 | The Antiquary |  |
Actus Primus.
Enter Lionell and Petrutio.Lionell.
Now Sir, let me bid you welcome to your country, and
the longing expectation of those friends that have almost
languish'd for the sight of you: I must flatter
him, and stroke him too, he will give no milk else.
Pet.
I have calculated, by all the rules of Reason and
Art, that I shall be a great man; for, what singular quality concurs to
perfection and advancement, that is defective in me? take my feature
and proportion, have they not a kinde of sweetnesse and harmony to
attract the eyes of the beholders? the confirmation of which, many
authenticall judgments of Ladies have seal'd and subscrib'd to.
Lio.
How do you Sir, are you not well?
Pet.
Next, my behaviour and discourse, according to the Court-garb,
ceremonious enough, more promising than substantiall, able to
keep pace with the best hunting wit of them all: besides, Nature has
bless'd me with boldnesse sufficient, and Fortune with means; what
then should hinder me? nothing but Destiny, villanous Destiny, that
self into the Court, and presence of the Duke, and if he have not the
grace to distinguish of worth, his ignorance upon him.
Lio.
What, in a muse Sir?
Pet.
Cannot a Gentleman ruminate over his good parts, but you
must be troubling of him?
Lio.
Wise men and fools are alike ambitious, this travelling motion
has been abroad in quest of strange fashions, where his spungie
brain has suck'd the dregs of all the folly he could possibly meet with,
and is indeed more asse than he went forth; had I an interest in his
disgrace, I'de rail at him, and perhaps beat him for it; but he is as
strange to me, as to himself, therefore let him continue in his belov'd
simplicity.
Pet.
Next, when he shall be instructed of my worth, and eminent
sufficiences, he cannot dignifie me with lesse imployment, than
the dignity of an Embassadour; how bravely shall I behave my self
in that service, and what an ornament unto my country may I arrive
to be, and to my kindred? but I will play the Gentleman, and neglect
them, that's the first thing Ile study.
Lio.
Shall I be bold to interrupt you, Sir?
Pet.
Presently Ile be at leisure to talk with you; 'tis no small point
in State-policie, still to pretend onely to be thought a man of action,
and rather than want a colour, be busied with a mans own self.
Lio.
Who do's this asse speak to? surely to himself; and 'tis impossible
he should ever be wise, that has alwaies such a foolish
Auditory.
Pet.
Then, with what emulous Courtship will they strive to entertain
me in forraign parts? and what a spectacle of admiration shall
I be made amongst these who have formerly known me? how dost
thou like my carriage?
Lio.
Most exquisite, beleeve me.
Pet.
But is it adorn'd with that even mixture of fluencie and grace,
as are requir'd both in a Statist and a Courtier?
Lio.
So far as the divine prospect of my understanding guides me,
'tis without parallell, most excellent; but I am no profess'd Critique
in the Mystery.
Pet.
Well, thou hast Linceus eyes for observation, or couldst ne're
think you have that apprehension, to discern and approve of me?
Lio.
Without question, they cannot be so dull or stony hearted,
as not to be infinitly taken with your worth; why, in a while, you
shall have them so enamour'd, that they'l watch every opportunity
to purchase your acquaintance, then again revive it with often banquetting
and visits, nay and perhaps invite others, by their foolish example,
to do the like; and some, that despair of so great happinesse,
will enquire out your haunts, and walk there two or three hours together,
to get but a sight of you.
Pet.
Oh infinite, I am transported with the thought on't! it draws
neer noon, and I appointed certain Gallants to meet me at the five
crown Ordinary; after, we are to wait upon the like beauties you talk'd
of, to the publike Theater: I feel of late, a strong and witty Genius
growing upon me, and I begin, I know not how, to be in love with
this foolish sin of Poetry.
Lio.
Are you Sir? there's great hopes of you.
Pet.
And the reason is, because they say, 'tis both the cause and
effect of a good wit, to which I can sufficiently pretend; for, Nature
has not plaid the stepdame with me.
Lio.
In good time, Sir.
Pet.
And now you talk of time, what time of day is't by your
Watch?
Lio.
I have none, Sir.
Pet.
How, ne're a Watch? oh monstrous! how do you consume
your hours, ne're a Watch? 'tis the greatest solecisme in society that
e're I heard of: ne're a Watch?
Lio.
How deeply you conceive of it?
Pet.
You have not a Gentleman, that's a true Gentleman, without
one; 'tis the main Appendix to a Plush-lyning: besides, it helps
much to discourse; for, while others confer Notes together, we confer
our Watches, and spend good part of the day with talking of it.
Lio.
Well Sir, because Ile be no longer destitute of such a necessary
implement, I have a suit to you.
Pet.
A suit to me? let it alone till I am a great man, and then I
shall answer you with the greater promise, and lesse performance.
Lio.
I hope, Sir, you have that confidence, I will ask nothing
Pet.
What is't? be brief, I am in that point a Courtier.
Lio.
Usurp then on the proferr'd means,
Shew your self forward in an action
May speak you noble, and make me your friend.
Pet.
A friend, what's that? I know no such thing.
Lio.
A faithfull, not a ceremonious friend;
But one that will stick by you on occasions,
And vindicate your credit, were it sunk
Below all scorn, and interpose his life
Betwixt you and all dangers: such a friend,
That when he see's you carried by your passions
Headlong unto destruction, will so follow you,
That he will guide you from't; and with good counsell,
Redeem you from ill courses: and, not flattering
Your idle humour to a vain expence;
Cares not to see you perish, so he may
Sustain himself awhile, and raise a fortune,
Though mean, out of your ruines, and then laugh at you.
Pet.
Why, be there any such friends as these?
Lio.
A word,
They walk like spirits not to be discern'd,
Subtill and soft like ayr, can oyly balm
Swimming o're their words and action; but below it,
A flood of gall.
Pet.
Well, to the purpose, speak to the purpose.
Lio.
If I stand link'd unto you,
The Gordian know was lesse dissoluble,
A rock lesse firm, or centre moveable.
Pet.
Speak your demand.
Lio.
Do it, and do it freely then, lend me a hundred Duckets.
Pet.
How is that, lend you a hundred Duckets? not a—
Ile never have a friend while I breathe first, no, Ile stand upon my
guard; I give all the world leave to wher their wits against me, work
like Moles to undermine me, yet Ile spurn all their deceits like a hillock:
I tell thee, Ile not buy the small repentance of a friend or
whore, at the rate of a Livre.
What's this? I dare not
Trust my own ears, silence choke up my anger;
A friend, and whore! are they two parallels,
Or to be nam'd together? may he never
Have better friend, that knows no better how
To value them: well, I was ever jealous
Of his basenesse, and now my fears are ended.
Pox a'these travels, they do but corrupt
A good nature, and his was bad enough before.
Enter Angelia.
Pet.
What pretty sparkle of humanity have we here? whose attendant
are you, my little knave?
Ang.
I wait, Sir, on Master Lionell.
Lio.
'Tis well you are come, what say's the Gentleman?
Ang.
I deliver'd your Letter to him, he is very sorry he can furnish
you no better; he has sent you twenty Crowns, he say's, towards
the large debt he ows you.
Pet.
A fine childe, and delivers his tale with good method; where,
in the name of Ganimede, hadst thou this Epitomy of a servitour?
Lio.
You'd little think of what consequence and pregnancie this
imp is; you may hereafter have both cause to know, and love him—
What Gentlemen are these?
Enter Gaspero and Lorenzo.
Pet.
One is my father.
Lor.
I hear, your son, Sir, is return'd from travell,
Grown up a fine and stately Gentleman,
Outstrips his compeers in each liberall Science.
Gas.
I thank my Stars, he has improv'd his time
To the best use, can render an account
Of all his journall: how he has arriv'd
Through strange discoveries, and compendious way's,
To a most perfect knowledge of himself:
Can give a modell of each Princes Court,
And is become their fear; he has a minde
Equally pois'd, and vertue without sadnesse,
Hunts not for fame, through an ill path of life;
But is indeed, for all parts, so accomplish'd,
Lor.
These are joys,
In their relation to you, so transcendent,
As than your self, I know no man more happy:
May I not see your son?
Gasp.
See where he stands,
Accompanied with yong Lionell, the Nephew
To Viterano the great Antiquary.
Lor.
Ile be bold, by your favour, to indeer
My self in his acquaintance; noble Petrutio,
Darling of Venus, Minion of the Graces,
Let me adopt me heir unto your love:
That is yours by discent, and which your father,
A grave wise man, and a Magnifico,
Has not disdain'd.
Pet.
I am much bound to you for it.
Lor.
Is that all?
Pet.
See the abundant ignorance of this Age, he cites my father for
a President: alas, he is a good old man, and no more; there he stands,
he has not been abroad, nor known the world; therefore, I hope, will
not be so foolishly peremptory, to compare with me for judgment,
that have travel'd, seen fashions, and been a man of intelligence.
Lor.
Seignior, your ear, pray let's counsell you.
Pet.
Counsell me! the like trespasse again; sure the old man dotes:
who counsell'd me abroad, when I had none but mine own naturall
wisdom for my protection? yet I dare say, I met with more perils,
more variety of allurements, more Circes, more Calipso's, and the
like, than ere were fain'd upon Vlisses.
Lor.
It shew'd great wisdom, that you could avoid them,
Give o're, and tempt your destiny no farther;
'Tis time now, to retire unto your self:
Settle your minde upon some worthy beauty,
A wife will tame all wilde affections;
I have a daughter, who, for youth and beauty,
Might be desir'd, were she ignobly born;
And for her dowry, that shall no way part you:
If you accept her, here before your friends,
Pet.
I thank you Sir, you'd have me marry your daughter; is
it so?
Lor.
With your good liking, not otherwise.
Pet.
You nourish too great an ambition, what do you see in me,
to make such a motion? no, be wise and keep her; were I married to
her, I should not like her above a moneth at most.
Lor.
How, not above a moneth?
Pet.
Ile tell you, Sir, I have made an experience that way on my
nature, when I have hir'd a creature for my pleasure, as 'tis the fashion
in many places, for the like time that I told you of; I have been so
tyr'd with her before 'twas out, as no horse like me, I could not spur
my affection to go a jot further.
Gas.
Well said boy, thou art ee'n mine own son, when I was
yong, 'twas just my humour.
Lio.
You give your self a plausible commends.
Pet.
I can make a shift to love, but having injoy'd, fruition kils
my appetite: no, I must have severall objects of beauty, to keep my
thoughts alwaies in action, or I am no body.
Gas.
Still mine own flesh and blood.
Pet.
Therefore I have chose Honour for my Mistris, upon whose
wings I will mount up to the heavens, where I will fix my self a constellation
for all this under-world of mortals to wonder at me.
Gas.
Nay, he is a mad wag, I assure you, and knows how to put
a price upon his desert.
Pet.
I can no longer stay to delate on these vanities, therefore Gallants
I leave you.
Exit.
Lor.
What, is he gone? is your son gone?
Gas.
So it seems. Well Gallants, where shall I see you anon?
Lor.
You shall not part with us.
Gas.
You shall pardon me, I must wait upon my son.
Exit.
Lor.
Do you hear Signior? a pretty preferment.
Lio.
Oh Sir, the lustre of good cloath's, or breeding
Bestow'd upon a son, will make a rustick,
Or a mechanick father, to commit
Idolatry, and adore his own issue.
Ang.
They are so well match'd, 'twere pitty to part them.
Well said little one, I think thou art wiser than both them:
But this same scorn I do not so well relish;
A whorson humerous phantastick Novice,
To contemn my daughter, he is not worthy
To bear up her train.
Lio.
Or kisse under it.
Will you revenge this injury upon him?
Lor.
Revenge! of all the passions of my blood,
'Tis the most sweet; I should grow fat to think on't,
Could you but promise.
Lio.
Will you have patience?
Be rul'd by me, and I will compasse it
To your full wish; wee'l set a bait afore him,
That he shall seize as sharply, as Ioves Eagle
Did snatch up Ganimede.
Lor.
Do but cast the plot,
Ile prosecute it with as much disgrace
As hatred can suggest.
Lio.
Do you see this Page then?
Lor.
I, what of him?
Lio.
That face of his shall do it.
Lor.
What shall it do? methinks he has a pretty innocent countenance.
Lio.
Oh! but beware of a smoothe look at all times:
Observe what I say, he is a Siren above,
But below a very Serpent; no female scorpion
Did ever carry such a sting, beleeve it.
Lor.
What should I do with him?
Lio.
Take him to your house,
There keep him privatly, till I make all perfect.
If ever Alchimist did more rejoyce
In his projection, ne're credit me.
Lor.
You shall prevail, upon my faith, beyond
My understanding: and, my dapper squire,
If you be such a pretious wag, Ile cherish you;
Come, walk along with me: farewell Sir.
Exit Lor. and Ang.
Lio.
Adieu.
To an old Antiquary, he is my Uncle,
And I his heir; would I could raise a fortune
Out of his ruins: he is grown obsolete,
And 'tis time he were out of date; they say he sits
All day in contemplation of a statue
With ne're a nose, and dotes on the decays,
With greater love, than the self-lov'd Narcissus
Did on his beauty: how shall I approach him?
Could I appear but like a Sibels son,
Or with a face, rugged, as father Nilus
Is pictur'd on the Hangings, there were hope
He might look upon me; how to win his love,
I know not: if I wist he were not precise,
I'de lay to purchase some stale interludes,
And give him them, Books that have not attain'd
To the Platonick yeer, but wait their course,
And happy hour, to be reviv'd again:
Then would I induce him to beleeve they were
Some of Terences hundred and fifty Comedies,
That were lost in the Adriatick sea,
When he return'd from banishment: some such
Gullery as this, might be enforc'd upon him;
Ile first talk with his man, and then consider.
Exit.
Enter Lorenzo, Gasparo, Moccinigo, and Angelia.
Lor.
How hapt you did return again so soon, Sir?
Gas.
Ile tell you Sir, as I follow'd my son
From the Rialto, neer unto the bridge,
We were encountred by a sort of Gallants,
Sons of Clarissimo's, and procurators
That knew him in his travels: whereupon
He did insinuate with his eyes, unto me,
I should depart and leave them.
Lor.
'Seems he was asham'd of your company.
Gas.
Like will to like, Sir.
Lor.
What grave and youthfull Gentleman's that with you?
Gas.
Do you not know him?
No.
Gas.
Not Signior Moccinigo?
Lor.
You jest, I am sure.
Gas.
I, and there hangs a jest;
For, going to a Curtezan this morning,
In his own proper colour, his gray Beard,
He had th'ill luck to be refus'd; upon which,
He went and dy'd it; and came back again,
And was again, with the same scorn, rejected,
Telling him, that she had newly deny'd his father.
Lor.
Was that her answer?
Gas.
It has so troubled him,
That he intends to marry; what think you, Sir,
Of his resolution?
Lor.
By'r Lady, it shews
Great haughtinesse of courage; a man of his yeers,
That dares to venture on a wife.
Moc.
A man of my yeers? I feel
My limbs as able as the best of them,
And in all places else, except my hair,
As green as a Bay tree; and for the whitenesse
Upon my head, although it now lye hid,
What do's it signifie, but like a tree that blossomes
Before the fruit come forth? and, I hope, a tree
That blossoms, is neither dry nor wither'd.
Lor.
But pray, what piece of beauty's that you mean
To make the object of your love?
Moc.
I, there
You pose me; for I have a curious eye,
And am as choice in that point to be pleased,
As the most youthfull: here one's beauty takes me,
And there her parentage or good behaviour;
Anothers wealth or wit: but I'de have one,
Where all these graces meet, as in a center.
Gas.
You are too ambitious, you'l hardly finde
Woman or beast that trots sound of all four,
There will be some defect.
Yet this I resolve on,
To have a Maid tender of age, and fair:
Old fish, and yong flesh, that's still my dyer.
Lor.
What think you of a Widow?
Moc.
By no means,
They are too politick a generation,
Prov'd so by Similies; many voyages
Make an experienc'd sea-man, many offices
A crafty knave; so, many marriages,
A subtill cunning Widow: no, Ile have one
That I may mould, like wax, unto my humour.
Lor.
This doting asse is worth, at least, a Million;
And though he cannot propagate his stock,
Will be sure to multiply. Ile offer him my daughter;
By computation of age, he cannot
Live past ten yeers; by that time shee'l get strength
To break this rotten hedge of Matrimony,
And after have a fair green field to walk in,
And wanton where she please. Seignior, a word,
And by this guesse my love; I have a daughter,
Of beauty fresh, of her demeanour gentle,
And of a sober wisdom: you know my estate;
If you can fancie her, seek no further.
Moc.
Thank you Seignior, pray of what age
Is your daughter?
Lor.
But sixteen at the most.
Moc.
But 16, is she no more? she is too yong then.
Gas.
You wisht for a yong one, did you not?
Moc.
Not that I would have her in yeers.
Gas.
I warrant you.
Moc.
Well, mark what I say, when I come to her,
Shee'l neer be able to indure me.
Lor.
Ile trust her.
Gas.
I think your choice, Sir, cannot be amended,
She is so vertuous and so amiable.
Moc.
Is she so fair and amiable? Ile have her,
She may grow up to what she wants, and then
Such infinite content in her embraces,
I may contend with love, for happinesse:
Yet one thing troubles me.
Gas.
What's that?
Moc.
I shall live
So well on earth, I ne're shall think of any other joys.
Gas.
I wish all joy to you; but, 'tis in th'power
Of Fate, to work a miracle upon you:
You may obtain the grace, with other men,
To repent your bargain before you have wel seal'd it.
Lor.
Or she may prove his purgatory, and send him
To heaven the sooner.
Gas.
Such like effects as these,
Are not unheard of in Nature.
Moc.
For all these scruples,
I am resolv'd; bring me, that I may see her:
Yong hansom Ladies are like prizes at a Hors-race, where
Every well breath'd Gentleman may put in for his share.
Exeunt.
Enter Duke and Leonardo.
Leon.
But are you resolv'd of this course, Sir?
Duke.
Yes, wee'l be once mad in our daies, do an exploit for posterity
to talk of; will you joyn with me?
Leon.
I am at your graces disposing.
Duke.
No grace, nor no respect, I beseech you, more than ordinary
friendship allow of; 'tis the onely bar to hinder our designs.
Leon.
Then Sir, what fashion you are pleas'd to appoint me, I will
be glad to put on.
Duke.
'Tis well; for my part, I am determin'd to lay by all ensigns
of my royalty, for a while, and walk abroad under a mean coverture:
variety do's well, and 'tis as great delight, sometimes, to shrowd his
head under a course roof, as a canopy of gold.
Leon.
But what's your intent in this?
Duke.
I have a longing desire, to see the fashions of the vulgar; which,
should I affect in mine own person, I might divert them from their
humours; the face of greatnesse would affright them, as Cato did the
Floralia from the Theater.
Indeed familiarity begets boldnesse.
Duke.
'Tis true, indulgencie and flattery, take away the benefit of
experience from Princes, which ennobles the fortunes of private men.
Leon.
But you are a Duke, Sir; and this descent from your honour,
will undervalue you.
Duke.
Not a whit: I am so toyl'd out with grand affairs, and dispatching
of Embassages, that I am ready to sink under the burthen.
Why may not an Atlas of State, such as my self, that bears up the
weight of a Commonwealth, now and then, for recreations sake, be
glad to ease his shoulders? has not Iupiter thrown away his rayes and
his thunder, to walk among mortals? do's not Apollo suffer himself
to be depriv'd of his quiver, that he may waken up his Muse, sometimes,
and sing to his harp.
Leon.
Nay Sir, to come to a more familiar example; I have heard of a
Nobleman that has been drunk with a Tincker, and of a Magnifico
that has plaid at blow-point.
Duke.
Very good then, take our degree's alike, and the act's as pardonable.
Leon.
In a humour, Sir, a man may do much: but how will you
prevent their discovery of you?
Duke.
Very well, the alteration of our cloaths, will abolish suspition.
Leon.
And how for our faces?
Duke.
They shall passe without any seal of disguise; who, ne're
thought on, will ne're be mistrusted.
Leon.
Come what will, greatnesse can justifie any action whatsoever,
and make it thought wisdom; but if we do walk undiscern'd, 'twill be
the better: it tickles me, to think what a masse of delight we shall
possesse, in being as 'twere the invisible spectators of their strange behaviours.
I heard, Sir, of an Antiquary, who, if he be as good at
wine, as at history, he is sure an excellent companion; and of one Petrutio,
who playes the Eagle in the clowds: and indeed, divers others
who verifie the Proverb, So many men, so many humours.
Duke.
All these wee'l visit in order; but how we shall comply
with them, 'tis as occasion shall be offred, we will not now be so serious
to consider.
Leon.
Well Sir, I must trust to your wit to manage it; leade on, I attend
you.
Exit.
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