 | Hollands Leagver |  |
Act. 1.
Scen. 1.
Fidelio, Snarle.Fid.
What Snarle, my deare Democritus, how is't?
You are a Courtier growne, I heare.
Snarl.
No Sir:
Thats too deepe a mystery for me to professe,
I spend my owne revenewes, onely I have
An itching humour to see fashions.
Fidel.
And what haue you obseru'd, since you came hither?
Snarl.
Why they doe hold here the same Maxime still;
That to dissemble, is the way to live:
But promotion hangs all vpon one chaine,
And thats of gold; he that intends to climbe,
Must get up by the linkes; and those are tyed
Together, with the thread of my Lords favor.
Fidel.
So Sir.
Snar.
And all desire to live long, and healthy;
But ambition and luxury will not permit it.
Fid.
I hope you doe not share in their desires.
Sna.
There is other preposterous dealing too;
For nature cannot finde her selfe amongst them,
They cannot be distinguished asunder;
And for your times and seasons of all ages;
Your best Astrologer cannot discerne them,
Not Spring from Autumne; you shall have a Lady,
Whose cheeke is like a scrue, and every rinkle
Would looke like a furrow, yet with a garnish
Is so fild up and plaistred, that it lookes
As fresh as a new painted Taverne onely
Fid.
Hold there, you'll run your self out of breath else:
And now resolve me of the Lord Philautus:
Is all that true that is reported of him?
Snar.
Who, he? the most besotted on his beauty;
He studies nothing but to court himselfe;
No Musicke but the harmony of his limbes;
No worke of art but his owne symmetry,
Allures his sense to admiration.
And then he comes forth so bath'd in perfumes,
Had you no sense to guide you, but your nose,
You'd thinke him a Muske-cat, he smels as ranke,
As th'extreame unction of two funerals.
Fid.
My sence will nere be able to endure him.
Sna.
Such men as smell so, I suspect their savour.
Fid.
Is none his friend to tell him of his faults?
Sna.
There want nor some, that seeke to flatter him;
For great mens vices are esteem'd as vertues.
Fid.
O they are still in fashion: in them
A wry necke is a comely president:
Disorder, disagreement in their lives
And manners is thought regular, their actions
Are still authenticke, if it be receiv'd;
To be illiterate, is a point of state.
But the worst thing which I dislike in him,
Which he does more by words then action;
He gives out that the Ladies dote upon him,
And that he can command them at his pleasure,
And swears, there's scarce an honest woman.
Fid.
How.
It is not well to say so, but by this light,
I am of his minde too.
Fid.
You are deceiv'd,
There are a thousand chaste.
Snar.
There was an age
When Iuno was a maide, and Ioue had no beard,
When miserable Atlas was not opprest
With such a sort of Dieties, and each
Din'd by himselfe: before Vshers and Pages
Swarm'd so, and Banquets, and your Masques came up
Riding in Coaches, visiting, and Titles,
So many Playes, and Puritan preachings,
That women might be chaste; now 'tis impossible:
Now should I finde such a prodigious faith,
I'de honour't with a sacrifice.
Fid.
Tis ill
To be incredulous, when charity
Exacts your beleefe: but let that passe:
What will you say, if I finde out a meanes
To cure him of his folly?
Snar.
Then I pronounce
The destruction of Bedlam, and all mad folkes
Shall be thy patients.
Fid.
Nay, I'll doe it:
I'll make him in love, and doe it.
Snar.
That's a cure
Worse then any disease. I can as soone
Beleeve a fire may be extinct with oyle,
Or a Fever coold with drinking of Sacke.
Fid.
Suspend your judgement, till I confirme you.
Snarl.
No more, stand by, here comes the Parasite.
That is Narcissus, and this is his Eccho.
Fid.
What is he?
Snar.
One that feeds all mens humors, that feed him,
Can apprehend their iests, before they speake them,
And with a forced laughter play the Midwife,
To bring them forth, and carries still in store
A Plaudite, when they breake wind, or urine.
He fits his Master right, although he nere
Tooke measure of him, and though he has not beene
Hee'll rather vex you with officiousnesse
Then you shall passe unsaluted: his businesse
Is onely to be busie, and his tongue's still walking,
Though himselfe be one of the worst moveables:
A confus'd lumpe leavened with knavery.
Stand by a little, and let's heare his discourse.
Scen. 2.
Ardelio, Ieffry, Fidelio, Snarle.Ard.
Ieffry come hither.
Ieff.
Sir, I wait upon you.
Ard.
Ieffry, you know that I have ever beene
Indulgent to your knaveries.
Ieff.
I thanke your worship, you haue euer beene my friend.
Ard.
Wink'd at your faults.
Ieff.
True.
Ard.
And the reason is,
Because I still am welcome to thy wife.
Ieff.
Your worship may be welcome there at all times.
Ard.
Honest Ieffry, thou shalt lose nothing by it.
You know my authority in the house: my Lord
Puts all the care into my hands, has left mee
The managing of his estate, because
I know the way to humour him.
Ieff.
That is an euident to ken of your worships wisdome.
Ard.
And none of them have any place or being,
Without my suffrance.
Ieff.
Sir, you are of power to disperse us like attomes.
Ard.
Therefore I expect the reuerence is due unto my place.
Ieff.
And reason good.
Ard.
Well, for thy honest care,
I meane to substitute thee under mee
In all inferiour matters, for I meane
To take my case, and pamper up my Genius,
Or any thing belongs unto the Kitchin;
Let me alone,
Ieff.
Yes Sir, your providence
Has shew'd it selfe sufficiently that way.
Ard.
I'll take the ayre in his Coach, eat of the best,
And for my priuate drinking, I wlll haue
My choyce of Wines, fild out of vessels, whose age
Has worne their Countries name out, and their owne,
Like some unthankfull Hospitall, or Colledge,
That has forgot their Founder.
Snar.
To what purpose,
I wonder, should Nature create this fellow?
He is good for nothing else, but to maintaine
The mutinie of the Paunch, against the members.
Keepe him from his Whore, and his Sacke, and you
Detaine him from his center.
Ard.
By the way,
I will acquaint thee with a secret Ieffry,
Ieff.
What's that, Sir?
Ard.
I doe love a pretty Wench well.
Ieff.
Tis the onely gentile humor that is extant.
Ard.
I will not leave my recreation that way
For a whole Empire, 'tis my summum bonum,
My sole felicity, tickles my conceit,
But not a word.
Ieff.
Not I by any meanes, Sir?
Ard.
And for this cause, I meane t'apply my selfe
Wholly to my Venery. I feele this heat
Renewes my bloud, and makes me younger for it.
And thou shalt keepe one for me at thy house.
Ieff.
Where, at my house?
Ard.
I, there, a heauy burthen
Of fleshly desires, daily growes upon me;
And ease workes on my nature, once a weeke,
When I am ballasted with wine, and lust,
I'll saile to my Canaries.
Ieff.
And unlade there.
Wilt keep her for me, & let none come neere her.
Ieff.
I haue had such favour at your worships hands,
That should good fortune come in humane shape
To tempt your Mistris, I'de not let her in.
Ard.
I'll procure thee the Lease of thy house free,
And when I haue done, I'll see it shan't stand empty:
Hast thou any good roomes for Stowage there?
Ieff.
Spare roomes enough, Sir, why doe you aske?
Ard.
Because I will convay away some Houshold stuffe.
That's not amisse.
Ief.
No Sir.
Ard.
Tis quite against my nature to see any vacuum.
Besides, 'tis not an age to be honest in.
Ieff.
That's the high way to pouerty.
Ard.
I meane to make the benefit of my place therefore.
And when I haue done, I'de faine see all your Artists,
Your Polititians with their Instruments
And Plummets of wit, sound the depth of mee.
Ieff.
It lyes not in the reach of man to fathome it.
Ard.
Were I set in a place of Iustice now,
They would admire me, how I should become it;
Cough on the Bench of State, sit in my night-cap,
Stroke out an Apophthegme out of my beard,
Frame a grave City face, jeere at offenders,
Cry out upon the vices of the times,
O Tempores, O morums.
Snar.
How the rancke Raskall
Is overgrowne with flesh and villanie?
Ard.
This getting of monie is a mysterie,
Is to be learnt before a mans Alphabet,
No matter how, tis suppos'd, he that has it
Is wise and vertuous, though he be obscure,
A fugitive, and perjur'd, any thing,
He, and his cause, shall neither want for friends.
He is the chicke of the white Hen, old Fortune:
What ere he treads upon, shall be a Rose.
He shall be invited to his Capon, and Custard,
Ride to the Sheriffs a feasting on his Foot cloth,
With please you eat of this, or that, my Noble,
My Right Worshipfull brother? your rich men
Shall striue to put their sonnes to be his Pages,
And their wives to be his Concubines.
Ieff.
Shall marry young ones a purpose for him.
Snar.
Very likely.
Ard.
No more, be gone, I heare my Lord a comming,
I'll send thee my Wench, marke me, keepe her close:
Ieff.
Beleeve it, not a breath of ayre comes neere her,
But what steales in at the window.
Ard.
'Tis well said.
Ieff.
But stay, Sir, will she not be too great a charge
To keepe her to your selfe, what if you hir'd her
By the moneth, as your Factors doe beyond Sea,
And when she is growne old and leakie, Sir,
Mend her i'th docke, and fraught her ore for Holland.
Ard.
I, ore the water, 'twas well thought upon.
I thinke, and shee were trimd up, shee would serue
At last for such a voyage well enough.
What wilt thou say, when I haue done with her,
If I doe make thee Master of my bottome?
Ieff.
Who me? the divell shall be the Pilote first,
Ere I come neere their quick-sands, their base roads.
They haue a dangerous Key to come into.
Ard.
What ere the Key be, still the dore's kept fast.
Ieff.
As strict as an Aldermans at dinner time:
I, and the way to hell is growne so narrow,
A man's in danger to passe ore, for if
VVe reele beside the bridge, straight we shall fall
Into a Lake that will softly dight us,
Darker and deeper, then Styx or Cocitus.
Adr.
Well rim'd Ieffry, this knaue will come in time,
By being often in my Company,
And gleaning but the refuse of my speech,
T'arrive at some proportion of wit,
But to avoid suspition, be gone.
Exit Ieffry.
Now would I see the man that should affront me.
And talke as superciliously, and walke
As stately, as the Warden of a colledge,
Vntill I haue made a right Pupill of him.
Scen. 3.
Snarle, Fidelio, Ardelio.Snar.
How now Ardelio, what? so melancholy?
Ard.
Faith all this day I haue bin so imploid
With setting things in order, and provisions,
I can compare my paines to nothing lesse,
Then a Lord Generals.
Snar.
Why what's the matter?
Ard.
Things must be ordered, and there's nothing
Done, unlesse I ouersee it; my industry
Must marshall the Dishes, put the Stooles in ranke,
See the Wood set upon the carriages,
Sharpen the Knives; all these witnesse my care
The very shining of the Candlestickes
Acknowledge my directions.
Snar.
Tis much,
The strange activity that some men haue
To dispatch businesse.
Ard.
Why Sir, did you never
Heare how Apelles pictured Homer spewing,
And all the Poets gaping to receive it?
Snar.
Yes, and what then?
Ard.
In the same manner doe I,
Vpon the Hushers, the Clarks, and the Butlers,
The Cookes, and other Officers, 'mongst whom
I finde to be a drought of understanding,
Showre downe the dregs of my counsell.
Snar.
They are like to be well edified.
Ard.
Here comes my Lord, make roome for my Lords grace.
Scen. 4.
Philautus, Triphæna, Trimalchio, Ardelio. Snarle, Fidelio.Ard.
God save your honour, may your flourishing youth
Enioy an everlasting spring of beauty,
And know no Autumne.
Philau.
Thankes good Ardelio:
Your wishes haue effect, this is the tree,
Vnder whose shadow Flora builds her Bower,
And on whose branches, hangs such tempting fruit,
Would draw faire Atalanta from her course;
An Altar, on which Queenes should sacrifice
Their scorned loves: Nature will scarce beleeve
It is her owne invention, and repines
She has no way to be incestuous.
Triphæ.
Mr. Trimalchio, I am sicke to heare him.
I can't abide these repetitions,
And tedious Encomiums of himselfe:
Let you and I walke a turne in the Garden.
Trim.
You are the onely Garden of my delight,
And I your deare Adonis, honour'd Lady.
Exeunt Trimalchio, Triphæna.
Philau.
Ardelio, tell me how this suit becomes me?
Ard.
Exactly well, Sir without controuersie,
And you weare it as neatly.
Philau.
Nay I have
A reasonable good Taylor, I hope he has not
Survayd me so long, but he knowes my dimensions.
I thinke, I may venter i'th presence with it.
Ard.
I'th presence, I, and Iove were in the presence,
You'd thrust Ganimede out of his office.
Philau.
What thinke you Gentlemen?
Fid.
We all doe wish,
Your beauty, or your vanity were lesse.
Proves your disgrace, you take the edge of prayse oft,
Is due to you, by too much whetting it.
Philau.
I should prove too injurious to my selfe,
Should I passe over, with a slight regard,
This building, Nature has solemnized
With such Magnificence, to which I owe
The loves of Ladies, and their daily presents,
Their hourely solicitations with letters,
Their entertainments when I come, their plots
They lay to view me, which should I recount,
'Twould puzzell my Arithmeticke, and to answer
Their uniust desires, would aske the labours
Of some ten Stallions.
Ard.
And make all jades of them.
Fid.
You are the Center of all womens love then.
Philau.
'Tis true, I haue a strange attractive power
Over your females, did you never heare of
Three Goddesses, that stroue on Ida hill,
Naked before a shepheard, for a Ball,
With an inscription; Let the fairest have it.
Fidel.
And what of those?
Phil.
Bring them all three before me:
If I surprize them not all at first dash,
If they fall not together by the eares for mee,
Nay, if they runne not mad, and follow mee,
As if they were drunke with a loue potion,
Nere trust a Prognosticator againe.
Snar.
But how if you should chance to meet Diana?
Take heed of her, it is a testy Girle,
A profest Virgin.
Phil.
'Tis my ambition
To meet with her, to bath my limbs with her,
In the same Well, shoot in her bow, dance with her,
And get the formost of her troupe with child,
And turne the rape on Iupiter.
Snar.
Fine yfaith.
Fid.
It seemes that you are of opinion,
There is no text of woman-kinde so holy,
Philau.
Ardelio, tell me what thou dost think of them
Ard.
Who I? hang me should I be questioned
Now for my faith, concerning Articles,
Of womens chastitie, I should bee burnt
For a ranke Heretike, I beleeve none of them.
Fid.
But I thinke otherwise; and can iustifie it.
What if I bring you now unto a beauty
As glorious as the Sunne, but in desire
Cold, as the middle Region of the ayre,
And free from all reflexion of lust?
Philau.
But shall I speak with her, and tempt her to it?
Fid.
You shall converse with her, and she shall feed
Your sense with such discoursive influence,
And a voyce sweeter than the Lydian tunes
Iove would bow downe his eare to, yet her bloud
Shall runne as cold as Iulips through her veynes:
The spring-tide of her youth, shall swell with more
Delights, then there be drops in Aprill, yet shee
As chast as Salmacis, amidst the streames.
Her eye shall sparkle like the Diamond,
And be as pure, her kisses soft and melting,
As the South wind; but undefil'd as heaven.
And you shall feele the Elementall fire
Of her unspotted love, and grieve, and sweare
Shee is so celestiall, and Divine a creature,
Thats onely hot in her effect, not nature.
Philau.
Why such an one would I converse withall
The Conquest will be greater, shall I see her?
Fid.
I'll bring you to her.
Ard.
He has a strong beleefe.
I have no such confidence, she may be Lucresse,
And he' a foolish Colatine to brag of her.
But most of them, in playing fast and loose,
Will cheat an Oracle. I haue a creature
Before these, Courtiers licke their lips at her,
I'll trust a wanton haggard in the wind.
Eid.
This Lady is his sister, and my Mistris,
Her father iealous of my love, because
I was a Gentleman of no great fortune,
Sent her away, and charg'd her by an oath,
To marry none, till seven yeares were expir'd,
Six parts of which are gone, yet shee remaines
Constant to what she promis'd, though his death,
Has partly quit her: To live in her sight,
And not enioy her, is a heavenly torment,
But unsufferable, I must liue apart,
Till the præfixed minute be expir'd.
In the meane time, I'll worke by some good meanes,
To winne his love, and draw him from his folly.
But first by him, I'll try her constancy.
I must prepare her for his entertainment,
Because she will admit no Company,
Nor will be knowne to any, but my selfe.
Come Sir, let's goe, by that which shall ensue,
You shall affirme, what I relate, is true.
Scen. 5.
Agurtes, Autolicus.Agur.
Tis a dull age this same, casts not her eyes
On men of worth, Captaines and Commanders,
Victorious abroad, are vanquish'd at home,
With poverty, and disgrace, they looke as bad
As Brutus, when he met his evill Genius:
Worse, then they had beene frighted from the ruines
Of Isis Temple; and you Sir, for your part,
That have beene brought up under me at my elbow,
A daily witnesse unto all my proiects,
That might have got experience enough
To cozen a whole State, if they had trusted you.
Now to be wanting to your selfe, worne out,
No name, or title, but on posts, and trenchers,
Are my hopes come to this?
Autol.
What should I doe?
I haue no thriuing way to lye and flatter,
Nor haue I such dexterity of wit
As you haue (blest be heaven) to convert
Blacke into white.
Agur.
Nay, if you have no will,
Nor power to free your selfe, you must resolve
To sticke in the dirt still.
Autol.
Nor can I promise
The death of any by the Starres, I haue
No rich mans funerall to folemnize,
That left a guilt ring for my Legacie,
And his old Velvet jerkin to survive him.
I have no secret boyles within my breast,
For which I am fear'd, no stir in Law to follow,
No accusation 'gainst a great man,
No house to let to farme, no tender wife
To prostitute, or skill to corrupt others,
And sleepe amidst their wanton Dialogues.
Agur.
I cry you mercy, you would faine be stil'd
An honest politicke foole, see all mens turnes
Seru'd but your owne; so leave off to be good
For what is now accounted to be good?
Take a good Lawyer, or a good Atturney,
A Citizen that's a good Chapman;
In a good sense what are they? I would knows
Why a good Gamester, or a good Courtier?
Is't for their honest dealing? Take a good Poet,
And if he write not bawdy lines and raptures,
I'll not giue a pinne for him.
Autol.
Would you haue me
Act the plagiary, and seeke preferment,
To be the drunken bard of some blacke stewes?
And thinke my destinie well satisfied,
When my shame feeds me, and at length expect
A Legacie, bequeath'd me from some Bawd,
To the proportion of my Herma.
Agur.
Well I perceive that I must once more take you
To my protection, which if I doe,
I'll teach you better rules, you shall no more
Commit your misery to loose papers.
Nor court my Lord with Panegyricks, nor make
Strange Anagrams of my Lady: you shall not need
To deale for stale Commodities, nor yet
Send forth your privy Bils without a Seale,
To free you from your lodging, where you have
Laine in, most part of the vacation.
You shall no longer runne in score with your hostesse
For browne Tosts and Tobacco, but you shall leave
Your open standings at the ends of Lanes,
Or your close coverts in Tobacco-shops,
Where you giue strickt attendance like a Serjeant,
Vntill some antidated Country cloake
Passe by, whom you most impudently may
Assault, to borrow twelve pence; but beare up
Stifly, and with the best.
Autol.
How shall that be done?
Agur.
We will not call Tirefias from the dead,
To shew us how, as he did once Ulysses.
You must resolue to learne vertue from others,
Fortune from me.
Autol.
For that I'll make no scruple.
Agur.
I haue a bird i'th wind, I'll fly thee on him.
He shall be thy adventure, thy first quarry.
Autol.
What's hee?
Agur.
A golden one, that drops his feathers,
That has receiv'd his patrimony, giues monie
For all acquaintance, when he first came up,
His onely search was for prime Curtezans.
And those he entertain'd for Mistresses,
Onely sometimes to drinke a health to them,
The Ladies too would use him for a cooler,
But they suspect his silence, yet he uses
As he had bought them, thou shalt hooke him in,
And cracke him like a Nut.
Autol.
Is he not the Sonne
To the rich Vsurer, that died so lately?
Agur.
The same, that heap'd up mony by the Bushel;
And now this studies how to scatter it.
His father walkes to see what becomes of it,
And that's his torment after death.
Autol.
When shall I see him?
Agur.
He is to meet me here within this houre,
Then take you an occasion to passe by,
And I will whisper to him privately,
And prayse thee, beyond Pirrhus or Hannibal.
You must talke, and looke big, 'twill be the grace on't.
Autol.
What shall I turne a Roarer?
Agur.
Any thing.
Broker, or Pandar, Cheater, or Lifter,
And steale like a Lacedemonian.
Obserue what I doe, and fill up the Scene.
Enter Boy.
How now? what newes?
Boy.
Sir, there's some five or six without to speake with you.
Agur.
How, fiue or six.
Boy.
Yes, Sir, and they pretend
Great businesse.
Agur.
What manner of men are they?
Boy.
They looke like pictures of Antiquitie.
And their cloakes seeme to have bin the coverings
Of some old Monuments.
Agur.
They are my Gibeonites,
Are come to traffique with me, some designe
Is now on foot, and this is our Exchange time.
These are my old proiectors, and they make me
The superintendent of their businesse.
But still they shoot two or three bowes too short,
For want of monie and adventurers.
They haue as many demurres as the Chancery,
Than any dreaming Philosopher; one of them
Will undertake the making of Bay-salt,
For a penny a Bushell, to serue the State,
Another dreames of building water-workes,
Drying of Fennes and Marshes, like the Dutchmen.
Another strives to raise his fortunes, from
Decay'd Bridges, and would exact a tribute
From Ale-houses, and signe-posts: some there are,
Would make a thorow-fare for the whole kingdome,
And office, where Nature should give account
For all shee tooke, and sent into the world.
But they were borne in an unlucky houre,
For some unfortunate mischance or other,
Still come a'thwart them; well I must into them,
And feast them with new hopes, 'twill be good sport,
To heare how they dispute it, Pro, and Con.
In the meane time, Autolicus, prepare
To meet my Courtier.
Autol.
I have my Q. Sir.
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