 | The Prophetesse |  |
Scæna Tertia.
Enter Diocles, Maximinian, Geta, with a Boar.Dio.
Lay down the Boar.
Get.
With all my heart; I am weary on't:
I shall turn Jew, if I carry many such burthens.
Do you think (Master) to be Emperor
with killing Swine? ye may be an honest Butcher,
or allied to a seemly Family of Sowse-wives.
Can you be such an asse, my reverend Master,
to think these Springs of Pork will shoot up Cæsars?
Max.
The fool sayes true.
Dio.
Come leave your fooling, Sirha,
and think of what thou shalt be when I am Emperor.
Get.
Would it would come with thinking: for then o' my conscience
I should be at least a Senator.
Max.
A Sowter:
for that's a place more fitted to thy nature,
if there could be such an expectation.
Or say the Divel could perform this wonder,
Can such a Rascall as thou art hope for honour?
such a log-carrying Lowt?
Get.
Yes, and bear it too,
and bear it swimmingly. I am not the first Asse, Sir,
has born good Office, & perform'd it reverendly.
Dio.
Thou being the son a Tiler, canst thou hope to be a Senator?
Get.
Thou being son of a Tanner, canst thou hope to be an Emperour?
Dio.
Thou saist true Geta, there's a stop indeed;
but yet the bold and vertuous—
Get.
Ye are right, Master,
right as a gun: For we the vertuous,
though we be kennel-rakers, scabs, and scowndrels,
wee the discreet and bold: and yet, now I remember it,
We Tilers may deserve to be Senators;
and there we step before you thick-skin'd Tanners,
for we are born three Stories high; no base ones,
none of your groundlings, Master.
Dio.
I like thee well,
thou hast a good mind, as I have, to this Honour.
Get.
As good a mind Sir, of a simple plaisterer—
and when I come to execute my Office,
then you shall see.
Max.
What?
Get.
An Officer in fury;
an Officer as he ought to be: Do you laugh at it?
Is a Senator (in hope) worth no more reverence?
By these hands I'll clap you by th'heels the first hour of it.
Max.
O' my conscience, the fellow beleeves.
Dio.
I do, do Geta,
for if I once be Emperor—
Get.
Then will I
(for wise men must be had to prop the Republick)
not bate ye a single ace of a sound Senator.
Dio.
But what shall we do the whilst?
Get.
Kill Swine, and sowse 'em,
27
Max.
Why didst thou run away
when the Boar made toward thee? art thou not valiant?
Get.
No indeed am I not; and 'tis for mine honour too:
I took a tree, 'tis true; gave way to the Monster;
heark what discretion sayes, Let furie passe;
from the tooth of a mad beast, and the tongue of a slanderer
preserve thine honour.
Dio.
Hee talks like a full Senator.
Go, take it up, and carry it in: 'tis a huge one;
we never kill'd so large a swine; so fierce too
I never met with yet.
Max.
Take heed, it stirres again;
how nimbly the rogue runs up: he climbs like a Squirrel.
Dio.
Come down ye dunce, is it not dead?
Get.
I know not.
Dio.
His throat is cut, and his bowels out.
Get.
That's all one,
I am sure his teeth are in: and for any thing I know,
he may have pigs of his own nature in's belly.
Dio.
Come take him up I say, and see him drest,
he is fat, and will be lustie meat; away with him,
and get some of him ready for our dinner.
Get.
Shall he be rosted whole,
and serv'd up in a Sowce-tub? a portly service,
I'll run i'th' wheel my self.
Max.
Sirrah, leave your prating,
and get some piece of him ready presently,
we are weary both, and hungry.
Get.
I'll about it.
What an inundation of brewisse shall I swim in?
Exit.
Dio.
Thou art ever dull and melancholy, Cosen,
distrustfull of my hopes.
Max.
Why, can ye blame me?
Do men give credit to a Juggler?
Dio.
Thou know'st she is a Prophetesse.
Max.
A small one,
and as small profit to be hop'd for by her.
Dio.
Thou art the strangest man; how do's thy hurt?
the Boar came neer you Sir.
Max.
A scratch, a scratch.
Dio.
It akes & troubles thee, and that makes thee angry.
Max.
Not at the pain, but at the practice, Unkle,
the butcherly base custome of our lives now:
Had a brave enemies sword drawn so much from me,
or danger met me in the head o'th' Army,
to have blush'd thus in my blood, had been mine honour.
But to live base, like Swine-herds, and beleeve too,
to be fool'd out with tales, and old wives dreams,
dreams, when they are drunk.
Dio.
Certain, you much mistake her.
Max.
Mistake her? hang her: to be made her Purveyors,
to feed her old chaps: to provide her daily,
and bring in Feasts, whilst shee sits farting at us,
and blowing out her Prophecies at both ends.
Dio.
Preethee be wise: Dost thou think, Maximinian,
so great a reverence, and so staid a knowledge—
Max.
Sur-reverence, you would say: what truth? what knowledge?
what any thing but eating is good in her?
'Twould make a fool prophecie to be fed continually:
What do you get? your labour and your danger.
Whilst she sits bathing in her larded fury,
inspir'd with full deep cups, who cannot prophecie?
A Tinker, out of Ale, will give Predictions:
but who beleeves?
Dio.
Shee is a holy Druid,
A woman noted for that faith, that piety,
Belov'd of heaven.
Max.
Heaven knows, I do not beleeve it.
Indeed, I must confesse, they are excellent Jugglers;
their age upon some fools too flings a confidence.
But what grounds have they: what elements to work on?
show mee but that: the sieve and sheers? a learned one.
I have no patience to dispute this Question,
'tis so ridiculous: I think the divell do's help 'em:
or rather, (mark me well) abuse 'em (Unkle):
for they are as fit to deal with him: these old women,
they are as jump and squar'd out to his nature—
Dio.
Thou hast a perfect malice.
Max.
So I would have
against these purblind Prophets: for look ye Sir,
old women will lie monstrously; so will the divell,
or else he has had much wrong: upon my knowledge,
old women are malicious; so is hee:
they are proud, and covetous, revengefull, lecherous:
all which are excellent attributes of the Divell.
They would at last seem holy; so would hee:
and to vail over these villanies, they would prophecie;
he gives them leave now and then to use their cunnings,
which is to kill a cow, or blast a harvest,
make young pigs pipe themselves to death, choak poultry,
and chafe a dairy-wench into a feaver
with pumping for her butter.
But when he makes these Agents to raise Emperors,
when he disposes Fortune as his Servant,
and tyes her to old wives tailes—
Dio.
Goe thy wayes,
thou art a learned Scholar, against credit.
You hear the Prophecie?
Max.
Yes, and I laugh at it:
and so will any man can tell but twenty,
that is not blind, as you are blind and ignorant.
Do you think she knows your fortune?
Dio.
I do think it.
Max.
I know she has the name of a rare South-sayer:
but do you in your conscience beleeve her holy?
inspired with such prophetick fire?
Dio.
Yes in my conscience.
Max.
And that you must upon necessity
from her words be a Cesar?
Dio.
If I live,
Max.
There's one stop yet.
Dio.
and follow her directions.
Max.
But do not juggle with me.
Dio.
In faith (Cosen,)—
so full a truth hangs ever on her Prophecies,
that how I should think otherwise.
Max.
Very well Sir:
You then beleeve (for me thinks, 'tis most necessary)
she knows her own Fate?
Dio.
I beleeve it certain.
Max.
Dare you but be so wise to let me try it,
for I stand doubtfull.
Dio.
How?
Max.
Come neerer to me;
because her cunning divell shall not prevent me:
Close, close, and hear; If she can turn this destinie,
I'll be of your faith too.
Dio.
Forward, I fear not.
28
Enter Delphia.
I am so confident—
Max.
'Faith so am I too,
that I shall make her Divels sides hum.
Dio.
Shee comes here:
go take your stand.
Max.
Now holly, or you howl for't.
Exit.
Dio.
'Tis pity this young man should be so stubborn.
Valiant he is, and to his valour temperate,
onely distrustfull of delayes in Fortune;
I love him deerly well.
Del.
Now my Son Diocles,
are yee not weary of your game to day?
and are ye well?
Dio.
Yes Mother, well and lustie:
onely ye make me hunt for empty shadows.
Del.
You must have patience, Rome was not built in one day:
and he that hopes, must give his hopes their currents.
You have kil'd a mighty Boar.
Dio.
But I am no Emperor.
Why do you fool me thus, and make me follow
your flattering expectation hour by hour?
Rise early, and sleep late? to feed your appetites,
forget my trade, my Arms? forsake mine honour,
labour and sweat to arrive at a base memory?
oppose my self to hazzards of all sorts,
onely to win the barbarous name of Butcher?
Del.
Son, you are wise.
Dio.
But you are cunning, Mother:
and with that Cannon, and the faith I give ye,
ye lead me blindly to no end, no honour.
You find ye are daily fed, you take no labour,
your familie at ease, they know no Market,
and therefore to maintain this, you speak darkly,
as darkly still ye nourish it, whilst I
being a credulous and obsequious coxcomb,
hunt daily, and sweat hourly, to find out
to cleer your Mystery: kill Boar on Boar,
and make your spits and pots bow with my Bounties:
yet I still poorer, further still—
Del.
Be provident,
and tempt not the gods doombs: stop not the glory
they are ready to fix on ye. Ye are a fool then;
cheerfull and gratefull takers the gods love,
and such as wait their pleasures with full hopes:
the doubtfull and distrustfull man Heaven frowns at.
What I have told you by my inspiration,
I tell ye once again, must and shall find ye.
Dio.
But when? or how?
Del.
Cum Aprum interfeceris.
Dio.
I have kil'd many.
Del.
Not the Boar they point ye:
nor must I reveal further, till you cleer it.
The lots of glorious men are wrapt in mysteries,
and so deliverd: Common and slight creatures,
that have their Ends as open as their Actions,
easie and open fortunes follow.
Max.
I shall try
how deep your inspiration lies hid in ye,
and whether your brave spirit have a buckler
to keep this arrow off, I'll make you smoak else.
Dio.
Knowing my fortune so precisely, punctually,
and that it must fall without contradiction,
being a stranger of no tie unto ye,
me thinks you should be studied in your own,
in your own destiny, me thinks, most perfect,
and every hour, and every minute, Mother,
so great a care should heaven have of her Ministers;
me thinks your fortunes both waies should appear to ye,
both to avoid, and take. Can the Stars now,
and all those influences you receive into ye,
or secret inspirations ye make shew of,
if an hard fortune hung, and were now ready
to powr it self upon your life, deliver ye?
Can they now say, Take heed?
Del.
Ha? pray ye come hither.
Max.
I would know that: I fear your divel wil cozen ye,
and stand as close as ye can, I shall be with ye.
Del.
I find a present ill.
Dio.
How?
Del.
But I scorn it.
Max.
Do ye so? do ye so?
Del.
Yes, and laugh at it, Diocles.
Is it not strange, these wild and foolish men
should dare to oppose the power of Destiny?
that power the gods shake at? Look yonder, Son,
Max.
Have ye spide me? then have at ye.
Del.
Do, shoot boldly.
hit mee and spare not, if thou canst.
Dio.
Shoot cosen.
Max.
I cannot; mine arm's dead, I have no feeling:
or if I could shoot, so strong is her arm'd vertue,
she would catch the arrow flying.
Del.
Poor doubtfull people,
I pity your weak faiths.
Dio.
Your mercy (Mother,)
and from this hour a deity, I crown ye.
Del.
No more of that.
Max.
O let my prayers prevail too,
here like a tree, I dwell else: free me Mother,
and greater then great Fortune, I'll adore thee.
Del.
Be free again, and have more pure thoughts in ye.
Dio.
Now I beleeve your words most constantly,
and when I have that power ye have promis'd to me.
Del.
Remember then your vow: my Neice Drusilla,
I mean, to marry her, and then ye prosper,
Dio.
I shall forget my life else.
Del.
I am a poor weak woman: to me no worship.
Enter Niger, Geta, and Souldiers.
Get.
And shall he have as you say, that kils this Aper?
Del.
Now mark and understand.
Nig.
The Proscription's up,
i'th' Market-place 'tis up, there ye may read it,
he shall have half the Empire.
Get.
A pretty Farm i'faith.
Nig.
And the Emperors Sister, bright Aurelia,
her to his wife.
Get.
Ye say well Friend; but heark ye,
Who shall do this?
Nig.
You, if ye dare.
Get.
I think so:
Yet I could poyson him in a pot of Perry,
he loves that veng'ancely: But when I have done this,
may I lie with the Gentlewoman?
Nig.
Lie with her? what else man?
Get.
Yes Man,
I have known a man married, that never lay with his wife.
those dancing dayes are done.
Nig.
These are old Souldiers,
and poor, it seems. I'll try their appetites.
'Save ye brave Souldiers.
29
Sir, ye talkt of proscriptions?
Nig.
'Tis true, there is one set up from the Emperour
against Volutius Aper.
Dio.
Aper?
Del.
Now;
Now have ye found the Boar?
Dio.
I have the meaning;
and blessed Mother.—
Nig.
He has scorn'd his Master,
and bloodily cut off by treachery
the noble Brother to him.
Dio.
He lives here Sir,
sickly and weak.
Nig.
Did you see him?
Max.
No.
Nig.
He is murthered;
so ye shall find it mentioned from the Emperour;
and honest faithful souldiers, but believe it;
for, by the gods, you will find it so, he is murthered;
the manner how, read in the large Proscription.
Del.
It is most true Son; and he cozens ye,
Aper's a villain false.
Dio.
I thank ye Mother.
and dare beleeve ye: Heark ye Sir, the recompence?
as ye related.
Nig.
Is as firme as faith Sir:
bring him alive or dead.
Max.
You took a fit time,
the Generall being out o'th' Towne: for though we love him not,
yet had he known this first, you had paid for't deerly.
Dio.
'Tis Niger, now I know him: honest Niger,
a true sound man, and I beleeve him constantly:
your busines may be done, make no great hurry
for your owne safety.
Nig.
No, I am gone: I thank ye.
Exit.
Dio.
Pray, Maximinian, pray.
Max.
I'll pray and work too.
Dio.
I'll to the Market place, and read the offer,
and now I have found the Boar.
Del.
Find your owne faith too,
and remember what ye have vow'd.
Dio.
O Mother.
Del.
Prosper.
Get.
If my Master, and I do do this, there's two Emperours,
and what a show will that make? how we shall bounce it?
Exeunt.
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