University of Virginia Library

Tuesdayes Deuice.

Cupid comming, as he reportes, out of Heauen (from whence his Mother and he is banished) encountres the Queene, and speaketh as followeth, he riding in a Coatch: and you must presuppose, that before his comming to the Queene, he and hys Mother had mette with the Philosopher.

[Alas poore boy, where shalt thou wander now]

Chastitie suddainely in the view of the Queene, settes vpon Cupid, and spoyles hym of his Coatch, Bowe and all, and sets him a foote, and so rides in his Coatche to the Queene, and speakes as followeth.
Chastitie speaketh.
To striue with boyes that standes on bragges and braues
I thought great scorne, till Cupid I espyde,
But that proude ladde, that makes so many slaues,
Must needes find one, to daunt his Peacocks pride.
Dame Chastitie is she that winnes the field,
Whose breast is armd with thoughtes of vertues rare,
Who to the fight doth bring no glittering shield,
But cleane conceytes, which pure and blessed are,
That strikes downe lust, and tames the wilfull mind,
Maynteynes the iust, and holds vp learning both;
And wisedome great, through me the Sages find,
Philosophers, the louers of the troth.
Yea Kings and Queenes by me worke wonders still,
Do conquere Realmes, and Wisedome do attayne.
The studious minds, whose knowledge, witte, and skill,
And all the world doth fame and glory gayne
That chastly liues, it talkes with God aboue,
It climbes the Cloudes from pomp and pleasures vayne.
It is a thing that shining Angels loue,
And in the world to come shall liue and raigne.
It triumph makes of fickle fond desire,
It breedes great force and courage full in men,
It quencheth sparkes and flames of fancies fire,
It quickes the wittes, and helpes the art of penne,
Yea all good giftes from Chastitie doth rise
That worthy are of honor vnder Skyes.
Then sith (ô Queene) chast life is thus thy choyce,
And that thy heart is free from bondage yoke,
Thou shalt (good Queene) by my consent and voyce,
Haue halfe the spoyle, take eyther bowe or cloke.
The bowe (I thinke) more fitte for such a one
In fleshly forme, that beares a heart of stone
That none can wound, nor pearce by any meane.
Wherefore take heere the bow, and learne to shoote
At whome thou wilt, thy heart it is so cleane,
Blind Cupids boltes therein can take no roote.
Now will I say in this poore Coatch of mine,
To mount the Skyes, and see the Gods deuine.

Cvpid commes running afoote like a vagabond towards the Queene, from Wantonnesse and Riot where he was succoured, and meetes againe in open shew the Philosopher, whose habitation was in a Rocke, and the Philosopher demaundes of Cvpid where he hathe bin, and what is the cause he commes abroade in such disorder.
The Philosopher speaketh.
How now my friend, where hast thou bin? in other plight I trow
Thou wast, when lately I thee met, hath Cupid lost his bow?
His cloke? his Coatch his witte and all? and fled from mothers face?
Or else hath Cupid gone to Schole, to learne some prettie Grace?
To play the God, fye foolish boy, leaue of these toyes in time,
Thy Mother (as the Poets fayne,) when beautie was in prime
A strumpet was, it may be so, as well appeareth yet,
Thou art not of the race of Gods, thou art some Beggers chitte.

Cupid.
Nay doting foole, that still dost pore on Bookes,
Though Coatch be gone, and golden cloke be lost,
Yet like a God, I tell thee Cupid lookes,
When old grey beard shewes like a rotten post.
It yll becommes an aged man to rayle
On women thus, that are not now in place,
But sure thy words are spent to small auayle,
They can not blot my mother, nor my race.

Philosopher.
But dost thou thinke thou art a God? then shew some proofe therof.

Cupid.
That can I do, but you old men, with boyes will iest and scoffe,
And either laugh to scorne our words, or taunt vs past the nick.

Philosopher.
Beleeue not that, but when in deede we enter neere the quicke,
Ye wincke like Coltes, and fling away from witte and feeling seene,
Wel Cupid, prooue thou art a God, and shew some good defence,
To this thy talke, I will giue eare, and silence keepe a whyle,
Vntill thy words haue gone so farre, thy folly makes me smyle.

Cupid.
The greatest Clarkes that earst haue bin, three thousand yeres agoe,
When they on Venus talke or treate, takes Cupids part ye knowe.
Their bokes, their scrolles, their pāphlets large, makes mētiō of my name,
You nede no further search for proof, to try out Cupids fame.

Philosopher.
Boast not of booke; for bookes they be, that plainely witnes beares
How Cupids arte infects good minds, and canckers honest eares.
And though fond men in Fables shew on you a flourish fine,
Such geegawes grees not with good rules, nor holds on gifts deuine.

Cupid.
Why Sir, you will beleeue, that Ioue and many more
Of other Gods in Heauen are, where I haue bin before?

Philosopher.
In Heauen? there you trippe, why boy how came you thence?
You went abroade to take the ayre, and haue bin walking sence
Like dawes along the coast, O boy, thy proofe is bare,
In Heauen is but one that rules, no other Gods there are.

Cupid.
And doth not Ioue and Mars beare sway? tush that is true.

Philosopher.
Then put in Tom and Tibbe, and all beares sway as much as you.

Cupid.
I told you Sir before, your taunting tong would bite.

Philosopher.
I come too neere the sore, and please not your delight.
But since you fume for naught, and can not heare the truth,
I will not shame my hoarie heares, to striue with wanton youth.
This Cupid, Venus sonne, as men suppose to bee,
Is neyther God nor Man in forme, nor monster as you see,
But such a kind of shade, as can no substance shoe,
Begot by braynelesse blind delight, and nurst with natures foe.
Fed vp with faithlesse foode, and traynd in trifling toyes,
Awakt with vice, and luld asleepe agayne with yrkesome ioyes.

Wantonnesse and Riotte commes in, and talkes with Cvpid, and so takes him away.
Wantonnesse.
Art thou so fond to talke with doting age,
This Man did bring thy mother in a rage,
And told hir playne, a Goddesse faynd she was,
Most leawd of life, and brittle as the glasse,
I Wantonnesse knowe well that tale is true,
To this my friend now Riotte what say you?

Riotte.
I could say much, but I will hold my peace,
Foule is that bird that his owne neast defiles.
If Riot should not speake, that Venus knowes so well,
(With whom since Cupid bare a name, did wantō Venus dwel)
Much pitie were it sure, that Riot life should beare,
For I am father of delight and pleasure euery where.
Without the help of whome, Dame Venus can not liue,
For vnto Lust and Riot both, doth Venus honor giue.
And Lust is Riots ioy, a spright that pleades for place
In euery soyle, since world began to boast of Adams race.
And now to tell you playne, from me, or from my stocke,
(An endlesse swarme of ydle folke, a merrie carelesse flocke)
As prating Poets fayne, at first did Venus spring,
But Venus was no strumpet sure; she was some finer thing
That alwayes furthers Loue, in French a M[illeg.]rca playne,
A beater of good bargaynes oft, and roote of fancyes vayne.
Though Goddesse were she not, yet faire and fine was she,
As I haue heard good Clarkes report, and you in Bookes shal see
Of hir great Storyes made, and great accompt thys day
We make of Venus darlings still, wherefore in briefe to say,
Both I and thousands more, with Venus needes must hold.
Twas she, to whome King Priams sonne did giue the apple of golde
That cost so many liues: but reade the seege of Troy,
And you shall see what prettie pranckes the mother and this boy
Hath playd in many partes, my knowledge is but small,
I tell by heeresay many things, but am not learnd at all
Good Wantonnesse thou knowst, but passe ore that awhile
I could tell tales of Venus yet, would make the hearers smile.

Wantonnesse.
O speake no more, come comfort Cupid now,
Let Venus go, that sate and saw with eye
The order great, and all the manner how
Dame Chastitie did mount to Starrie Skye
With such a Coatch, and such a noble spoyle,
As seldome hath in Heauen oft bin seene.
She sayd, when she had Cupid put to foyle,
She gaue his bowe and shaftes vnto a Queene.
And Cupid streight came running vnto me.
I saw him bare, and sent him bare away,
And as we are in deede but bare all three,
So must we part as poorely as we may.
No reasoning heere with him that learned is,
Philosophers knowes more than wanton fooles,
If we had once bin beaten well eare this
And lovd our Bookes, and truely plyde our Scholes,
We had bin learnd, yea livd, and felt no lacke,
Where now our wealth is all vpon our backe.

Riotte.
BY sweete Sainct Iohn we are in goodly weedes,
To daunce with belles a Morrice through the Streets.
If any heere, three ydle people needes,
Call vs in time, for we are fine for sheetes:
Yea, for a shift, to steale them from the hedge,
And lay both sheetes, and linnen all to gage.
We are best be gone, least some do heare alledge
We are but Roages, and clappe vs in the Cage.
Come Cupid come, if thou wilt heare a song,
Dame Chastitie hath sent hir Coatch along,
To comfort those, that dayly liues in wo.

Cupid.
Nay Cupid will, go hang himselfe I trow.
Much better were, to fall on poynt of knife,
Than from rich state, to leade a beggers life.

Cupid, Wantonnesse, and Riot, departs, and the Coatch softly commes on, with such Musicke as is deuised, and sings not, vntill the Coatch be before the Queene, in the meane while the Philosopher speaketh.
Philosopher.
Now world may iudge what fables are, & what vain gods ther be,
What names and titles fondlings giue, to thē, likewise you see,
And that one God alone doth rule, the rest no vertue showe,
Vayne Venus and blind Cupid both, and all the ragment rowe
And rabble of Gods, are fayned things, to make the season short,
As wisedome knowes that wel cā wey, the worth & weight of sport.
Through trifles light, sad things are sene, through vice is vertue foūd,
By hollow wayes, and crooked pathes, appeares the playnest ground.
Thus leauing vnto wisedomes reach, the things that heere are done,
And fearing foyle, if heere we should, in further folly runne,
We stay, saue that, some Musicke commes, to knitte in order due,
The substance of thys sillie Shew, that we present to you.

Modestie, Temperance, Good exercise and Shamefastnesse; the wayting Maydes of Chastitie returne, come in and Sing: and after that Modestie speaketh.
Modestie speaketh.
Dame Chastitie we serue, and wayte vpon hir still,
Saue now, that she is cald to Cloudes, to know Iehouas will.
She bad vs walke abroade, and searche, where might be seene
In stately troupe, and royall Court, a worthy noble Queene.
Salute hir in my name, and looke in secret sort
(Quoth she) you do with al your force, maynteyne hir princely port.
Good exercise as chiefe, thy humble dutie doo,
Let Shamefastnesse, and Modestie, and sober Temprance too,
Attend as handmaydes still, vpon that sacred dame.
We hearing what our mistresse sayd, & marking wel the same,
Did hast vs hither streight, but ere we went at large,
Iehoua sent vs Graces great, and gaue vs powre and charge,
(When pomp is most in place) to creepe in princely hart,
And gide the mind, & throughly serch, the soule & euery part.
That still the feare of God, be burning in hir brest,
Ther is the only house O Quene, wher we four maids wil rest,
There we will seruice shew, there shall our vertues budde,
Ther is the plot, the seate, the soyle, and place to do most good.
Yea vnder richest roabes, we haue a powre to goe,
In fairest weedes are cleanest thoughts, & purest minds I know.
The earlish Countrey cloyne, yea clad in smeared cloke,
With cāckred hart, & currish lokes, sits grinning in the smoke.
The comely cleane attire, doth carrie mind aloft,
Makes mā think scorne to stoupe to vice, & loke to Vertue oft.
The Sunne that shineth bright, hath vertues manifold,
A gallant floure hath pleasant smell, great goodnesse is in gold.
So gay and glittring Dame, thy graces are not small,
Thy heauenly gifts in greatest prease, in deede surmoūts thē all.