 | The Roman Actor |  |
ACTVS, II.
SCÆNA, 1.
Enter Philargus, Parthenius.Philarg.
My sonne to tutor me. Know your obedience
And question not my will.
Parth.
Sir were I one
Whom want compeld to wish a full possession
Of what is yours. Or had I euer numbred
Your yeeres, or thought you liu'd to long, with reason
You then might nourish ill opinions of me.
Or did the suite that I prefer to you
Concerne my selfe, and aim'd not at your good
You might denie, and I sit downe with patience,
And after neuer presse you,
Philarg.
I' the name of Pluto
What wouldst thou haue me doe?
Right to your selfe,
Or suffer me to doe it. Can you imagine
This nastie hat, this tatterd cloke, rent shooe,
This sordid linnen can become the master
Of your faire fortunes? whose superfluous meanes
(Though I were burthensome) could cloth you in
The costliest Persian silkes, studded with iewels
The spoyles of Prouinces, and euery day
Fresh change of Tirian purple.
Philarg.
Out vpon thee,
My monyes in my coffers melt to heare thee.
Purple, hence Prodigall. Shall I make my Mercer
Or Taylor my heyre, or see my Ieweller purchase?
No, I hate pride.
Parth.
Yet decencie would doe well.
Though for your outside you will not be alterd,
Let me preuaile so farre yet, as to winne you
Not to denie your bellie nourishment;
Neither to thinke you haue feasted when 'tis cramm'd
With mouldie barley bread, onions, and leekes,
And the drinke of bondmen water.
Philarg.
Wouldst thou haue me
Bee an Apicius, or a Lucullus,
And ryot out my state in curious sawces?
Wise nature with a little is contented,
And following her, my guide, I cannot erre.
Parth.
But you destroy her in your want of care
(I blush to see, and speake it) to maintaine her
In perfect health and vigor, when you suffer
(Frighted with the charge of Phisicke) Rheumes, Catars,
The Scurfe, Ach in your bones to grow vpon you,
And hasten on your fate with too much sparing.
When a cheape Purge, a Vomit and good dyet
May lengthen it, giue me but leaue to send
The Emperors Doctor to you.
Philarg.
Ile be borne first
Halfe rotten to the fire, that must consume me,
His Pills, his Cordials, his Electuaries,
Imagin'd Vnicornes horne comes in my bellie,
My mouth shall be a draught first, 'Tis resolu'd.
No; I'le not lessen my deare golden heape.
Which euerie houre increasing does renew.
My youth, and vigor, but if lessen'd, then,
Then my poore hartstrings cracke. Let me enioy it,
And brood ore't while I liue, it being my life,
My soule, my all. But when I turne to dust,
And part from what is more esteem'd by me
Then all the Gods, Romes thousand Altars smoke to,
Inherit thou my adoration of it,
And like me serue my Idoll.
Exit Philargus.
Parth.
What a strange torture
Is Auarice to it selfe! what man that lookes on
Such a penurious spectacle but must
Know what the fable meant of Tantalus,
Or the Asse whose backe is crack'd with curious viands
Yet feedes on thistles. Some course I must take,
To make my Father know what crueltie
He vses on himselfe.
Enter Paris.
Par.
Sir with your pardon,
I make bould to enquire the Emperours pleasure,
For, being by him commanded to attend
Your fauour may instruct vs what's his will
Shall be this night presented?
Parth.
My lou'd Paris,
Without my intercession you well know
You may make your owne approaches, since his eare
To you is euer open.
Par.
I acknowledge
His clemencie to my weakenesse, and if euer.
I doe abuse it, lightning strike me dead,
The grace he pleases to conferre vpon me
(Without boast I may say so much) was neuer
Impoly'd to wrong the innocent, or to incense
His furie.
Parth.
'Tis confess'd many men owe you
Forfeited to his anger, you being absent.
I could say more.
Par.
You still are my good Patron.
And lay it in my fortune to deserue it,
You should perceiue the poorest of your clients
To his best abilities thankefull.
Parth.
I belieue so.
Met you my Father?
Par.
Yes Sir, with much griefe.
To see him as he is. Can nothing worke him
To be himselfe?
Parth.
O Paris 'tis a waight
Sits heauie here, and could this right hands losse
Remoue it, it should off but he is deafe
To all perswasion.
Par.
Sir with your pardon,
I'll offer my aduice! I once obseru'd
In a Tragedie of ours, in which a murther
Was acted to the life, a guiltie hearer
Forc'd by the terror of a wounded conscience,
To make discouerie of that, which torture
Could not wring from him. Nor can it appeare
Like an impossibilitie, but that
Your Father looking on a couetous man
Presented on the Stage as in a mirror
May see his owne deformity, and loath it.
Now could you but perswade the Emperour
To see a Comedie we haue that's stilde
The Cure of Avarice, and to command
Your Father to be a spectator of it,
He shall be so Anotamiz'd in the Scæne,
And see himselfe so personated; the basenes
Of a selfe torturing miserable wretch
Truely describ'd that I much hope the obiect
Will worke compunction in him.
Parth.
There's your fee
I ne're bought better counsaile. Be you in readines
Par.
Sir when you please
Wee'l be prepar'd to enter. Sir the Emperour.
Exit Paris.
Enter Cæsar, Aretinus, Guard.
Cæs.
Repine at vs?
Aret.
Tis, more, or my informers
That keepe strict watch vpon him are deceiu'd
In their intelligence there is a list
Of male contents, as Iunius Rusticus
Palphurius, Sura, and this Ælius, Lamia,
That murmure at your triumphs as meere Pageants;
And at their midnight meetings tax your iustice
(For so I stile what they call tyrannie)
For Pætus Thrasea's death, as if in him,
Vertue her selfe were murther'd; nor forget they
Agricola (who for his seruice done
In the reducing Britanie to obedience)
They dare affirme to be remou'd with poyson,
And he compeld to write you a cohæyre
With his daughter, that his testament might stand,
Which else you had made void. Then your much loue
To Julia your neece, censur'd as incest,
And done in scorne of Titus your dead brother;
But the divorce Lamia was forc'd to signe
To her, you honour with Augusta's title,
Being onely nam'd, they doe conclude there was
A Lucrece once, a Collatine, and a Brutus,
But nothing Roman left now, but in you
The lust of Tarquin.
Cæs.
Yes, His fire, and scorne
Of such as thinke that our vnlimited power
Can be confin'd, dares Lamia pretend
An interest to that which I call mine?
Or but remember, she was euer his
That's now in our possession? fetch him hither.
The Gard goe of.
I'll giue him cause to wish he rather had
Shall we be circumscrib'd? let such as cannot
By force make good their actions, though wicked
Conceale, excuse or qualifie their crimes:
What our desires grant leaue, and priuiledge to
Though contradicting all divine decrees,
Or lawes confirm'd by Romulus, and Numa,
Shall be held sacred.
Aret.
You should else take from
The dignitie of Cæsar.
Cæs.
Am I master
Of two and thirtie Legions, that awe
All Nations of the triumphed world,
Yet tremble at our frowne, yeeld an accompt
Of whats our pleasure to a priuate man?
Rome perish first, and Atlas shoulders shrinke,
Heav'ns fabrique fall; the Sunne, the Moone, the Stars
Loosing their light, and comfortable heate,
Ere I confesse, that any fault of mine
May be disputed.
Aret.
So you preserue your power
As you should equall, and omnipotent heere,
With Jupiters aboue.
Parthenius kneeling whispers to Cæsar.
Cæs.
Thy suite is granted
What ere it be Parthenius for thy seruice
Done to Augusta. Onely so? a trifle.
Command him hither. If the Comedie faile
To cure him, I will minister something to him
That shall instruct him to forget his gold,
And thinke vpon himselfe.
Parth.
May it succeed well
Since my intents are pious.
Exit Parthenius.
Cæs.
We are resolu'd
What course to take, and therefore Aretinus
Inquire no farther. Goe you to my Empresse,
And say I doe entreate (for she rules him
Whom all men else obey) she would vouchsafe
The musicke of her voice, at yonder window,
Exit Aretinus.
My crueltie with some scorne, or else tis lost.
Reuenge, when it is vnexpected falling,
With greater violence; and hate clothed in smiles,
Strikes, and with horror dead the wretch that comes not
Prepar'd to meete it. Our good Lamia welcome.
Enter Lamia with the Guard.
So much we owe you for a benefit
With willingnes on your part conferd vpon vs,
That 'tis our studie we that would not liue
Ingag'd to any for a courtesie,
How to returne it.
Lam.
'Tis beneath your fate
To be oblig'd that in your owne hand graspe
The meanes to be magnificent.
Cæs.
Well put off
But yet it must not doe, the Empire, Lamia,
Diuided equally can hold no waight,
If ballanc'd with your guift in faire Domitia.
You that could part with all delights at once,
The magazine of rich pleasures being contain'd
In her perfections, vncompell'd deliuer'd.
As a Present fit for Cæsar. In your eyes
With teares of ioy, not sorrow, 'tis confirm'd
You glory in your act.
Lam.
Derided too!
Sir this is more.
Cæs.
More then I can requite
It is acknowledg'd Lamia. There's no drop
Of melting nectar I tast from her lippe,
But yeeldes a touch of immortalitie
To the blest receiuer; euery grace and feature,
Priz'd to the worth, bought at an easie rate;
If purchas'd for a Consulship. Her discourse.
So rauishing, and her action so attractiue,
That I would part with all my other senses
Prouided I might euer see, and heare her.
The pleasures of her bed I dare not trust
The windes or ayre with, for that would draw downe
From all the Gods vpon mee.
Lam.
Your compassion
To me in your forbearing to insult
On my calamitie which you make your sport,
Would more appease those Gods you haue prouok'd
Then all the blasphemous comparisons,
You sing vnto her praise.
Cæs.
I sing her praise?
'Tis farre from my ambition to hope it.
Musicke aboue and a song.
It being a debt she onely can lay downe,
And no tongue else discharge. Harke. I thinke promped
With my consent that you once more should heare her,
She does begin. An vniuersall silence
Dwell on this place. 'Tis death with lingring torments
To all that dare disturbe her. Who can heare this
The song ended Cæsar goe on.
And falls not downe and worships? in my fancie,
Apollo being iudge on Latinos hill,
Faire hayr'd Calliope on her iuorie Lute
(But something short of this) sung Ceres prayses
And grieslie Pluto's rape on Proserpine.
The motion of the Spheares are out of time
Her musicall notes but heard, Say Lamia, say,
Is not her voice Angelicall?
Lam.
To your eare.
But I alas am silent.
Cæs.
Bee so euer,
That without admiration canst heare her.
Malice to my felicitie strikes thee dumbe,
And in thy hope, or wish to repossesse
What I loue more then Empire, I pronounce thee
Guiltie of treasson. Off with his head. Doe you stare?
By her, that is my Patronesse, Minerua,
(Whose Statue I adore of all the Gods)
If he but liue to make reply thy life
The Guard lead off Lamia stopping his mouth.
Shal answer it. My feares of him are freed now
And he that liu'd to vpbraid me with my wrong
For an offence he neuer could imagine
Plurality of husbands shall no more
Breede doubts or iealousies in you. 'Tis dispatch'd
And with as little trouble heere, as if
I had kild a flye. Now you appeare and in
Enter Domitia, vsherd in by Aretinus, her traine with all state borne vp by Julia, Cænis, and Domitilla.
That glorie you deserue, and these that stoope
To doe you seruice in the acte much honourd.
Iulia forget that Titus was thy Father,
Cænis and Domittilla ne're remmeber
Sabinus, or Vespatian. To be slaues
To her, is more true liberty then to liue
Parthian or Asian Queenes. As lesser stars
That waite on Phæbe in her full of brightnes.
Compar'd to her you are (thus I feare you)
By Cæsars side. Commanding these that once
Were the adored glories of the time
To witnes to the world they are your vassals
At your feete to attend you.
Domit.
Tis your pleasure
And not my pride. And yet when I consider
That I am yours, all duties they can pay
I doe receiue as circumstances due
To her you please to honour.
Enter Parthenius with Philargus.
Parth.
Cæsars will
Commaunds you hither, nor must you gaine-say it.
Phil.
Loose time to see an Enterlude? must I pay to
For my vexation?
Parth.
Not in the Court,
It is the Emperours charge.
Phil.
I shall endure
My torment then the better.
Cæs.
Can it bee
This sordid thing Parthenius is thy Father?
No actor can expresse him. I had held
The fiction for impossible in the Scæne,
And giue attention, if you but nod
You sleepe for euer. Let them spare the Prologue,
And all the Ceremonies proper to our selfe
And come to the last act, there where the cure
By the Doctor is made perfect. The swift minutes
Seeme yeeres to me Domitia that diuorce thee
From my embraces. My desires encreasing
As they are satisfied all pleasure else
Are tedious as dull sorrowes. Kisse me, againe:
If I now wanted heate of youth, these fires
In Priams veines would thaw his frozen bloud,
Enabling him to get a second Hector
For the defence of Troy.
Domit.
You are wanton?
Pray you forbeare. Let me see the Play.
Cæs.
Begin there.
Enter Paris like a Doctor of Physicke, Æsopies, Latinus brought forth a sleepe in a chayre, a key in his mouth.
Æsop.
O master Doctor he is past recouerie
A lethargie hath ceas'd him. And howeuer
His sleepe resemble death his watchfull care
To guard that treasure he dares make no vse of,
Workes strongly in his soule.
Par.
What's that he holdes
So fast betweene his teeth?
Æsop.
The key that opens
His iron chests cramn'd with accursed gold,
Rustie with long imprisonment. There's no dutie
In me his sonne, nor confidence in friends,
That can perswade him to deliuer vp
That to the trust of any.
Philarg.
He is the wiser
We were fashion'd in one mould.
Æsop.
He eates with it,
And when deuotion calles him to the Temple
That held thus still, his orisons are payde;
Or will he though, the wealth of Rome were pawn'd
For the restoring of it for one short houre
Be wonne to part with it.
Philarg.
Still, still my selfe.
And if like me he loue his gold, no pawne
Is good securitie.
Par.
I'll trie if I can force it.
It will not be. His auaritious mind
(Like men in riuers drown'd) makes him gripe fast
To his last gaspe what he in life held dearest.
And if that it were possible in nature
Would carry it with him to the other world.
Philarg.
As I would doe to hell rather then leaue it.
Æsop.
Is he not dead?
Long since to all good actions
Or to himselfe, or others, for which wise men
Desire to liue. You may with safetie pinch him,
Or vnder his nayles sticke needle, s yet he stirs not,
Anxious feare to loose what his soule dotes on
Renders his flesh insensible. We must vse
Some meanes to rouse the sleeping faculties
Of his mind, there lies the Lethargie. Take a Trumpet
And blowe it into his eares, tis to noe purpose
The roring noyse of thunder cannot wake him.
And yet despaire not I haue one tricke yet left
Æsop.
What is it?
Par.
I will cause a fearefull Dreame
To steale into his fancie, and disturbe it
With the horror it brings with it, and so free
His bodyes Organs.
Domit.
'Tis a cunning fellow,
If he were indeed a Doctor as the play fayes,
He should be sworne my seruant, gouerne my slumbers
And minister to me waking.
Par.
If this faile
A chest brought in.
I'll giue him ore. So with all violence
Bound vp in fetters, and in the defence
Of what he values higher, 'twill returne
And fill each veine and arterie. Lowder yet.
'Tis open, and alreadie he begins
To stirre, marke with what trouble.
Latinus stretches himselfe.
Philarg.
As you are Cæsar
Defend this honest thriftie man, they are theeues,
And come to rob him.
Parth.
Peace the Emperour frownes.
Par.
So now powre out the bags vpon the Table,
Romoue his iewels, and his bonds, againe.
Ring a second golden peale, his eyes are open.
He stares as he had seene Medusas head,
And were turn'd marble. Once more.
Lat.
Murther, murther,
They vs murther, murther. My sonne in the plot?
Thou worse then paracide if it bee death
To strike thy Fathers body, can all tortures,
The furies in hell practise, be sufficient
For thee that doest assassinate my soule?
My gold! my bonds! my iewels! dost thou envie
My glad possession of them for a day?
Extinguishing the Taper of my life
Consum'd vnto the snuffe?
Par.
Seem not to mind him.
Lat.
Haue I to leaue thee rich denied my selfe
The ioyes of humaine being? Scrap'd and horded
A masse of treasure, which had Solon seene
The Lidian Cræfus had appear'd to him
Poore as the begger Irus. And yet I
Sollicitous to encrease it, when my intrayles
Were clem'd with keeping a perpetuall fast,
Was deafe to their loud windie cries, as fearing
Should I disburse one peny to their vse,
My heyre might curse me. And to saue expence
In outward ornaments, I did expose
My naked body to the Winters cold,
And Summers scorching heate. Nay when diseases
Had purchas'd my recouerie, I chose rather
To haue my ashes clos'd vp in my vrne,
By hasting on my fate, then to diminish
The gold my prodigall sonne, while I am liuing,
Carelessely scatters.
Æsop.
Would you would dispatch and die once.
Your Ghost should feele in hell, that is my slaue
Which was your master.
Philarg.
Out vpon thee varlet.
Par.
And what then followes al your carke, and caring,
And selfe affliction when your staru'd truncke is
Turn'd to forgotten dust? This hopefull youth
Vrines vpon your monument. Ne're remembring
How much for him you suffer'd. And then tells
To the companions of his lusts, and ryots,
The hell you did indure on earth to leaue him
Large meanes to be an Epicure; and to feast
His senses all at once, a happines
You neuer granted to your selfe. Your gold then
(Got with vexation, and preseru'd with trouble)
Maintaines the publicke stewes, pandars, and ruffians
That quaffe damnations to your memorie,
For liuing so long here.
Lat.
'Twill be so, I see it.
O that I could redeeme the time that's past
I would liue, and die like my selfe; and make true vse
Of what my industrie purchas'd.
Par.
Couetous men
Hauing one foote in the graue lament so euer.
But grant that I by Art could yet recouer
Your desperate sicknes, lengthen out your life
A dozen of yeeres, as I restore your body
To perfect health, will you with care endeuour
To rectifie your mind
Lat.
I should so liue then
As neither my heyre should haue iust cause to thinke
I liu'd too long for being close handed to him,
Par.
Haue your desires
Phæbus assisting, mee I will repayre
The ruin'd building of your health, and thinke not
You haue a sonne that hates you; the truth is
This meanes with his consent I practis'd on you,
To this good end, it being a deuice
In you to shew the Cure of Avarice.
Exeunt Paris, Latinus, Æsopus.
Phil.
An old foole to be guld thus ! had he died
As I resolue to doe, not to be alter'd,
It had gone off twanging.
Cæs.
How approue you sweetest,
Of the matter, and the Actors?
Domit.
For the subiect
I like it not, it was filch'd out of Horace,
Nay I haue read the Poets but the fellow
That play'd the Doctor did it well by Venus;
He had a tunable tongue and neate deliuery,
And yet in my opinion he would performe
A louers part much better. Prethee Cæsar
For I grow wearie let vs see to morrow
Jplus and Anaxerete.
Cæs.
Any thing
For thy delight Domitia. To your rest
Till I come to disquiet you. Wayte vpon her.
There is a busines that I must dispatch
And I will straight be with you.
Exeunt Aretinus, Domitiæ, Iulia, Cænis, Domitilla.
Parth.
Now my dread Sir
Endeuour to preuayle.
Cæs.
One way or other.
Wee'l cure him neuer doubt it. Now Philargus
Thou wretched thing, hast thou seene thy sordid basenesse?
And but obseru'd what a contemptible creature
A couetous miser is? dost thou in thy selfe
Feele true compunction! with a resolution
To be a new man?
Philarg.
This craz'd bodies Cæsars,
But for my minde.
Trifle not with my anger.
Canst thou make good vse of what was now presented?
And imitate in thy suddaine change of life,
The miserable rich man, that expres'd
What thou art to the life.
Philarg.
Pray you giue me leaue
To dye as I haue liu'd. I must not part with
My gold, it is my life. I am past cure.
Cæs.
No; by Minerua thou shalt neuer more
Feele the least touch of auarice. Take him hence
And hang him instantly. If there be gold in hell
Inioy it, thine here and thy life together
Is forfeited.
Philarg.
Was I sent for to this purpose?
Parth.
Mercie for all my seruice, Cæsar mercie
Cæs.
Should Ioue pleade for him. 'Tis resolu'd he dyes,
And he that speakes one sillable to disswade me,
And therefore tempt me not. It is but iustice.
Since such as wilfully, will hourely dye,
Must tax themselues, and not my crueltie.
Exeunt omnes.
The end of the second Act.
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