University of Virginia Library

ACT. I.

SCENE. 1.

Enter Maria, Cesarissa, and her Nurse.
Nur.
Chear up, Fair Madam, Let me see you smile;

Mar.
A Smile's prophanenesse in these doleful Times.

Nur.
Doleful indeed, and yet with all your Grief
They will be nothing better, you much worse.

Mar.
Ah, Nurse, my weeping doth much ease my minde,
“Grief which bleeds not in th'eyes, festers in th'heart.

Nur.
Some showres of sorrow make the soul to spring
With pious thoughts, but you a deluge bring,
And drown'd your Senses with your over-grief.

Mar.
I am a woman, for our Sex 'tis hard
To hit the Mean, and if we be denied
Of our over-doing, we shall Nothing do
Our Love, our Grief, our Hatred, and our Joy.
Yea, all our Passions are contrived so,
They are not full, or else they overflow.

Nur.
Have patience Madam, Matters may amend,
The Emperour's yet a Child.

Mar.
And Child in judgement he will ever be.
No Monster doth more hate a Looking-Glasse,
Then he a Book, his wit's too short to measure
A noble sport, or honourable pleasure.
Only he sits, and sots, and drinks, and sleeps,
The Stewes is brought to him, or he to th'Stews.

Nur.
Andronicus will shortly here arrive,
And by him all things will be rectified.

Mar.
Well, I could tell you somthing if I durst.

Nur.
Madam do,
If I reveal it, let me be accurst,
Sooner the very stones themselves shall speak.

Mar.
Thats not impossible,
In Churches oft I have seen Speaking-stone.

Nur.
Midnight shall turne a Clack sooner then I.

Mar.
'Tis this; I do not think Andronicus
Will help us any whit.

Nur.
Know you the man?

Mar.
Were all faults lost, in him they might be found.

Nur.
Here comes Alexius.

Mar.
Quickly quit the place,
He'le say that I shoot poison from mine eyes,
'Cause I presume to tell him of his faults;
I'm lov'd the worse for loving him so well.

Exeunt.

SCENE 2.

Alexius the young Emperour, with Asotus his Servant, Philobiblos his Schoolmaster running after him with a Book.
Alex.
Lets haste, lets haste, the slave runs after us.

Asot.
His vineger-looks I think would melt the Alps.

Phil.
Please it your Highnesse, It is but a leafe,
And that a little one—

Alex.
Sir, lay by the book.

Phil.
Apelles said, No day without a line.

Asot.
There wants a strong one for that neck of thine.

Alex.
What's Learning to a Prince? O give me Greatnesse.

Phil.
You can't be great, unlesse you first be learn't.

Alex.
If I lack Learning, I can borrow it
From those my subjects who are better stor'd.

Phil.
Braines can't be borrowed, nor Learning lent.

Alex.
Not lend their Braines to me? I'le take their heads.

Phil.
Apply your self to th'reading Histories.

Alex.
I'de rather Histories were made of me.

Phil.
Take heed one be not made too soon of you.
This is a precious book call'd Plutarchs Lives;
It is no crabbed book with rugged stile.
But Wisdom smiles in pleasant Language here.
A Mine of hidden Treasure's here contain'd,
Which will betray you into it with pleasure.

Asot.
That very words proclaimes your wickednesse
Who bring a Book here to betray your Prince.

Phil.
Not to betray him unto Vice like you,
To spend his dayes in drink, his nights at dice.

[Aside.
Alex.
What hidden Treasure in this Plutarch's found.

Phil.
Reade the Book over, it will make you wise.

Alex.
Have you e're read it?

Phil.
Yes Sir, oft at School.

Alex.
How comes it then to passe ye're such a fool.

Phil.
Great Alexander, who did put the yoke
On the worlds neck, and Persians Empire won
Ne're call'd his Master Aristotle Fool.

Alex.
He ne're deserved it. Leave this gravity,
I like no Library but a well-fill'd Cellar,
Where Pipes of Cretian-Wine are Folio's,
Butts of Falernion are the Quarto-books.
Surreptan-Terses are the Lesser Volumes.
Mention no more your Plutarchs Lives to me
Except you woo your death,
Come lets be gone.

Phil.
Alas, alas, I can bemoan your fate,
For to amend it is, I fear, too late.

Exeunt.

SCENE 3.

Enter Cleobulus and Paleologus.
Cleob.
O times, O manners!

Paleol.
At that posture still?
You raile so long upon the Times, that now
Th'are grown stark deaf, and hear not what you say.
Like dwellers near Nile's Cataract, who never
Do heare the noise, because they hear it ever.

Cleob.
When I was young, some sixty Winters since.

Paleol.
Ah sixty Winters, why not Springs aswell?

Cleob.
Young men by Springs, by Winters old men count
Their passed years, I say when I was young,
The world was not so bad as now it is.

Paleol.
The World was childish, when you were a child,
And now you'r old, the World dotes as you dote.

Cleob.
Gap Greenhead.

Paleol.
I'le not change it for your gray.
Go coine your silver haires up into money,
Weare lesse wealth on your Head, more in your purse.

Cleob.
Scorne not that Age you hope to live unto.

Paleol.
Old Age I would not wish for, but long life.

Cleob.
To wish long life, without old Age, is vain.

Paleol.
But to be serious, what Account can you
Give of the world, when you were but a child,
Could you write Comments then on the Times Text?

Cleob.
Something I then observed, and still remember.

Paleol.
Something you then observ'd, who play'd his part
The best at Ball, At th'admirable Art
Of whipping of a Top, what Boy excel'd,
Till you in Age had counted twice seven years,
School was your Hell, a Play-day all your Heaven.

Cleob.
Yea, I mark't matters of more consequence
The innocence and purenesse of those dayes.
No cruel Landlords did their Tenants rack,
Breaking their Tenants backs to deck their own,
Dissembling was unborn, and simple Truth
Men with their Tongues did speak, seal'd with their tooth,
Now, in this life there's nothing left but lying.

Paleol.
You'd best make haste to die, and hear the Truth.

Cleob.
All faults are now in fashion, Sin's a glory,
And he who dares be honest in the Court
Is mock't at, Flatterers only are advanc't.

Paleol.
Thus 'twas alwayes, thus 'twill ever be,
Till Rhyne to Caspion-Seas payes tribute, and
Till Indian-Ganges doth with Nile ingender,
As long as Starres shine in their Firmament,
As long as Fishes swim in Neptunes Brine,
So long at Court will Parasites attend,
When they leave off, conclude, the World is done.

Cleob.
Your words resent of too much Poetry,
Not to say falshood.

Paleol.
Sure of too much Truth,
I could most easily assign the Reason,
(Convincing Reason) why these Times displease you.

Cleob.
Let's hear it, I am not yet too old to learn.

Paleol.
'Tis parcel of an old mans character
To praise times past, 'cause they were best with him.
When young, you'd strength & will to revel, ride,
Hunt, hawk, and race it, Act in Masks and dance,
But since these pleasures are denied by Age,
Your only pastime is to chide the times;
And 'cause your eyes are dim, you blame the room
As dark; and do impute your stumbling and
Ill-treading to th'unev'nnesse of a Floor.

Cleob.
I'le hearken to your fond discourse no more.

Paleol.
Your sore is rub'd, you wince so—
I see some quarrel with the present time,
Meerly because 'tis present. Presence is
Counted a crime by some mens restless soules,
I'de rather hear the world bemoan'd, then rail'd at,
Men should convert (if I might men advise)
Their bitter Satyres to sad Elegies.

Exeunt.

SCENE 4.

Enter Monobius the Hermite alone.
Mon.

SCENE 5.

Enter Xena the Mother-Empresse, with three Ladies, Eudoxa, Irene, and Artemia waiting on her with a Lutanist.
Xen.
Come lets be merry, Ladies, Sirrah sings,

SONG.
Lad.
Since that our life's so very short,
All is lost that is not sport,
Revenge your selves of envious death,
And with the Swans sing out your breath,
What the life you lead on earth
Doth want in length, take out in mirth.

[Monobius runs to him, and casually breaks his Lute]
Lad.
My harmlesse Lute! wherein hath it offended,
That this my musick scarce begun, is ended?

Eud.
This is Monobius, that over-grown Saint,
With his prodigious holinesse. Bold Bedlam
How dare you thus my Musick interrupt?

Mon.
I bring you better Musick, If you'le hear it,
Grave Counsell for your Soul,

Xen.
Il'e be at leasure
Forty years hence to give you Audience,
Grave Councell's best, when wee are near our Grave,
It comes too soone now.

Mon.
Then't may come too late.

Xen.
Adde but another word
Ile send thee on an Errand to the wormes.

Mon.
Im'e going thither on my own accord.

Xen.
Ile cause you mend your Pace, and make you fly.

Mon.
Small gaine to you, less loss will come to me,
The whole Cloth of my life is measured out,
Onely the List is left mee.

Eud.
A list indeed spun of course threed,
And your Rude Manners shew it.

Xen.
The Hangman shall confute your Arguments,
A Rope may hold you who have broke the Lute.

Mon.
The Gallowes though it be the worst of waies,
May lead an Innocent to the best of ends.

Xen.
With shame & Paine He shall your Death contrive

Mon.
Both shame & Paine my Patience shall orecome.

Art.
Good Madam do but heare him what He'le say

Xen.
What do you hold that Musick is not lawfull?

Mon.
Yes, but at present, 'tis not seasonable,
Best Musick's now but discord, and doth Jarre
With these sad times, We feel bad and fear worse.

Iren.
We did it but to drive away the time.

Mon.
What need to drive, what of it self doth fly?
Our Nature's bad at best, and must it have
Bad Songs to be the Pandars to our Lust?
So to awake our sleeping badnesse, And
Blow up the Sparks to fire with such Incentives.

Xen.
What made you thus to break my curious Lute?

Jr.
Tameness it self how could It turn so wild?

Eud.
How com your Purity to burne with wrath?

Mon.
For the most part 'twas done against my will,
So much as was done with it, was ill done,

Art.
Did ever Man more freely fault confesse?

Xen.
I'de thought your perfectnesse had bin most just.

Mon.
Just nothing 'tis.

Xen.
I see you would be sad,
If all your faults were in your forehead writ.

Mon.
I should be glad my forehead would conteyn them.
But Ladies, If a Lute's so easily broke,
How quickly is our life?—
Of brittle matter we are made, And such
As strait is shatter'd with a casual touch.

Art.
All Accidents he turns into devotion.

Mon.
Then Ladies lay these lustful Toyes aside,
And for uncertain certain death provide,
This life's a moment whereon doth depend,
Either our Weal or Wo, both without End.

Xen.
The houre's run out, your Sermon should be done.

Mon.
Soon will the houre-glasse of your life be run.
[She offers to strike him.
Nay, I'le be gone, Woful is her condition,
Who when most sick, most scorneth her Physician.

Exit.

SCENE 6.

Xen.
Go doting Coxcomb, th'hast surviv'd thy wit,
Priviledg'd by thy basenesse from my Anger,
We scorn to stoop unto so low revenge.

Eud.
Madam, do you know the man?

Xen.
Yes, for a fool,
It is Monobius the great Hermite of Greece.

Eud.
What? he that fill'd all Europe with his name,
And almost tir'd out Fame, though most industrious
To carry his report to every eare,

Xen.
How basely he appears now in mine eye,
Oft have I wisht to see him. Now I wish
I ne're had seen him,

Art.
Or rather that she had ne're heard him.

[aside
Eud.
None can the Jewel by the Casket value,
An ill face often doth much worth suppresse.
Distance makes things seem greater then they be
If one could touch, none would adore a Starre.
Our hearing deifies what our sight defies.

Xen.
But, Lutanist, what quite put out of Tune?
Lets hear you sing, though you can't play—

Lad.
'Tis shame one skill'd in Poetry,
Without an Epitaph should die,
Or that my Lute which held so long,
Should now be broke without a Song;
His fiery zeal sure wanted fewel,
Which made him spoil my woodden Jewel.
Its hard to say, as matters stood,
Lute or Man, which was most wood.

Xen.
Good! good!

Enter Menander.
Mon.
Bad! bad! Is this a time to sing?
VVhen our arm'd foes are ready at the Port?
Andronicus is entring with his Army.

Xen.
Heavens forbid.

Mon.
His sword will out-sharp your prayers.
Protesebastus is march't out to meet him,
And led with him a Rout of Plunderers.
VVe in their valour do repose no trust,
Souldiers which prey on friends, prove prey to foes.
The City's great and false, what it will do,
It must do at a push, for if it pause,
Their Swords first more then Steel, prove lesse then straws.

Xen.
Monobius! Oh now for Monobius!
That he were here to spend his prayers for us.
I have bin dumb to th'Heavens, And they will
Be deaf to me; Artemia, you in him
Have interest. Beseech him to employ
His best devotions to obtain successe.
Give him this Jewel from me.

Art.
I'le see't done.
[Exeunt Xen. Eud. and Irene.
Thus in cold weather on we buckle fast
Those Clothes which we away in heat did cast.

SCENE 7.

Artemia. Menander.
Art.
Dear husband, meddle no more in this matter,
Lend not your Finger to Andronicus,
To help him hither.

Men.
Prethee wife, why so?

Art.
The man's extremely vitious. And he must
At last be woful, If the Heavens be just,

Men.
I hope you have but lately turn'd Statist.

Art.
I never medled with affaires of State?

Men.
Can you see further into things then I?

Art.
I can stand by whiles you do play the game.

Men.
Belike your Ladiship's a Prophetesse.

Art.
By present things I future can foresee,
And shrewdly too.

Men.
That all the World doth know,
Your tongue will be depos'd, you are too sharp.

Art.
I'm one which wish you well, Sharp natures prove
Ofttimes more wholesom then a luscious Love.
“Here I beseech you on my bended knees,
[She falls on her knees.
“Unseen of all, save him who all things sees,
“By those most sacred Matrimonial Bands
“Which first did tie our hearts, and then our hands.
“By all your sons, and by your only daughter,
“By what hath past 'twixt us, or may hereafter.

Men.
See how the tears do trickle down her cheeks.
Come spend them freely, you have a Mint of them.
These womens eyes are Springs.

Art.
Mens hearts are Rocks,

Men.
Go Madam, meddle with your own Preserves,

Art.
I would preserve your safetie if I might.

Men.
Then meddle with your Sweet-meats, see they be good
In taste and colour, Consult with your Sempstress
Strike into the newest fashion, first and best.
Out-Gorget all the Ladies in the Court,
But meddle not with things above your reach,
Your Sex was made to learn and not to teach.

Exit
Art.
Farewel, dear husband.
You jeer my Grief. And yet I wish you joy,
(But none can save those who destroy) themselves.
Towards my husband this I will averr,
M'affections shall not erre, my judgment may,
We wives unto our husbands may commend
Our best Advice with all Humility,
Our Parts to offer, but their Power to chuse;
Who if they do refuse their happinesse,
This will our conscience ease in all distresse,
We did our Duty, though deny'd successe.
But here's Monobius.

SCENE ult.

Enter Monobius.
Art.
The Empresse does commend her self to you,
Desires you that you would send your devotions
To Heaven for successe on her designes.

Mon.
What designes?
Some lustful Sonnets to provoke her nature,
Pregnant with Atheism, and black blasphemy.

Art.
Our foes this instant do invade the City.

Mon.
She lately did despise our pious Councel.

Art.
Its ne're too late to be or good or wise.

Mon.
We're slighted till the moment when we're needed.

Art.
Your Goodness writes no wrong except in Dust.

Mon.
She with ill language wrong'd my Innocence.

Art.
Can you be angry, that do teach us patience?

Mon.
Then let Her for her selfe powre forth her Praiers.

Art.
Ah! Her Devotions are growne strangers quite
To Heaven, where yours are dayly knowne and heard,
This Jewell she injoyned me to present you.

Mon.
Jewells like hypocrites shine in mens eyes,
Whereas no reall value lyes in either.
[He lookes upon it.
The Price of Stones, by inward worth I set
In th'loadstone, nature placeth reall Treasure
Grand Pylot to all Ships, by'ts love to North,
A Flint contains the sparkes of secret worth,
These of themselves are of no certaine valew.
But do pride of People, fall or rise.
Give me the Diamond of Patience, and
The spotlesse Christall of pure Innocence,
The Amethyst of true Sobriety,
Ruby of Martyrs, and the Virgins Pearle.

Art.
It was her pleasure, to present it to you.

Mon.
Returne it, and my Answer back to her,
Tell her, that I my Princes do give, not sell.
Tell her from me, Friends Pryers, good seconds are.
Yet on our owne, we must as firsts rely.
They which do pray by Proxey, find at last,
By Proxey also they shall go to Heaven!
But let her know, I will improve my Best,
For that's my Duty which is her Request.

Chorus consisting of two Companies.
1. Chor.
What meane you by this mighty Packe?
Each makes a Waggon of his backe.

2. Chor.
Need you see well soone inure,
Us heavy burthens to endure.
But though our backs should broken be,
Ou care's to keep a Conscience free.

1. Chor.
Tell us, to what place, we pray,
You intend to shape your way?

2. Chor.
Whither Providence shall guid us,
Where we shall finde hope to hide us.
Or Italy, Or Pælestine.
Or neere the Banke of Nile, or Rhine.
We shall wander altogether,
Be't from hence, we care not whither.

1. Chor.
Let's advise you stay a while,
Matters may hereafter smile.

2. Chor.
There is danger in delay,
In a tottering State to stay,
In those Ruins we'd be loath.
To be Slaine, and buried both.

1. Chor.
You do little love expresse
To your Country in distresse.
Bragg no more of Conscience,
With which you can so well dispence.
We're resolved not to fly,
Here we liv'd, and here we'le die.

2. Chor.
Even the worst of wormes will strive,
To preserve it self a live.
We from Bruites may learne this Reason,
To foresee a stormy Season,
Then to hast to shady Bowres,
Tymely to prevent the Showres.

1. Chor.
But pray tell us is it faire,
Now to seek a forreign Aire?
In our Sins you bare a part,
From our sufferings now you start.
And on us throw all the Load,
By deserting your Aboad.
We're resolved not to fly,
Here we liv'd, and here we'le die.

2. Chor.
As our Sins have done you wrong,
So our prayers shall help along.
Absent, present, that's all one,
Stay we here, or be we gone,
We shall in this Point be even,
Our prayers with yours shall meet in Heaven.

1. Chor.
But we better do approve,
To amend, and not remove.
For better Manners we will change,
But not for a Countrey strange.
Here to stay our selves intend,
But away our Sins we'le send.
Take heed you meet not what you shun,
And running from Death, on death run.
Be it better, be it worse,
Come a blessing, come a curse.
Here we did of Plenty tast,
And we here intend to Fast.
Here of sweet we had our Part,
Here we'le also share in Smart.
We're Resolved not to fly,
Here we liv'd, and here we'le die.