 | The Wizard |  |
ACT: 3.
Sce. 1.
Enter Cœlia and the Cook.Cœl:
J doe command thee in a mistriss name,
And powerfull word of servant; speak the truth
Did he (before thou acquainst him) tell thy losse.
Cook.
He did, exactly to a silver spoone
And cald me Cook to; nay he told me more
Then J was glad to hear.
Cœl:
Nothing about me?
Cook.
About my self; a Pasty scolding hot
All down my Christmas cloths must run
A judgment great J can not beare nor shun.
Cœl:
Yes another sute will saue thy cloths.
Cook.
O no Madame; nay J feare worse prodigies, for all the
eggs J broke for your Ladyships caudle were adle, and the
meat upon my fackings doth not drop currantly; the loyns of
mutton hardly yeild sufficient to baste 'um, and candles are
cheap already: last night J dreamt of nothing but fish; well
Hogs face shall pay for this; and yet he bid me haue mercy
on the slaue.
Enter Penelope.
Cœl:
O Sister! thou art come in happy time,
Sustaine them; ease me or J die with mirth.
Pen:
What fits are these? but now no lead so heavy
Now lighter then the aire or fire.
Cœl:
Cook?
Cook:
Madam:
Cœl:
Art thou not gone?
Cook:
Yes if J knew my errand.
Cœl:
Bid Will bring me my coach, yet stay
That is too slow, run quickly buy me feathers
And cause my maid make wings, and tack them on
Some on my feet and arms.
Cook:
What kind of wings?
Cœl:
Such as the wind and lightning flie withall,
And yet alass those are not swift enough,
J must haue such as help the flight of thought,
Of Louers thoughts, when after long delay
And curious weeving of most strang events
Theire e'ne now shipwrackt souls doe reach the port
Of joies unchangeable.
Cook:
Please you Madam J'le saue that labour, plounce but
into my Feather tub, and you'l come out a Lady bird streight.
Pen:
She is transported, you told me Cœlia
Jn this excesse of comfort, J had share,
Giue me enough; J'le bear as long a part
As you'l impose.
Cœl:
No, J can spare none now;
But like an almost famisht creature, think
No plenty able to appease the rage
Of my huge appetite.
Hog:
Now am J to performe a peice of service n'ere a rogue
in England would doe but my self; they are dull rascalls, and
know indeed how to steale, but with what credit? they dare
not stand to it and make good there trade, now J profess
my self a theif, which they dare as well be hang'd and doe,
and betray my self to the law and gallows, that J may escape
both; they are undone if they be once taken, J am undone if
J be not taken; this is your sublime roguery.
Cook:
Madam pray stand aside, now must J haue some
trick to draw off this fellows boots which are strapt with
silver spoons; friend Hog whither so fast ha?
Hog:
O J confesse, good—
S'life J am undone J thought the hand of law had clapt me
on the shoulder; O Mr Cook J protest you scar'd me, J cannot
endure to be toucht J am so ticklish.
Cook:
J, but oh you confesse, come confess and be hangd.
Hog:
Why J said J would confesse, but you put it out of
my head, and a cough hath taken me of late J cannot speak
without interruption of my lungs.
Cook:
Nay but confess man.
Hog:
And to that such a stich in my side, oh, oh, oh my
skin crumples and is gather'd togeather closer then your
breeches, my sides frizzle like burnt parchment; doe you not
perceaue it?
Cook:
Yes, 'tis all on a rustle as your boots are Hog; but
J'le tell you a remedy.
Hog:
What J pray?
Cook:
Capring as J doe.
J cannot rise from the ground the stitch has sowd me
to it.
Cook:
Yes, yes, come aloft sir, J protest you haue an
excellent shake with your legs, J beleiue you can cut a caper
well; sure your spindle shanks or your boots are lin'de with
tin? you need no spur, your boots gingle enough; good Hog
draw one of them off J'le try if J can match it.
Hog:
My boots are leather Sir.
Cook:
Nay but the inside sure is Okamy; come, come, J'le
be your drawer for once; why look Maddam, pray come neere,
J haue not seen a boot better lin'd; and they were fellowes
now what might they be worth? they come of very easily
with no stretch to your leg do they?
Pen:
But to his neck J fear they will.
Cœl:
O six and six very well disposd.
Hog:
Now my ransome is to come, some rogue would haue
stunck of hanging now, whereas J look to come cleanly off.
Cœl:
Goe to the pump with him quickly,
And cleans my house of such an unwasht slaue.
Cook:
Hog come a trough, a trough you must come to your
wash againe
Hog:
S'life do you call this comeing off?
Exeunt Hog. Cook.
Now can you blame me if with more then wings
J hast to such a man.
Pen:
Alass not J,
When that your businesse is to get a husband
All speed is not enough, this stay is sin
And to talk longer Capitall;
Cœl:
Yet stay;
Although this rogue is a sufficient proof
Of his misterious art, we will haue more;
We two will chang apparell, you as Cœlia
And J as you, we'l seek our fortunes out
Jf he descry this plot we need not doubt.
Exeunt.
Sce. 2.
Enter Sebastian.Antonio's gon and with him fled my fears,
There is not now a corner of my heart
Which pale dispair doth fill, J'me swolne with joy,
And now dare venter unto any witch
Secure and confident of good successe.
To feare, where to account the Gods as blind,
And rash disposers of their greatest guifts,
To joine the likest pattern to themselues,
And natures cunningst piece to such a thing
But for his shape you'd take to be a fool;
No, they haue got clowds and empty vapours
To cozen and delude the embraces
Of such Jxions; and for the other
T'were madnesse to imagine that now
Heav'n should prepare such an unseasonable
And unbeseeming Remora as a wife
Whome our most lusty dayes can but content
And for whose sake we wish perpetuall youth,
And fear to grow old men; no, the Gods are wise
And giue more ear unto his childrens prayers.
Who then can challeng Cœlia but my self?
J fear no witchcraft; he securely fights
Who striues against desertless opposites.
Exit.
Sce. 3.
Enter Antonio, Clerimont, Hog.Ant:
Did euer men
Take such great pains to be made fools and asses?
They shoulder one another, thrust and heaue
And all this sweat, and strong contention is
Who shall be soonest guld.
Cler:
O let 'um they'l be angry else; here, here's a help for
you a rogue in graine.
Ant:
May we trust him Brother?
Cler:
'Tis he that stole the spoons and with a Spartan
patience has been pumpt for't, hast thou not?
Hog:
'Tis as they say Sir, most true.
Ant:
Hog is thy name, is't not?
Hog:
My name is Hog Sir.
On with these trifles then
And that same gown; thou canst not be to rough.
Because the beast whose name thou bear'st
Js of most subtle sight, J'le make thee spie
And Argus in our knavery, thy eyes
Like planets must in every corner roue,
And if thou canst make firm discovery
Of Cœlia, or any of her maids, or Sutors
Resorting hither, bring me intelligence.
Hog:
What fee belongs unto my place Sir?
Ant:
Not a farthing,
We must abandon bribes, our Work is pay.
The very businesse is reward enough.
Hog:
Mr Clerimont! J'le be with your Brother but vpon
tryall no enrolling, no binding of me to such a cheap trade,
what nothing but my labour for my pains? let's haue somewhat,
though it be no more then gallants pay for their cloths, a tester
to the Taylors boy.
Cler:
Here's for thee; be sure Sirrah you work well you are
payd before hand.
Ant:
Goe in unto them; say J am spent with talk
And doe desire the witlesse residue
They would defer their being made fools untill
To morrow.
Hog:
Must they be entreated to be wise? but Sr how and
they will not be perswaded?
Ant:
Tell them they must be.
Exit Hog.
How canst thou satisfie so many heads?
Ant:
J'le tell thee how; The first thing that J doe
J binde them to beleeue before J speak
All J shall say;
Noe lie so rank but if J utter it
Js took for gospell; then J winde my self
Jnto their thoughts and get from them the skill
They seek from me, and tell them only that
Which J read written in their own desires.
Enter Hog.
Cler:
How now, what are they gone?
Hog:
All but 3, the Ladies Cook that washt me and two
Gentlewomen that haue maskt themselues from my intelligence,
and they must by all means speak with you.
Cler:
They are Cœlia and her sister on my life, or some of
the wenches of the house, whome the Cook with the relation
of your skill, made stark mad till they know their husbands.
Ant:
Are they maskt dost say?
Hog:
Hoodwinkt Sr, their heads are in a bag, no Hawks
were ever so mewd up.
Ant:
Usher them in; and brother only now
Exit Hog.
Your absence will be pleasing.
Cler:
J'me gone, what J say of Cœlia's sister longing
humour's true.
Saue the poor mayd from leading apes in hell.
Exit.
Pen:
Did you bid our Caroch man driue his horses from this
place and attend us an howre hence? Js this your learned
Master Sir?
Hog:
There is the eight wise man Ladies, none of your
upstart Conjurers, that haue a mouse, a squirrill or some such
thing or vermin for the lease of their liues upon their souls
security; he doth not speak in the Dialect of Hocus Pocus, or
peeps through an optick glasse into your purse, no, the prince
of the air buzzes answers into his ears; he is full of Pluto, and
breaths nothing but riddles, ænigma's and oracles; now he's
in private conference with a Legion, and anon you shall haue
such a tempest in the room with the muttering Devills, you'l
be afraid of being blown up, but stand your grown fast, J'le
tell him your Ladyships expect him.
Sir the Lady Cœlia and her Sister J am sure on't J haue talkt
the longer with 'um for firm intelligence, besides the Cook that
pumpt me for the spoons, promis'd fairer fees for his Lady
and her sister then broaken pasty, and desires you to remitt
the judgement upon his feast day cloths.
Ant:
O Ladies pardon me
That J doe now abandon all my skill
And rather could be proud of ignorance
Then these profound endowments: ô horror!
What rocks of perill must J run against?
Jf Cœlia by my arts discovery
E're it can purchase one poor minutes rest;
J see the rack and torment she endures
But dare not help although J pitty her;
O seek some other man; enough there bee,
Dear Lady, J'le direct you to them,
And be more gratefull that you will contemn
My pains and skill, then if you doe accept it.
Cœl:
Unmask sister we are discoverd
Through this cloud, yet still say you are Cœlia
And speak as if your cause were mine.
Pen:
O Sir
Doe not undoe her more whose griefs so great
The addition only of your stern deniall
Makes her most miserable, let not these tears
The few of all the store poor Cœlia has,
These even last drops, ô let not these be lost
And beg in vaine.
Ant:
How chang'd! thrice happy plot
That saues the man 'twould ruine and confound,
Thus long J haue expected your own selves
Weary of this dissembling would tell truth.
Why doe you mock me? or think you that you can?
Pen:
We are undone.
Cœl:
Let us confesse; and saue
the worse half of our fault, our impudence.
Ant:
Js there such craft in beauty? you'r Cœlia
Are you not? and you her sister? you err,
Could you imagine he that should diue into
The night of all your thoughts, and see through time
Obscure lie in present matters, or unable
To judg of what he saw before his face;
'Tis not your mask or vaile is dark enough
To hide you from my knowledg, hell it self
Js unto me transparent, and the night
Clear as noon day;
Pen:
Sir we confess our fault,
Great as your wrath, and pray you would impute it
To foolish curiosity, and no mistrust
Or doubt of your abilities.
Cœl:
You know
(What if you doe not) our hearts all well as us
And are acquainted with our very souls,
And those that gaue us them, the Gods; by whom
We dare not vainly swear, no harm was meant
Or trick to undermine or cozen you,
But to confirm our selues, least easinesse,
And our to forward fault, credulity;
Should in a matter of such consequence
Betray us to (what we can't now suspect)
Danger and folly.
Pen:
Now all rocks are gone
And quite remou'd by this auspicious fault,
Pardon me, that before your absolution
J call it happy.
Cœl:
Look Sir upon the crime
As you have made by discovering it,
A proof and testimony of your skill,
A miracle and a degree to advance
Your name aboue the height of popular voice
Neerer its own heav'n.
Ant:
Enough,
Though ne're so loud or rank will not goe downe
As glib as butter with a Dutchman; well
Provide you Ladies; J shall try you both
And put you to it; nay cease your reasons,
You haue o'recome; a pair so wise and faire,
He were not man, nor had a heart of flesh
Could hear you and not grant; and though J see
The hazard J shall run, and certaine shock
Of danger, yet such are your beauties power
And souls commanding faces, they at once
Sweeten and cause my fears; pray Ladies sit
And both of you prepare your hearts for a strange,
But welcome guest.
Cœl:
Jt must be comfort then,
Nothing but joy so strange, and nothing can
So welcome be;
Ant:
Jt is; are your breasts ready?
Pray try, or they are like imprison'd winds
In the too narrow conclaues of the earth
That violently rend a passage to their liberty
Through the close womb they were bred in.
Pen:
Expectation, the harbinger of joy;
Hath thrust out all my old familiars,
And swept my heart clean of a company
Of as good thoughts as any Lady would
Desire to part withall, there may be better,
Worse J'me sure cannot come into their place.
But tell me first what tis you most desire?
Come, be not bashfull, you may speak as freely
To me as to your midwife, confessor
Or Alters.
Cœl:
Sister you'r spoken to.
Pen:
An't please you Sir J'le answer for us both,
There is not so much difference in our wish,
Next to our health, what we most covet is
A—
Cœl:
Peace for shame Sister.
Ant:
J will not press upon your modesty,
Let it suffice, J know faire Cœlia's mind,
But dare not nominate the man, and point
Directly to him shall enjoy her bed;
Yet J will so declare, with half an eye
Her self shall tell, and certainely perceiue
Whom the kind fates declare the blessing to,
You haue 3 Suters now of eminence,
You had a fourth, unhappy Gentleman!
Cœl:
Had Sir? J hope J haue so still, or indeed
Furies were less accurst then Cœlia,
And cruel women when they would torment
Their louesick servants will invoke my name
Jnstead of Furies, and think it the more
Horrid auspice.
Ant:
Fear not, Antonio liues;
(So was his name) but such a kind of life
Wisemen would censure death, or whats beyond it
Hell; breifly he's not himself nor his own man.
Cœl:
Mad? and liue J and understand he's mad?
Strike me good heauens with a Lunacy
And make a reparation of his losse
Out of my rifled braine;
Alasse Sister,
Jt is not worth the trouble of the Gods
Nor would the patient be more wiser for't;
Unless you haue a greater quantity
Of witt, then any of your Sex beside:
Ant:
You err in calling Judgments on your self;
Though heau'n is arm'd, and Cyclops every day
Forg thunderbolts, 'tis not for us to dart
And through them as we please; we may duely
Deserue a punishment, but yet not choose
The whipp we'le suffer, or prescribe the judge
How to chastise us; you ask for madnesse;
And think you'r witty in demanding losse
Of wit, as though that justice wanted brains
As well as eyes, and knew not in what coine
To pay your losse.
Cœl:
Tell it, ô tell it Sr
J'me upon the rack untill J know my torment,
And fear they will be cruel and forgiue me,
Come my sentence.
Ant:
You must be married.
Pen:
Ha! ha! ha! my sentence to J hope twice told
Or Sister if you like not yours, take mine
And J'le adventer this.
Cœl:
Unto what monster?
Ant:
Just such a monster as my self, so weak
So feeble, and despis'd a man as age
And care haue made me; how like you this Lady?
Will you now chang with Coelia?
Pen:
Alas,
Fate doth admit no change, and in this matter
She must hold and t'were worse;
Cœl:
Why Sr
J see no such prodigies in wrincled brows
Should scare us from old men; doe we run away,
Or start when we behold our grandfathers?
Doe we not rather flie unto their arms?
Tender againe with age; and reverence them
As Gods on earth; methinks if that the man
You doe assigne me doe so well become
His years, and milk white haires as you doe;
J could play with his locks, and tell the swans,
And Jvory they were jett, compar'd with them;
And after their decease perchance might be
Thought white againe, then tye his flowing beard
Jnto a hundred Loue-knots, and liken them
To those we set in aged Saturnes picture:
O Sr let me but know the man, and i'le
Make him young againe with kisses, and infuse
Part of my soul into him at his lips.
Ant:
T'is pitty to delude her honest heart,
J stagger; but yet must not betray my self;
Attend dear daughter worthy the bed of kings
But destind to unequall nuptialls;
He that in years and face resembles me
Amognst thy Suters most, on him fates place
The blessing of thy marriage bed.
Cœl:
Thy years?
There is but one of all my Suters neer thy
Ant:
J, Youngloue's he
Or J in vaine haue studied Augurie.
Cœl:
Antonio, yet this recompence is left
Since that thy person and thy wits are fled
For ever from thee, since that our loues are crost,
J will loue him whom thou dost honour most.
Pen:
Now Sir what Monster doth remaine for me?
Jf it were possible J'de rather make
My husband one, then find him so.
Ant:
No, child
The fates haue spun a finer thred for you,
Compare them both, thine will appear as silk
And hers as cruell; yet there is strang art
And curious workmanship in this your thred
Which thus J doe untwist; you shall be sped
But in anothers name, anothers bed,
And she alone confers these joies on thee
Whose own contents, those that she giues, should be.
And he whose happy error causeth this
Shall gladly choose what he would gladly misse.
Pen:
Sr, you haue rather made a Gordian knot
Of this small thred, then any way untide it,
Cut it asunder, or the little world
You rest on will stand out inviolate.
Ant:
That must be left unto Sebastians strength
He is the Alexander must win that world,
Who easily may conquer, where you fight
To be o'recome, and losse is your delight.
Enter Hog.
Hog:
More geese Sr; what haue you been preaching to these
Ant:
What feather hast thou got now?
Hog:
Sprightfull Sebastian craues accesse unto your fatherhood.
Ant:
Ladies withdraw; unlesse you would be seen by the
maine hinge, on which both your fortunes hang.
Cœl:
Js our Caroch come?
Hog:
Not yet Madam, but if you please my Master shall
fetch him; t'is but a puff and the horses are here, another
blast and you'r at home.
Ant:
J haue a private room, and some slight pictures, which
if you please to honour with the sight, my man shall shew
them to you.
Cœl:
We thank you Sir
And doe desire none but your self may know
Our persons or our businesse.
Exeunt.
Ant:
You'r my charg;
And when the way's clear 'ile come and tell you
Now Sebastian if thy loue be noble
Thou shalt haue faire quarter, but if it stop
Unto disloyall sport and beastly end
Expect not me, who art not thy own friend.
| The Wizard | |