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ACT. 5.
SCÆ. 1.
The Curtaines are drawne by a Page, and Celia and Lauerdure, Quadratus, and Lyzabetta, Lampatho and Meletza Simplicius, and Lucea displayed sitting at Dinner. The Song is sung, during which a Page whispers with Simplicius.Qua.
Feede and be fat my fayre Calipolis,
Riuo heer's good iuice, fresh Burrage boy?
Lam.
I commend, commend my selfe to yee Lady.
Melet.
In troth Sir you dwell farre from neighbours that are
inforc'd to commend your selfe.
Qua.
Why Simplicius, whether now man, for good fashions
sake stirre not, fit still, sit still.
Sim.
I must needs rise, much good do it you.
Qua.
Doost thou thinke thy rising will do them much good,
sit still, sit still, carue me of that good Melletza: fill Bacchus fill.
Sim.
I must needs bee gone, and youle come to my Chamber
to morrow morning, Ile send you a hundred crownes.
Qua.
In the name of Prosperitie, what tide of happinesse so
suddeinly is flou'd vpon thee.
Sim.
Ile keepe a horse and foure boyes with grace of fortune
now.
Qua.
Now then ifaith get vp and ride.
Sim.
And I do not? Ile thwack a Ierkin till he groane againe
with Gold lace: let mee see, what should I desire of God, mary a
Cloake linde with rich Taffata, white Sattin sute, and my gilt
Rapier from pawne, nay shee shall giue me a Chaine of Pearle
that shall pay for all, good boy, good Sinior, good boye, good
Sinior.
Qua.
Why now, thou speaketh in the most imbrac'd fashion
that our time hugges, no sooner a good fortune, or a fresh sute
falles vpon a fellow that would ha beene guld to ha shou'd into
your society, but and he met you he fronts you with a faint eye,
throwes a squint glaunce ouer a wried shoulder and cryes
Sinior, good boy, good Sinior death: I will search the life
bloud of your hopes.
Sim.
And a fresh Pearle-colour silke stocking o IIII, Ile goe
to the halfe crowne ordinary euery meale, Ile haue my Iuory
boxe of Tobacco, Ile conuerse with none but Counts and Courtiers
—now good boy, good Sinior, a paire of massie siluer Spurs,
to a hatch short sword, and then your imbroderd hanger, and
good Sinior.
Qua.
Shut the windowes, darken the roome, fetch whips, the
fellow is madde, hee raues, hee raues, talkes idly, lunatique, who
procures thy—
Sim.
One that has eate fat Capon, suckt the boild Chicken, &
let out his wit with the foole of bounty, one Fabius, ile scorne
him, hee goes vpon Fridaies in black satten.
Qua.
Fabius, by this light, a cogging Clietor, he liues on loue
of Marchants wiues, hee stands on the base, of maines, hee
furnisheth your ordinary, for which he feeds scot-free, keepes
faire gold in his purse, to put on vpon maines, by which he liues
and keepes a faire boy at his heeles, he is dam'd Fabius.
Sim.
He is a fine man law, and has a good wit for when he list
he can go in black Sattin, I and in a cloake lin'd with vnshorne
Veluet.
Qua.
By the saluation of humanity he's more pestilent then the
plague of Lice that fell vpon Egipt, thou hast bin knaue if thou
credit it, thou art an Asse if thou follow it, & shalt be a perpetual
Ideot if thou persue it, renounce the world, the flesh, the Diuell,
and thy trust in mens wiues for they wil double with thee, and
so I betake my selfe to the sucking of the iuice Capon, my ingle
Bottle-ale, & his Gentleman vsher that squiers him red herring,
a foole I found thee & a foole I leaue thee, beare record heauē
tis against the prouidence of my speach, God boy good Sinior.
Enter Slip Nows, Doite, and Bydet.
Exit.
Sim.
Ha, ha, ha, God boy good Sinior, what a foole 'tis, ha, ha,
what an Asse 'tis, saue you young Gentlemen, is shee comming,
will she meete me, shal's incounter ha?
You were not lapt in your Mothers smock, you ha not a
good cheeke, an inticing eye, a smooth skinne, a well shapt leg,
a faire hand, you cannot bring a wench into a fooles parradize
for you?
Sim.
Not I by this garter, I am a foole, a very Ninny I, how
call you her? how call you her?
Byd.
Call her, you rise on your right side to day marry, call
her, her name is Mistresse Perpetuana, shee is not a very faire, nor
goes extraordinary gay.
Sim.
She has a good skinne?
Byd.
A good skin? she is wealthy, her husbands a foole, sheele
make you, she weares the breeches: sheele make you.
Sim.
Ile keepe two men and they shall be Taylors, they shall
make sutes continually, and those shall be cloath of siluer.
Byd.
You may go in beaten pretious Stones euery day, marry
I must acquaint you with some obseruances which you must
persue most religiously, she has a foole, a naturall foole waights
on her, that is indeed her pander to him, at the first you must be
bounteous, what-so-ere hee craues, bee it your Hatte, Cloake,
Rapier, Purse, or such trifle, giu't, giu't, the night will pay all: and
to draw all suspect, from persuing her loue for base gaine sake.
Sim.
Giu't by this light, Ile giu't, wert, gaine, I care not for
her Chaine of Pearle, onely her loue; gaine? the first thing her
boūty shal fetch is my blush colour Satten sute frō pawn: gaine?
Byd.
When you heare one winde a Coruet, shee is comming
downe Saint Markes streete, prepare your speech, suck your
lippes, lighten your spirits, fresh your bloud, sleeke your cheekes,
for now thou shalt be made for euer (a perpetuall and eternall
gull)
Sim.
I shall so rauish her with my court-ship, I haue such variety
of discourse, such coppy of phrase to begin, as this; sweete
Lady Vlisses Dog after his Maisters ten yeares trauell, I shall so
ticle her, or thus, Pure beauty there is a stone.
Slip.
Two stones man.
Sim.
Called, 'tis no matter what; I ha the eloquence, I am
not to seeke I warrant you.
Sweete Lady Vlisses dog, there's a stone called—, O Lord what
shall I say.
Slip.
Is all your eloquence come to this?
Sim.
The glorious radient of your glimmering eies, your glittering
beauties blind my witt, and dazled my—
Pippo.
Ile put on my maske and please you, pray you winke,
pray you.
Bidet.
O fine man, my mistresse loues you best, I dreamt you
game this sword and dagger, I loue your Hatte and Feather, O.
Sim.
Do not crie man, do not crie man, thou shalt ha them
I and they were—
Bydet.
O that purse with all the white pence in it, fine man I
loue you, giue you the fine red pence soone at night, he, I thanke
you where's the foole now?
Sim.
He has all my money, I haue to keepe my selfe, and—
Slip.
Poght.
Pippo.
Sir the foole shall lead you to my house, the foole shall
not, at night I expect you, till then take this seale of my affection.
Within Qua.
What Simplicius.
Sim.
I come Quadratus, Gentlemen as yet I can but thanke
you, but I must bee trusted for my ordinary soone at night, or
stay Ile—the foole has vnfurnisht mee, but 'twill come againe,
good boy.
Within, Qua.
What ho Simplicius?
Sim.
Good boy, good boyes, I come, I come, good boyes,
good boyes.
Byd.
The foole shall waight on thee, Now do I merrit to bee
yclipped Bosphoros Carmelydon Honorificacuminos Bydett, who
who has any square Dice?
Pippo.
Marry Sir that haue I.
Byd.
Thou shalt loose thy share for it in our purchase.
Pippo.
I pray you now, pray you now.
Byd.
Sooner the whissell of a Marriner,
Shall sleeke the rough curbes of the Ocean back,
Enter Quadratus, Lauerdure and Celia, Simplicius Meletza, Lyzabetta Lucea and Lampatho.
Pip.
Ha take all then, ha.
Qua.
Without cloake or hat or rapier figh,
Sim.
Gods me, looke yonder, who gaue you these things?
Byd.
Mistris Perpetuanos foole.
Sim.
Mistris Perpetuanos foole, ha, ha, there lies a iest, Sinior
the foole promised me he would not leaue me.
Byd.
I know the foole well, he will sticke to you, dos not vse to
for-sake any youth that is inamord on an other mans wife, hee
striues to keepe company with a crimson satten sute continually,
he loues to be alone with a Critique, a good wit selfe conceited,
a hauke bearer, a dogge keeper, and great with the nobility, hee
doates vpon a meere scholler an honest flat foole, but aboue all
hee is all one with a fellow whose cloake hath a better inside
then his out-side, and his body richer lin'd then his braine.
Sim.
Vds so I am cosoned.
Pip.
Pray you maister pardon me, I must loose my share.
Sim.
Giue me my purse againe.
Byd.
You gaue it me and Ile keept.
Qua.
Well done my honest crack thou shalt be my ingle
fort.
Lau.
He shall keepe all maugre thy beardles chin thy eyes.
Sim.
I may go starue till Midsomer quarter.
Qua.
Foole get thee hence,
Pip.
Ile to schoole againe that I will, I left in Asse in presenti,
and Ile begin in Asse in presenti and so good night faire gentry.
Exit Pippo.
Qua.
The triple Ideotts coxcombe crownes thee,
Bitter epigrames confound thee.
Cucold be when ere thou bride thee,
Through euery comick sceane be drawne,
Neuer come thy cloathes from pawne.
Neuer kisse a wench sweet breathed.
Cornets sound.
Enter as many Pages with Torches as you can, Randolfo and Adrian, Iacomo bare, the Duke with attendantes.
Ran.
Seace the Duke approacheth tis almost night,
For the Dukes vp, now begins his day
Come grace his entrance; lightes lightes now ginnes our play.
Duk.
Still these same bauling pipes, sound softer straines
Slumber our scence, tut these are vulger straines,
Cannot your trembling wiers throw a chaine
Of powerfull rapture bout our mazed scence
Why is our chaire thus cushion'd tapistry
Why is our bed tired with wanton sportes?
Why are we cloath'd in glistring attiers,
If common bloudes can heare, can, feele,
Can sit as soft, lie as lasciuious
Stut all as rich as the greatest Potentate,
Soule, and you cannot feast my thristing eares
With aught but what the lip of common berth can tast,
Take all away your labors idly wast
What sport for night.
Lam.
A Commedy, intitled Temperance.
Duk.
What sot elects that subiect for the Court,
What should dame Temperance do heere, away,
The itch on Temperance your morrall play.
Qua.
Duke, Prince, royall bloud, thou that hast the best
meanes to be damn'd of any Lord in Veince, thou great man, let
me kisse thy flesh, I am fat and therefore faithfull, I will do that
which few of thy subiects do; loue thee, but I will neuer do, that
which all thy subiects do; flatter thee, thy humors reall, good, a
Commedie?
Appropriat to the bloud of Emperors;
Peculier to the state of Maiesty,
Vouchafe to vew the structure of a sceane
That stands on tragike sollid passion,
O thats fit trafick to commerce with birthes:
Straind from the mud of base vnble braines,
Giue them a sceane may force their struggling bloud
Rise vp on tiptoe in attention,
And fill their intellect with pure elixed wit,
O thats for greatnesse apt, for Princes fit.
Duke.
Darst thou then vndertake to sute our eares,
With such rich vestment.
Qua.
Dare; yes my Prince I dare, nay more, I will,
And ile present a subiect worth thy soule:
The honor'd end of Cato Vtican.
Duk.
Whole personate him.
Qua.
Marry that wil I on suddaine without change.
Duk.
Thou want'st a beard.
Qua.
Tush a beard nere made Cato, though many mens Cato
hang onely on their chin.
The time the night that prolong'd Catos death:
Now being plac'd moung his Philosophers,
These first discourse the soules eternity.
Iaco.
Cato grantes that I am sure, for he was valiant, and honest,
which an Epicure nere was, and a coward neuer will be.
Qua.
Then Cato holdes a distinct notion,
Of indiuiduall actions after death:
This being argu'd his resolue maintaines,
A true magnanimous spirit should giue vp durt
To durt, and with his owne flesh dead his flesh,
Fore chance should force it crouch vnto his foe:
To kill ones selfe some I, some hold it no,
O these are pointes would intice away ones soule:
To breakes indenture of base prentisage,
Enter Francisco.
And run away from's boddy in swift thoughts
To melt in contemplation lushious sweetes,
Worth his creation: giue me audience.
Fran.
My leidge my royall leidge, heare, heare my sute.
Qua.
Now may thy breath nere smell sweete as long as thy
loungs can pant for breaking my speech, thou Muscouite, thou
stinking perfumer.
Enter Albano.
Duke.
Is not this Albano our some times Courtier?
Fran.
No troth but Francisco your alwaies perfumer.
Alba.
Lorenzo Celso our braue Venice Duke. Albano Belletzo,
thy Merchant, thy soldier, thy Courtier, thy slaue, thy any-thing,
thy What thou wilt, kisseth thy noble bloud, doe mee right or els
I am canonized a cuckold, canonized a cuckold, I am abus'd, I
am abusd, my wifes abusd, my cloathes abusd, my shape, my
house my all abusd, I am sworne out of my selfe, beated out of
my selfe baffled, geird at, laught at, bard my owne house, debard
my owne wife, whilst others swill my wines, gurmandize
my meat, meat, kisse my wife, O gods, O gods, O gods, O gods,
O gods.
Lauer.
Who ist? who ist?
Celia.
Come sweete this is your waggery yfaith, as if you
knew him not.
La.
Yes I feare I do too wel, would I could slide away invisible.
Duke.
Assured this is hee.
Iaco.
My worthy leidge the iest comes only thus.
Now to stop and crosse it with mere like deceite:
All being knowne the French knight hath disguisd,
A fiddler like Albano too, to fright the perfumer, this is all.
Duke.
Art sure tis true.
Melet.
Tis confest tis right.
Alba.
I tis right, tis true, right, I am a fiddler, a fiddler, a fiddler
vds fut a fidler; Ile not beleeue thee thou art a woman, and
tis knowne veritas non querit angulos, truth seekes not to lurke
vnder varthingalls, veritas non querit angulos, a fidler?
Lau.
Worthy sir pardon, and permit me first to confesse your
selfe, your deputation dead hath made my loue liue, to offend
you.
Alba.
I, mock on, skoffe on, flout on, do do do.
Troth sir in serious.
Alba.
I good, good, come hether Celia,
Burst breast, riue heart a sunder? Celia
Why startest thou back: seest thou this Celia
O me how often with lasciuious touch thy lip,
Hath kissd this mark? how oft this much wrong'd breast
Hath borne the gentle waight of thy soft cheeke?
Celia.
O me my deerest Lord, my sweete, sweete loue.
Alba.
What a fidler, a fidler? now thy loue.
I am sure thou skornst; it nay Celia, I could tell
What on the night before I went to sea,
And tooke my leaue with Hymeneall rights
What, thou lispsd
Into my eare, a fidler and perfumer now.
Adri.
And—
Ran.
Deere brother.
Iaco.
Most respected Sinior,
Beleeue it by the sacred end of loue,
What much, much wronge hath forc'd your patience
Proceeded from most deere affied loue,
Deuoted to your house.
Adri.
Beleeue it brother.
Iaco.
Nay your selfe when you shall heare the occurances
will say tis happy, commicall.
Ran.
Assure thee brother.
Alba.
Shall I be braue, shall I be my selfe now, loue, giue me
thy loue, brothers giue me your breasts, French knight reach me
thy hand, perfumer thy fist. Duke I inuite thee, loue I forgiue
thee: Frenchman I hug thee, Ile know all, ile pardon all, and Ile laugh at all.
Qua.
And ile curse you all.
O yee ha interrupt a sceane.
Duke.
Quadratus we will heare these pointes discussd,
With apter and more calme affected houres.
Qua.
Well, good, good.
Alba.
Wast euen so yfaith why then caprichious mirth,
Skip light moriscoes in our frolick bloud,
Flaggd veines, sweete, plump with fresh infused ioyes:
With chucking lightnesse, loue once more thy lippes,
For euer claspe our hands, our hearts, our Creasts,
Thus front, thus eyes, thus cheeke, thus all shall meete.
Shall clip, shall hug, shall kisse, my deere, deere sweete,
Duke wilt thou see me reuell, come loue daunce,
Court gallants court; suck amorous dalliance.
Lam.
Beauty your heart.
Melet.
First sir accept my hands.
Shee leapes too rash, that falls in suddeine bands.
Lam.
Shall I dispaire? neuer will I loue more.
Melet.
No sea so boundles vast but hath a shore.
Qua.
Why marry me.
Thou canst haue but soft flesh, good bloud, sound bones.
And that which fils vp all your bracks, good stones.
Lyzabet.
Stones, Trees and beasts in loue still firmer prooue,
Then man, Ile none no hold-fastes in your loues.
Lau.
Since not the Mistresse, come on Faith the maide.
Alba.
Ten thousand Duckets too to bote are laide.
Lau.
Why then winde Cornets, lead on iolly ladde.
Alla.
Excuse me gallants though my legges lead wrong.
'Tis my first footing, winde out nimble tongue.
Duke.
'Tis well, 'tis well, how shall we spend this night?
Qua.
Gulpe Rhenish Wine my liedge, let our paunch rent,
Suck merry Gellyes, preuiew but not preuent
No mortall can the miseries of life.
Alba.
I home inuite you all, come sweete, sweete wife,
My liedge vouchsafe thy presence, drinke till the ground looke
blew, boy.
Qua.
Liue still springing hopes, still in fresh new ioyes,
May your loues happy hit in faire cheekt wiues,
Your flesh still plumpe with sap'd restoratiues,
That's all my honest frolick heart can wish,
A Fico for the mew and Enuious pish,
Till night, I wish good food, and pleasing day,
But then sound rest, so ends or slight writ play.
Exeunt.
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