
I issued out a WRIT against my conscience,
And sent a MITTIMUS unto my soul,
I tried and prov'd it thoroughly and found
That it was free from blame—PROBATUM EST
But come, unveil those eyes, whose dazzlingness
Shoots forth more deadly and more certain shafts
Than those the curly-headed Indian sends
By force of breath from out the echoing tube.

DEVIL
'Tis a chill night—I fear the damp—I cannot
Uncloak myself in such wise.

ANTONIO
Will it please you
To enter in?

DEVIL
Proceed! I follow thee.

ANTONIO
Thy deeds do give the lie unto thy tongue,
Thou art as motionless as Lot's wife.

DEVIL
Begone,
On pain of my displeasure—hie thee hence—
I will attend thee in as many moments
As there are peas in a pod or teats upon
The gentle cow's most elegant dugs, or on
Old Alma Mater, which are two or three—
Albeit she hath the credit for some dozens.

[Exit ANTONIO into the Cottage. DEVIL throws up his hood and proceeds

Scene III.

DEVIL
Now, most sweet Sir, I have thee,
Thou shalt repent of thine audacity
Wherewith upheld, thus buoyantly and highly,
Thou spurrest thy desire to lawless deeds
Of bronze-brow'd arrogance, and darest thus
To climb into the solitary fold
Of thy good neighbour, and to cull the fleece
Which he esteemeth best—but I will prove
No tame, submissive, crouching centinel:
But I will take such fearful hold on thee,
As doth the wayward irritable crab
On the poor traveller—thou art thoughtless, young,
Full of high mettled hopes, hot blooded, sanguine,
With haughty self-sufficiency of nature,
Which is the attribute of thy green years
That brook not sober meditation.
Visions of happiness do float before thee,
Gay-gilded figures and most eloquent shapes,
Moulded by Fancy's gentle fingering
To the appearance of reality,
With youthful expectations and fond dreams,
All rendered sunlike by the light of youth,
Which glances on them, flit before thine eyes:
But these shall be pinch'd out of thee ere morn—
There shall be no sound place within thy person;
Thou shalt be all the colours of the rainbow,
With bruises, pinches, weals, ET COETERA;
And various as the motley colour'd slime,
Which floats upon the standing pool, wherein
Do breed all kinds of reptiles—creeping things,
Vile jellies and white spawn and loathsome newts.
But come descend, thou penthouse:
[Draws down his hood
Hither comes
One Pharmaceutus an apothecary,
A mad, drug-dealing, vile apothecary—
A thing of gallipots and boluses,
Lean, lanthorn-jaw'd, splay handed, pasty fac'd,
Hard favour'd and loose-jointed, ill proportion'd,
Whose hips do roll on castors, and whose love
Is nauseous as his physic—Faugh! I know not
How I can keep my character. But here
He comes and brings his fetid atmosphere
About his person.

Scene IV

Enter PHARMACEUTUS.
[Devil]
Welcome, gentle Sir.

PHARMACEUTUS
Welcome, fair lady, may the bloom of joy
And the medicinal virtue of all health
Spread the fair carpet of thy roseate face
With its gay colouring.

DEVIL
(aside).
How cursedly
He stinks of assafœtida. Art cold?
Dost shake and shiver?

PHARMACEUTUS
Marry do I.

DEVIL
What?
Dids't not escape the tempest?

PHARMACEUTUS
No, i'faith,
I am half palsied with frigidity,
I'm below zero, I am perfect ice
Congeal'd to all intents and purposes,
My nose, my ears, and each particular toe,
Will quit their station—hark! my grinders chatter
Like castanets, or fulling mills. Let's in—
And hark ye, some of Magus's brown stout;
I'll smoke a pipe of comfortable shag-tail
By the fireside with thee. Wilt let us in?

DEVIL
Ay, presently.

PHARMACEUTUS
'Sdeath, Madam, instantly!
Or thaw me with a look, a loving look
From the full lustre of thy melting eyes!
'Sblood! thou art hooded and pent up as tightly
As a sea-urchin.

DEVIL
Is't not fitting, prithee?
Dids't thou not talk of nose dropping?

PHARMACEUTUS
Ay, Madam,
The storm hath left a chill i' the air, 'tis damp,
Rheumatic mists are whitening in the marshes,
And pale-fac'd Ague wanders all abroad.
But let us enter; eh?

[Here ANTONIO half opens the cottage door and exclaims
ANTONIO
Where art thou, fair one?

DEVIL
Here, sirrah, with this gentleman!

ANTONIO
(coming forward)
How now!
What! with this scurvy rascal, this poor drug,
This compound of all ugliness, this dog,
This Ipecacuanha, this emetic,
This wall-eyed monster, this anomaly,
This piece of speckled parchment, this vile patchwork,
Whose sallow and carbuncled face resembles
A red design upon a yellow ground?

PHARMACEUTUS
Pills! plasters! powders! poultices! what now!

ANTONIO
Sirrah! I'll knock thy grinders down thy throat.

PHARMACEUTUS
(staggering backwards)
Bole! Borax! Blister! Balsam! Bark! What now?

ANTONIO
Thou hocus-pocus of deformity!
Thou scum! thou outcast of society!

PHARMACEUTUS
Galls! Garlick! ginger! guiacum! what now?

ANTONIO
I'll punch thee into jelly—scatter thee
To the four Winds of Heav'n—thou scarcerow, thou!

DEVIL
Good words—sweet words, Antonio, prithee.

PHARMACEUTUS
Bless thee,
My honey of squills, my oil of almonds, bless thee!
Thou hast a good heart.

ANTONIO
How! you sorry rascal!
Do you make love to the lady?

PHARMACEUTUS
Mercy on us!
The man is mad—he must be blooded.

ANTONIO
How
Do'st prate, thou vile anatomy? Bind up
Thy jaws or by the Devil and his dam
I'll make a gap within thy villainous throat
And pour libations of thy wretched blood
Unto this Goddess. What! thou fulsome scrag!
Would'st thou make love with that untoward chin
Hook'd and turn'd upwards like a Chinese shoe?

PHARMACEUTUS
Beshrew my heart but thou art wondrous mad,
Mad as a March hare, and as hot as Cowhage
Without molasses.

ANTONIO
Hang dog!

DEVIL
Peace, Antonio!
Why, thou art 80, man, by Reaumur's scale,
And more than twice as much by Fahrenheit,
And the unconquerable turbulence
And violent usage of your fiery temper,
Expanded by the heat of passion,
Will burst the tube of temperance. Methinks
I am afraid to look upon you, lest
Your head should part in twain, and thence should issue
The subtle fluid which distends you so.

ANTONIO
Thou fairest excellence of what is most
Excelling in all nature! loveliest mixture
Of all that is most lovely! is it tolerable
That this sad miscreant, this uncouth Behemoth,
Thus monstrous in his vanity of mind,
And loathsome in deformity of person,
Each, render'd still more horrible by each,
When thus contrasted—is it tolerable
That he should raise the base and abject scum
Of his vile thoughts so high, and thus presume
To come within the rich and glorious sphere
Of thine attractions? Fie! it must not be.

DEVIL
Did I not say that thou wert hotly rais'd
By thine inexorable fire of anger
As high as “WATER-BOIL”?

ANTONIO
No—by the Law!
It is but “SUMMER-HEAT.”

DEVIL
I prithee cloak not
Thy faults beneath the colouring of fair names,
Nor modify the wild unevenness
Of thy capricious disposition
With sounds of softest import: for i'faith
Thy Spirits boil at least!

ANTONIO
That fusty wretch
Hath roused them up to fermentation.

PHARMACEUTUS
Sir,
You are as bitter as Alum.

ANTONIO
You, as foul
As your own fœtid pills.

PHARMACEUTUS
And you as brisk
As bottled beer.

ANTONIO
Do you chop logic with me
You dunderhead?

PHARMACEUTUS
Who? I, Sir? No, Sir.

ANTONIO
Sirrah!
If thou presumest to give thy fool's tongue
The damning license of a repartee,
I'll have the substance of thy cursed brains
Pounded and beat up in a red-hot mortar
And with a burning pestle; of thine hide
Will I make ass-skin breeches.

PHARMACEUTUS
Mercy on us!
The man is hypochondriack or hysterical—
Here! here! bring spirits of hartshorn and burnt feathers
And clap hot bricks to's feet!

ANTONIO
I'll knit thee up,
And thou shalt hang in the mid-air as prettily
As a vile cur that sucks hen's eggs, while I
Will sing thy parting elegy, and thou
Shalt beat the due observance of the time
With thy unwieldy toes! Thou shalt be balanc'd
As neatly as a difficult case between
Two able pleaders!

DEVIL
Fie, Antonio, fie!
Excess of violence becomes thee not,
It sits as ill upon thy shoulders as
Love on an old maid with a hump-back.

ANTONIO
Or
On this same Pharmaceutus. Ha! ha! ha!

PHARMACEUTUS
Now by Hippocrates, by Galen, Celsus
And the great Boerhaave—the dazzling sun
And star of Medical science—I do think
Thy wits are on the turn. Let's feel thy pulse,
Is't feverish or low? Give me a fleshbrush
That I may rub thee into sense—

ANTONIO
How now!
Thou most illiterate whelp, thou bristly cub,
Whom thy great Mother Bear hath never lick'd
To ought that may be called proportion!
Why! thou dead idiot, woulds't thou thus behave
As I were mad? in troth and faith I were so
If I should bear with thee. I should deserve
Commission of lunacy preferr'd against me
By the Lord Mayor.

PHARMACEUTUS
Fair Sir, I do presume
That you have heard the useful apothegm
That “Anger is short madness.”

ANTONIO
Villainous wretch—

PHARMACEUTUS
Here! pills of aloes! rhubarb! spanish soap!

ANTONIO
Would'st thou not madden ought beneath the sun
With thine accursed clucking?

PHARMACEUTUS
Gentle Sir,
Be not enraged—the stormy voice of wrath,
The lifting of the hand, the clenched fist,
And the wild glare of the tumultuous eye,
The broken interrupted words, which sound
Hollowly, like a bruis'd tin-kettle

ANTONIO
Oaf!

PHARMACEUTUS
Th'inflation of the fiery cheeks, blown up
With wind of idle passion, whence proceeds
The flushing of the face like the red clouds
Upon a blowy morning—

ANTONIO
Loon!

DEVIL
Be still,
Antonio, let us hear him out.

PHARMACEUTUS
All these
Betoken anger which is madness. These
Disorder all the animal functions, these
Puzzle the progress of the chyle and hurt
The process of digestion.

ANTONIO
Curses on thee!
When the next sessions sit, i' faith I'll have thee
Indicted for a publick nuisance to
His Majesty's loving subjects.

PHARMACEUTUS
Now, by Galen,
Thou art as fine a subject for Phlebotomy
As ever came to my inspection.
I prithee let me breathe a vein, 'twill do thee
An ample service.
[Here ANTONIO raises his fist to strike him
No—no—not the hand!
I never bleed there, look ye, here's my instrument,
The neck, the nape o' th'neck, Sir!

ANTONIO
The grim'd Imps
Of Hell arrest thee at the Devil's suit!
The red fiend ride thee into Chancery,
Which is the worst curse I can vent upon thee!

DEVIL
A most ungentlemanly wish, Antonio,
Deserving objurgation—A propos,
The Devil is an ill thing to be jested with;
What if he should be standing by thee now,
Speaking as I do—dress'd as I am? What
If HIS TENEBRIOUS BITUMENSHIP
Should be in hearing o' thee?

ANTONIO
Why, my Amoret,
Thou art an angel and he dare not venture—

DEVIL
A fallen one, I grant ye.

ANTONIO
If a fallen one,
So many sparks of thine ethereal nature
Yet linger round thee as to make thy presence
A portion of the Heaven thou hast fallen from.

DEVIL
Older and wiser, my good counsellor,
An hour may change thy humour.

ANTONIO
Ay, the section
Of one small minute (if 'twere spent with thee)
Nay, the minutest point of time in which
The inconceivable velocity
Of light can travel thro' one barley-corn
Of the blue Ether, were enough to raise me
(Providing always it were spent with thee)
From out my present humour, which is that
Of the strong sea when in its ridg'd advance
Bruised by the inroad of a vassal river,
Or an enchaféd plaintiff face to face
With the defendant.

DEVIL
In the mind of youth
And pertinacious inexperience
A hasty judgment sheweth like green fruit!
The more unripe and immature it be,
The harder clings it to its parent bough.

ANTONIO
Thou art the first o' thy sex that e'er found fault with
The judgment of that man who call'd thee “Angel.”
I am immutable in nothing, save
The love I bear thee—but behold who is't
Comes swaggering hither? Why, what wants he here?
Methinks he seems a sailor by his swing;
His hat is cocked obliquely on his brow,
One eye is null and void or shut in waggery,
The never failing tokens of a rascal—
His arms are fix'd a kimbo, his left cheek
Protruded by a quid—what varlet's this?
Why wends he hither?

Scene VI

Enter STEPHANIO.
STEPHANIO
Blood and thunder, messmates,
It seems I've run aground here.

ANTONIO
True!

PHARMACEUTUS
Ay, true!

ANTONIO
How! dost thou stand in bodily fear of us?

STEPHANIO
No, by the Devil and his dam!

DEVIL
(aside)
That's I
And mother Hecate.

ANTONIO
How is then thy case
So ruinous and unwholesome?

STEPHANIO
Split my timbers!
Thou art a lawyer and thus ruinous,
And thou a nauseous apothecary,
And thus unwholesome. Why! we sailors call
Our sharks, sea-lawyers, and our lump fish, doctors.
Have I run foul of ye? how got ye first
Ahead o' me? Why! I came cutting hither
With a fresh breeze i' my stern.

ANTONIO
With what intent?

STEPHANIO
Bound from the cape of hope to th'port of love,
To win the prize in yon rich galleon there.

ANTONIO
What! can the heavenly essence of high love
And all the little tendernesses, which
Make up the catalogue of love, inhabit
Such tenement as that thy breast affords?
Why, art thou bona fide then in love?

STEPHANIO
I tell thee, fellow, I'm half drown'd in love.

ANTONIO
I'faith! I see that thou art half seas over.

STEPHANIO
How! you landlubber, do you banter me?
My senses are all founder'd in deep love,
My cables rotted and my timbers beaten
In by the force of love!

ANTONIO
And wilt thou place
Thy claim in opposition to mine?
Oyer and terminer! what misdemeanour
Wilt thou be guilty of?

STEPHANIO
And who art thou?
Thou cock-boat—thou poor cock-boat—thou mere shallop
Varnished and painted, whose weak delicate planks
Would shrink beneath a cap full o' wind!

PHARMACEUTUS
But I—

STEPHANIO
And thou, sad, leaky, crack'd and bulging hull,
Wilt thou too tow thy sluggishness within
Reach of my bomb-shot?

ANTONIO
Marry! here come more
To stretch the thread of my poor Patience
Into so thin and spidery a fibre
That it will crack, unless the vexing grasp
Of these uncomely interruptions
Relax the hold they've ta'en on't—
What man of points is this who cometh first,
In whose whole stature is no wavy line,
No flexure but what is abrupt and sudden?
His eyebrows have no arch, his hair is gather'd
Conewise upon his squar'd and narrow brow,
His thin dry lips seem parallel straight lines,
His red and angular and shapeless nose
Shows like a Gyron gules in Heraldry,
And his sharp chin so narrow'd to a point,
That if 'twere possible his neck could bend
'Twould perforate and pierce his collar bone.

Scene VII

Enter ANGULO, CAMPANO, BENEDICT
ANGULO
Most glorious luminary, round whose light,
Attracted by thy Majesty of Grace
We make our lowly revolutions,
Exert not thy centrifugal force upon me
But gently lead me to thee, by the power
Of thy centripetal might, that so I may
By due progression fall within thine arms!

CAMPANO
'Faith, 'tis a garrison well ‘curtainéd’!
And it hath much of ‘crown-work’!

STEPHANIO
So say I.
Ho! Madam, lower your colours!

ANGULO
Prithee, heed us
Nor shroud thyself in envious eclipse!
Thou seest we encompass thee like satellites!

DEVIL
Right, Angulo! and, sooth, it gratifies
My woman's vanity to see ye stand thus,
Myself the centre of the circle which
My charms have bow'd unto my vassalage!
But there be those among you upon whom
My looks fall distantly, and those on whom
The soft expression of mine eyes emits
A nearer and more partial ray.

ANGULO
Nay, pardon me—
The radii of a circle are all equal
Unto each other, my good Amoret,
The centre of it equally remov'd
From any point in the periphery.

BENEDICT
Take heed not of the ungodly! I do come
To give thee ghostly consolation,
But find thee thus encircled with a crew
Of most ungracious sinners, led astray
By machinations of the evil one.

DEVIL
(aside)
True to a hair!

BENEDICT
Now, by our blessed Lady,
Hearken not to these fleshly minded men,
Vessels of wrath, the stumbling-blocks of life,
(Whom God requite hereafter for their deeds!)
But let us go and count our beads together.
I have a piece of the true cross, inclosed
In chrystal, which I'll show thee.

[Pulling DEVIL after him
STEPHANIO
Avast! avast! hi!
Get under weigh, my lads! what all at anchor?
Yare! yare! you see he's towing her away.

CAMPANO
(to BENEDICT)
And so you think to carry it by sap;
We'll countermine you though. Halt, holy rascal!

BENEDICT
Ave Maria! what a speech was that!
Off, sinner! look ye! here's the blessed Virgin!
[Shewing her image
Woulds't thou impede the saving of a soul?

ANTONIO
Why, who art thou, who with thy raiséd forehead,
Curl'd lip, and archéd brow, woulds't beat us back,
Squinting thro' thy green leeky eyes, and shaking
Thy carroty locks, thus smoothly combed upon
Thine austere front—who treadest on this earth
As though thou wert not of it? who art thou?

BENEDICT
One that would hold no converse with thee. Off!
My soul rejects thee, sinner, and my hair
Doth bristle at thy gross impiety, like
Some baited Boar when blown on by the breathings
Of the rude dog.

ANTONIO
Thou hog in a high wind!
Thou barrel-bellied sanctity!

BENEDICT
Avaunt!
You excommunicated heretic!

ANTONIO
Oh! you tithe pig, and you would worm your way
With that demurity of countenance,
That frozen simulation of innocence
Into your neighbour's strongholds?

CAMPANO
Not so fast, sir,
We'll stick a cheval de frise within the breach
And beat him backward.

ANGULO
Warring planets!
Here's bullying Mars with front as red as fire.
Here's Mercury and he's the hottest o'ye
And also as they say, the prince of thieves
With this old crafty Saturn who exceedeth
The rest in bulk, and all at variance
For Venus—why, who'll square the difference?

STEPHANIO
The ship yaws.

DEVIL
Gentlemen, this is not fitting
That ye with noisy and contentious brawls
And dissonance of tongues should thus disturb
The sober, drowsy, stealthy-footed night,
And rudely wake her echoes, shaking thus
These peaceful dewdrops from the boughs above us.
Rather come in and, if ye be inclin'd
To exalt your voices, send them forth in songs,
Glees, catches, merry madrigals, and such like
'Till the roof totter o'er ye!

BENEDICT
Be it so.
'Tis good to be afflicted. I will enter.

ANTONIO
The Devil take the hindmost!

DEVIL
Well said, lawyer!

[Exeunt into the Cottage. Manet DEVIL

Scene VIII.

DEVIL
O Race of Vipers, what should hinder me
From crushing ye to nothing? O vile wasps,
That flying round the honey'd vase dispute
Who first shall dare immersion, could I take ye
And dashing ye upon the earth could bruise
Each impotent passion out o'ye, 'twere well;
But if I left one spark of life in ye,
The slightest glimmerings of existence, straightly
Your teeming and prolific brains would hatch
Conceptions of new vice, and, by and by,
When the strong hand of chastisement relax'd,
Ye would run down the steep ascent again
Into the sink from whence ye were exalted,
And would return to the forbidden thing
With renovated zest. In after life
Were punishment the herald of reform
Th'infliction o't were good: but who shall fashion
Clay that is hard and untenacious?
Reform is rarer seen in after-life
Than a rose i' th'brows of winter. Hark! I hear ye
Head over ears in controversy and strife,
I must unto ye and at any rate
I'll thwart your present schemings—
Bluebeard and Hickathrift! but I'll kick up
The Devil of a Row, or more correctly
The Row of a Devil.
Belial, Abaddon, Astaroth, Asmodeus,
Turn up your smoky eyes, ingrained with soot,
And envy me the pranks which I shall play.

Said I, Asmodeus? 'faith, he was a craven and a
ninny and scar'd with the fume of fish-liver,

which I do much marvel, whether it were own'd
by Pike, Turbot, Salmon, or Sturgeon—or what
fish liver ever possessed such puissant and devil-driving
abilities. But, by Styx, they may broil
half the fry that swims, before my Devilship
would budge an inch.

[Exit into the Cottage