 | Sicelides A Piscatory |  |
Scen. 3.
Enter Conchilio.Con.
Glaucilla and Olinda? I marle what mettle,
What leaden earth and water nature put
Into these Nymphes, as cold, as dull, as frozen
As the hard rockes they dwell on! But my Mistris
Shee's all quicksiluer, neuer still, still mouing,
Now is she with some shepheard or some fisher,
And here she sets me to entertaine all commers:
This is the houre her Louers vse to muster.
But who should this be? ist you, old boy?
Enter Fredocaldo.
Old ten i'th hundred, are you the captaine? boh,
Fred.
Beshrew your heart, you are a very naughty boy,
I shake euery ioynt of me.
Con.
No shaking palsey, nor crampe has tane possession
Of your nimble limbes: ha, ha, he.
Fred.
Boy, where's thy Mistris?
Con.
Where she would bee.
Fred.
Where's that?
Con.
Where you would bee,
Fred.
What, in her bed?
Con.
Ah old goate, doe I smell you? yet in her bed?
Fred.
May not I speake a word or two with her.
what a foole tis? thou hast spoken twice a allreadie
Fred.
I But I would speake them in her eare.
Can.
I know your errand but I preethee tell mee Fredocaldoe
How ist possible that all the bellowes in loues fathers shoppe
Should kindle any fire in such a frost?
Fred.
Thou knowst not what is loue, I tell thee boy
I loue faire Cosma more then all her louers.
Con.
Now in my conscience he says true, this old wood
Makes a brighter fire then the greenest euer:
Fred.
Conchylio th'art deceiud, hast not seene
That of the May the lust of all the yeare
Nipt with the hoarie frost grows cold and chare?
And oft October though the yeares declining
With many daintie flowers is fairely shining
For as the flaming sunne puts out the fire
So may the heate of loue quench loues desires.
Con.
Cou'd this dotard doe as well as speake, he might—
Fred.
I tell thee boy, when I was young—
Con.
That was at the siedge of Troy
Now shall wee haue, more tales then euer poets made
But what will you giue mee Fredocaldoe
If I helpe thee in the rockie caue, neere to the mirtle groue
To speake with Cosma all alone.
Fred.
If thou'l doe it, Ile giue thee as faire an otter tamd for
fishing as euer was in Sicely.
Con.
Your hand on that: Ah old Saturne cold and dry we'l Ile doe't
Fred.
But when Conchylio when?
Con.
Within this houre expect her.
Fred.
Wilt thou besure.
Con.
Why did I euer deceiue you?
Fred:
neuer neuer:
Con.
beeleue mee Fredocaldoe I say beleeue mee then.
Fred.
Farewell; I'le keepe my promise.
Con.
Faile not within this houre:
Exit Fredocaldoe.
I know not what this old man's like, vnlesse
Our hill of Sicely the flaming Ætna:
Whose parches bowells still in fire consuming
Yet on his top congealed snow doth lye
As if there were not fire nor Phœbus nie.
Why should we count this strange? when euen so
This old mans heart's all fire, his head all snow?
But what fresh souldier's this?
Enter Armillus.
Ar.
My pretty wagge?
Con.
Sure you doe mistake me, sir, I am anothers.
Ar.
Thou dost mistake mee, boy, I know well whose thou
art.
Con.
I doubt you doe not.
Ar.
Th'art faire Cosmaes boy.
Con.
My mother told me so.
Ar.
Th'art a very wagge, take this, my boy.
Con.
True sir, now I am yours indeede; what! yellow? yours
to command: what would you with me?
Ar.
Seest thou!
Con.
Yes I see very well.
Ar.
Thou art too: quicke I prethee let me see thy Mistris.
Con.
Troth, sir, you cannot, shee's taken vp with other busines,
or rather taken downe, yet i'le trie sir.
Exit,
Ar.
Oft haue I maruaild how the erring eye,
Which of his proper obiect cannot lye,
In other subiect, failes so in his duty
When hee's to iudge of's chiefest obiect beauty.
None takes the night for day, the day for night.
The Lillies seeme alike to euery sight:
Yet when we partiall iudge of beauties graces,
Which are but colours plac't in womens faces,
The eye seemes neuer sure the selfesame show
And face, this thinkes a swanne, and that a crow.
But sure our minds with strong affections tainted,
Looke through our eyes as through a glasse that's painted.
So when we view our loues, we neuer see
What th'are, but what we faine would haue them be.
Thus Atyches. Perindus thus affecting
And thus to louo their beauties neuer moue them:
But therefore beautious seeme because they loue them.
Me thinks this Cosma farre them both excels,
In whose high forehead loue commanding dwels.
I like not this same too much modestie,
Commend the Senate for their grauity.
The wanton Nymph doth more delight me farre,
The modest Nymphs doe more seeme chaste then are,
Women are all alike, the difference this,
That seemes and is not, that both seemes and is.
Or if some are not, as they call it, ill,
They want the power and meanes, but not the will.
Enter Conchylo.
Con.
My Mistris as yet is so ouerlayd with sport or busines,
she cannot speake with you: may not I know your errand?
Ar.
My errand boy is loue.
Con.
Loue (um) tis light enough, I shall carry it away: 'tis so
short I shall remember it; but troth sir, another golden star
this starlesse night dropt in my hand, may chance to giue light
to make my Mistris shine in your armes.
Ar.
Hold thee boy, hold thee: will that content thee?
Con.
Sir doe you know thy myrtle groue?
Ar.
Yes well.
Con.
Your star will conduct you thither straight, within this
houre shee'l meete you there.
Ar.
How canst thou assure it?
Con.
Trust mee I'le procure it;
Else neuer more let me see golden stars.
Ar.
I'le try thee boy, 'tis but one mis-spent houre,
If thou performe thy promise good Conchylio,
Many such glittering nights shall shine on thee.
Con.
If? make no question sir.
Ar.
Farewell.
Con.
Adiew.
Exit.
This strange new bird, this goose with golden eggs
And yet not fedde too fat; now for my Crab,
Here's his twin, if heauens signes are right.
Enter Scrocca.
Next to the crab, the twin must come insight,
I'le out and seeke him.
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