 | Hollands Leagver |  |
Scen. 4.
Philautus, Fidelio, Faustina.Fid.
You see that I have brought you to the treasure,
And the rich garden of th'Hesperides:
If you can charme those ever-watchful eyes
That keepe the tree, then you may pull the fruit,
And after glorie in the spoyle of honour.
Phil.
Prethee let me alone with her.
Fid.
I'll leave you.
Exit Fidelio:
Ladie, my preface is to know your name.
Fau.
Faustina, Sir.
Phil.
I may be happie in you.
I have a sister somewhere of that name,
That in her youth did promise such a feature,
And hopes of future excellence: she had
A beautie mixt with maiestie, would draw
From the beholders, love, and reverence.
And I doe ill me thinkes, with unchaste thoughts
To sinne against her memorie: this taske
Would I were rid of; but I'll venter. Ladie,
You are not blinde, I conceive.
Fau.
No sir, I have not
Yet seene a thing so strongly sensible,
To hurt my eye-sight.
Phil.
Then I hope you can
Take notice of a Gentlemans good parts,
Without a Periphrasis.
Fau.
What's that?
Phil.
A figure,
Needlesse at this time to explaine my deserts,
So easie and apparent to be seene.
Fa.
I dare not enuie, nor detract, where worth
Does challenge due relation of respect:
Nor is my wit so curious, to make
A glosse or comment on your qualities.
Phil.
Tis too much labour, 'twere a taske would dull
The edge of Rhetoricke, to describe them rightly;
Nor would I have them dwell upon your tongue,
But fixed in your thoughts, there let them moue
Till they meet in coniunction with your love;
Nature would boast so sweet a simpathie.
Fau.
I should be sorrie, if my understanding
Moud in so poore a circle, as your praise;
I have not leisure to take notice of it.
Is this all you have to say?
Phil.
No, I have more;
But love is slow to dictate to my vowes:
And yet those sacred and divine impulsions,
Strike truer then my heart, and by his power
That has inflam'd me, here I sweare I love you.
Your oaths and loue, are made of the same ayre.
Both dye in their conception: quickly utterd,
And as easily not beleeued.
Phil.
Nay now you wrong
My true intent.
Faust.
Suppose I grant you loue me,
What would you inferre?
Phil.
That you should speake the like,
And with the same affection.
Faust.
If your loue
Be not a Bawd unto some base desire,
I doe returne the like.
Phil.
I know not how
You may interpret it, but sure the law,
And the command of nature, is no basenesse,
A thing that Iove himselfe has dignified,
And in his rapes confess'd the god of loue
The greater of the two, whō Kings haue stoopt to,
We are allow'd t'inioy some stolne delights,
So we be secret in't; for 'tis set downe
By such as in this art haue skilfull beene,
W' are not forbid to act, but to be seene.
Faust.
Vpon these termes, I doe deny you loue me
'Twas lust that flatter'd sinne, made love a god,
And to get freedome for his thefts, they gaue
Madnesse the title of a Deitie.
For how can that be loue, which seeks the ruine
Of his owne obiect, and the thing beloued.
No, true loue is a pure affection,
That giues the soule transparent, and not that
That's conversant in beastly appetites.
Phil.
Tell not me of your Philosophicall loue.
I am a foole to linger, womens denyall
Is but an easie cruelty, and they
Love to be forc'd sometimes.
Faust.
Pray know your distance.
Phi.
Come you dissemble, and you all are willing
Faust.
To what?
There's none of you but feele the smart
Of a libidinous sting; else wherefore are
Those baits and strong allurements to intice us?
Wherefore are all your sleekings, and your curlings,
Crispings, and paintings, and your skinne made soft,
And your face smooth with ointments, then your gate,
Confin'd to measure, and compos'd by art,
Besides the wanton petulancy of your eyes,
That scatter flames with doubtfull motion,
Vnlesse it were to prostitute your beauty?
Faust.
I'll giue account for none Sir, but my selfe.
And that I'll speake before my Virgin Zone,
Shall be vnti'de by any unchaste hand,
Nature shall suffer dissolution.
But what ere others be, me thinkes your worth
Should not pretend to an ignoble action.
Phil.
Now by this light I thinke you'll moralize mee.
Faust.
'Tis my desire you should goe better from mee
Then you came hither; you haue some good parts
But they are all exteriour, and these breed
A selfe conceit, an affectation in you,
And what more odious? Some applaud you in it,
As parasites, but wise men laugh at you.
Will you imploy those gifts that may commend you,
And adde a grace to goodnesse, had you any,
In the pursuit of vice, that renders you,
Worthy of nought but pittie?
Phil.
I came at to
A Whore, but shall returne as from a Saint.
Faust.
Then leave to prosecute the foggy vapours
Of a grosse pleasure, that involves the soule
In clouds of infamie. I wonder one
So compleat in the structure of his bodie,
Should haue his minde so disproportion'd,
The lineaments of vertue quite defac'd.
Phil.
I am subdu'd, she has converted mee.
I see within the mirror of her goodnesse,
The foulnesse of my folly: sweet instruct me.
Fau.
It is a shame, that man that has the seeds
Of vertue in him, springing unto glory,
Should make his soule degenerous with sinne,
And slave to luxury, to drowne his spirits
In Lees of sloth, to yeeld up the weake day,
To wine, to lust, and banquets.
Phil.
Here's a woman:
The soule of Hercules has got into her.
She has a spirit, is more masculine,
Then the first gender: how her speech has fill'd me
With love and wonder? sweet Ladie proceed.
Fau.
I would have you proceed, and seeke for fame
In brave exploits, like those that snatch their honour
Out of the talents of the Roman Eagle.
And pull her golden feathers in the field.
Those are brave men, not you that stay at home,
And dresse your selfe up, like a Pageant,
With thousand anticke, and exoticke shapes,
That make an idoll of a Looking-glasse,
Sprusing your selfe two houres by it, with such
Gestures and postures, that a waiting wench
Would be asham'd of you, and then come forth
T'adore your Mistris Fanne, or tell your dreame,
Ravish a kisse from her white glove, and then
Compare it with her hand, to praise her gowne,
Her Tire, and discourse of the fashion;
Make discovery, which Ladie paints, which not:
Which Lord playes best at Gleeke, which best at Racket.
These are fine elements.
Phil.
You have redeem'd me,
And with the sunnie beames of your good counsell
Disperst the mist that hung so heavie on me:
And that you may perceive it takes effect,
I'll to the warres immediately.
Fau.
Why then,
I must confesse I shall love you the better.
Phil.
I will begin it in your happy omen:
And if I shall orecome an enemy,
Yeild you the Trophies of the victory.
Faust.
Please you walke in the while.
Phil.
I shall attend you.
Exit Faustina.
Henceforth I'le striue to flye the sight of pleasure,
As of an Harpy or a Basiliske,
And when she flatters, seale my eares with Waxe,
Tooke from that boat, that rowed with a deafe oare,
From the sweete tunes of the Sicilian shoare.
Enter Trimalchio, Capritio, Fidelio, Ardelio, Snarle.
Trim.
Are you for the warre indeed?
Phil.
Immediately.
Is there any of you will goe along with me,
Besides this Gentleman?
Trim.
I thinke no body.
Phil.
Ardelio, thou art my faythfull seruant
Ard.
Alasse sir,
My body is fat, and spungy, penetrable;
And the least cold will kill mee.
Snarle.
Yet his face
Is hatcht with impudency, threefold thicke.
Ard.
I am not for your Trenches, and cold crampes,
Their discipline will quickely bring me vnder:
Ile stay at home, and looke to your businesse.
Phil.
Brother Capritio, what say you to it?
Caprit.
Who I? ods lid I am not such an Asse,
To goe amongst them, like your volunteers,
That frighted worse at home with debt and danger,
Trauell abroad i'th summer to see seruice,
And then come home i'th winter, to drinke Sacke.
I am none of those, i'le hardly trust my selfe
In the Artillery yard, for feare of mischiefe.
Phil.
Mr. Trimalchio, you are yong and lusty,
Full of ambitious thoughts.
Trim.
'Tis true indeede,
That I am growne ambitious of honour.
Snarle.
But with no danger
Of life and hope.
Trim.
I meane to hazard a limme for it.
Phil.
Why, whither are you going?
Trim.
To the Leager,
Vpon the same imployment, that Hercules
Did once against the Amazons.
Snarle.
And I
Will stay at home, and write their annals for them.
Phil.
Stay all at home, and hug your ignominyes,
And whilst we spoyle the enemy, may you
Be pil'd by pimpes. Cheaters intrench vpon you.
Let Bawds, and their issues ioyne with you. Marry
With whores, and let proiectors rifle for you.
And so I leaue you.
Trim.
We shall heare of you,
By the next Caranto, I make no doubt of it.
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