 | The Wizard |  |
Scena 1m a,
Enter Sebastian, Clerimont.Cle:
Sebastian perswade me not, J will goe to her and sett
open the hospitall of his aches, gouts, palseys, apoplexes;
whorson old goat must he be rank at these years.
Seb.
But he is thy Father, you ought to reverence the name,
although the person were never so despicable.
Cle:
Prithee tell me is there any reason that a thing not able
to trusse or untrusse his hose should doat upon a Lady,
Hercules at one & twenty could but content: one that (if he
hath her) will lay her hand betwixt his garlick kisse & her
mouth, & lie at the foot of the bed & salute his toes rather
then his lips; Js it to be suffer'd?
Seb.
Why this should vex me more then you, he is my
rivall.
Cle:
Jf he doth not breath a palsie into her mouth shall shake
out all her teeth within this week J'le hang. We shal haue
them shortly dance like Virginall jacks: he hath a breath
will fetch off all her complexion worse then a seacoal fire:
he waits for my Elder Brother home from the University to
Court man forsooth for fear of rescues of Gentlemen from
Serjants.
Seb:
Protest you wrong him, J haue heard fame loves him,
and is loud in his commendations.
Cle:
For what?
Seb:
For his gentleman like de«portment cheifly, nor» are
his other faculties whisper'd.
Cle:
Gentleman like! what Gentleman like? he ne're kept
horse nor hounds their, you might as soon haue gott him to
the Gallowes as to the steeling of a dear, 'twas much he
would weare a Round crown'd hat or silk stockings, now he
is at London you shall haue him in the twelve penny Room
at playhouses, n'ere set on the Stage, & her 's his Gentleman
like Deportment.
Seb:
You'r i'th traducing humour and care not whose fame
you blast; but faith let me stop your intended journey about
your Father, he affords us excellent mirth, and Gentlewomen
delight much to converse with him.
Cle:
Jf your finikin Lady knew but all, shee'd casheir him
streight.
Seb:
Nay Clerimont touch not the Ladies name, my ears
must not hear blasphemy against her and be my ears, J know
braine when he was big with Pallas.
Cle:
Nay she is Minerva is she not? O Loue what a company
of Kitchen maydes hast thou Deified? hark thee thou Poeticall
Dreamer, hast not thou toucht that peice of Divinity yet? can
that ticklish flesh of yours come neer this spirit, and not stand
upright, ha? if it can then J'le sweare she breaths pure Vesta.
Seb:
Why friend J doe not so unwoman her
as to repute her without naturall heat:
no frozen clime expells this fire; nay where
the Sun a stranger is, this heat is known,
but friend she hath not ill improv'd her stock
Nor added to ye flash of youthfull blood
Unnecessary flame; but when nature
Js high and active, then she helps it not
To the degree unlawfull is: her face
Js faire without a Fucus, so her blood
Hot without lust.
Cle:
Prethee then tell me what steame it is brings all these
flies, these Sutors, her retinew is more numerous then Hellens
or Penelopes; why doth she license revells, plays, and masks?
can all this be out of pure loue, pure affection, not a thought,
not a spice of the right ingredient; hath her simple fancy no
composition?
Seb:
Her sweet behaviour as a potent charme
At once spurs on and bridles our affections
This makes us to express in divers shapes
One thing, Observance. Some think to catch her ear
Jn a sweet cloze of Musick: J her tast
With natures bravery, and tempting meats.
A third by masks laies seige unto her eye,
And thinks himself the boy that danceth there.
All which she makes the trophies of her mind,
And tells the Stoick he may admitt
Pleasure before him.
Cle:
But your stage-play hath an insinuation beyond all
this: J have gon away sometime an excellent Courtier,
sometimes an admirable Souldier, and now and then half
a Doctor in Leachery.
Seb:
'Tis true; these as the best things are abus'd
And few spectators doe behold aright
The Authors drift: 'tis a shame but truth.
At once, the lively actor feigneth lust
And doth infuse it; where the Poet look't
Other effects should crown his learned pains,
That we by sight of vice in her true dress
Like Nero prying in his mothers womb
Should hate that loathsome place, & so doth she
And conquers vice in his own lists and tents.
Cle:
O Admirable creature!
Seb:
Why then do'st envy thy Father her?
Cle:
What should she doe with him? one that cannot see
with four eyes, nor goe with three legs: Mauger my Brothers
Rhetorick he shall not haue her; Farewell.
Exit.
Thy Brothers Rhetorick? yes J too much fear
Jt is thy Brothers Rhetorick not thy Fathers.
Nor can J blame him to be taken by those eyes,
My self am more then prisoner to: he's young
And personable and newly come from books
Such as sweet Ovid and Catullus penn'd:
Wherein all Schollars studie women long
Before they practise; & can read, even
To Courtiers lectures of Complements.
Besides, the pleasing tales and loue stories
They can conveigh to willing ears, are arms
More to be fear'd in Cupids tents then gold
Or Power; but J must check my stragling tongue.
J had almost say'd Cœlia might fall by these
And be o'recome by a strong line or sonnett;
No, her affection in such levell goes,
We know not whether we all win or loose.
Exit.
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