 | The Antiquary |  |
Actus Secundus.
Enter Aurelio, and Musicians.Aur.
This is the window, now, my noble Orpheus;
As thou affect'st the name of Rarity,
Strike with the soul of Musick, that the sound
May bear my Love on his bedewed wing,
To charm her ear; as when a sacrifice,
With his perfumed steem, flies up to heaven,
Into Ioves nostrils, and there throws a mist
On his enraged brow: oh how my fancie
Labours with the successe!
Song above.
Enter Lucretia.
Luc.
Cease your fools note there; I am not in tune,
To dance after your Fiddle: who are you?
What saucie groom, that dares so neer intrude,
And with offensive noise, grate on my ears?
Aur.
What more than earthly light breaks through that window,
Brighter than all the glittering train of Nymphs
That wait on Cynthia, when she takes her progresse
In pursuit of the swift enchased Deer,
Over the Cretan or Athenian hils;
Or when, attended with those lesser stars,
She treads the azure circle of the heavens?
Luc.
Hey dey, this is excellent! what voice is that?
Oh, is it you? I cry you mercie, Sir;
I thought as much, these are your tricks still with me:
You have been sotting on't all night with wine,
And here you come to finish out your revels;
I shall be, one day, able to live private,
I shall, and not be made the Epilogue
Of all your drunken meetings: for shame away,
The rosie morning blushes at thy basenesse.
Iulia, go throw the Musick a reward,
Aur.
Divine Lucretia,
Do not receive with scorn, my proffer'd service:
Oh turn again, though from your arched brow,
Strung with disdain, and bent down to your eye,
You shoot me through with darts of cruelty.
Ah foolish man, to court the flame that burns him!
Luc.
What would this fellow have?
Aur.
Shine still, fair Mistris,
And though in silence, yet still look upon me;
Your eye discourses with more Rhetorick
Than all the guilded tongues of Orators.
Luc.
Out of my pitty, not my love, Ile answer;
You come to woe me, and speak fair, 'tis well:
You think to win me too, you are deceiv'd;
For when I hate a person, all his actions,
Though ne're so good, prove but his prejudice:
For flatteries are like sweet pills, though sweet,
Yet if they work not streight, invert to poyson.
Aur.
Why do you hate me, Lady, was there ever
Woman so cruell, to hate him that lov'd her?
Oh, do not so degenerate from Nature,
Which form'd you of a temper soft as silk!
And to the sweet composure of your body,
Took not a drop of gall or corrupt humour,
But all your blood was cleer and purified.
Then as your limbs are fair, so be your minde;
Cast not a scandall on her curious hand,
To say, she made that crooked, or uneven;
For vertue is the best, which is deriv'd
From a sweet feature: Women crown their youth,
With the chaste ornaments of love and truth.
Luc.
This is a language you are studied in,
And you have spoke it to a thousand.
Aur.
Never,
Never to any; for, my soul is cut so
To the proportion of what you are,
That is not found within your face, seems vile!
Oh that I were a vail upon that face,
To hide it from the world; methinks I could
Envie the very Sun, for gazing on you!
Luc.
I wonder, that a fellow of no worth,
Should talk thus liberally; be so impudent,
After so many slightings and abuses
Extorted from me, beyond modesty,
To presse upon me still: have not I told you
My minde in words, plain to be understood,
How much I hate you? can I not enjoy
The freedom of my chamber, but you must
Stand in my prospect? if you please, I will
Resign up all, and leave you possession.
What can I suffer, or expect more grievous,
From the enforcement of an enemy?
Aur.
Do not insult upon my sufferings;
I had well hop'd, I should receive some comfort
From the sweet influence of your words or looks;
But now must flye, and vanish like a cloud,
Chas'd with the wind, into the colder regions,
Where sad despair sits ever languishing;
There will I calculate my injuries,
Summ'd up with my deserts: then shall I finde
How you are wanting to all good and pitty,
And that you do but juggle with our sence;
That you appear gentle and smoothe as water,
When no wind breathes upon it; but indeed,
Are far more hard than rocks of Adamant:
That you are more inconstant than your Mistris,
Fortune, that guides you; that your promises
Are all deceitfull; and that wanton love,
Whom former Ages, flattering their vice,
And to procure more freedom for their sin,
Have term'd a god, laughs at your perjuries.
Luc.
You will do this. why do so, ease your minde,
As to be troubled with an insolent Lover
That will receive no answer; bonds and fetters,
Perpetuall imprisonment, are not like it:
'Tis worse, than to be seiz'd on with a Fever,
A continuall surfet. For Heavens sake, leave me,
And let me hear no more of you.
Aur.
Is this the best rewards for all my hopes,
The dear expences of youth and service,
Spent in the execution of your follies?
When not a day or hour, but witness'd with me,
With what great study, and affected care,
More than of fame or honour, I invented
New waies to fit your humour; what observance,
As if you were the arbitresse of Courtship,
I sought to please you with: laid out for fashions,
And bought thē for you, feasted you with banquets,
Read you asleep i'th afternoon with Pamphlets,
Sent you Elixars and preservatives,
Paintings and powders, that would have restor'd
Old Niobe to youth; the beauty you pretend to,
Is all my gift: besides, I was so simple,
To wear your foolish colours, cry your wit up,
And judgment, when you had none, and swore to it;
Drank to your health, whole nights in Hippocrase,
Upon my knees, with more Religion,
Then e'r I said my prayers, which heaven forgive me.
Luc.
Are these such miracles? 'twas but your duty,
The tributary homage, all men owe
Unto our sex: should we enjoyn you travell,
Or send you on an errand into France,
Onely to fetch a basket of Musk-mellons,
It were a favour for you: put the case,
And that I were Hero, and you Leander;
If I should bid you swim the Hellespont,
Only to know my minde, methinks you might
Be proud of the employment: were you a Puritan,
Or to the Church, though you had no religion,
You might not question it.
Aur.
Pretty, very pretty!
Luc.
And then, because I am familiar,
And daign, out of my noblenesse and bounty,
To grace your weak endeavours with the title
Of courtesie, to wave my Fan at you,
Or let you kisse my hand; must we strait marry?
I may esteem you in the ranck of servants,
To cast off when I please, ne're for a husband.
Aur.
If ever devill dam'd in a Womans tongue,
'Tis in thine; I am glad yet you tell me this,
I might have else proceeded, and gone on
In the lewd way of loving you, and so
Have wandred farther from my self: but now
Ile study to be wiser, and henceforth
Hate the whole gang of you, denounce a war,
Ne're to be reconcil'd, and rejoyce in it,
And count my self bless'd for't, and wish all men
May do the like to shun you: for my part,
If when my brains are troubled, with late drinking,
I shall have else the grace, sure, to forget you;
Then but my labouring fancie dream of you,
Ile start affrighted at the vision.
Luc.
'Las how pitifully it takes it to heart;
It would be angry too, if it knew how.
Aur.
Come neer me, none of you; if I hear
The sound of your approach, Ile stop my ears,
Nay Ile be angry, if I shall imagine
That any of you think of me: and for thy sake,
If I but see the picture of a woman,
Ile hide my face, and break it: so farewell.
Exit Lucretia.
Enter Lorenzo, Moccinigo, and Angelia.
Lor.
What are you friend, and what's your businesse?
Aur.
What e're it be, now 'tis dispatch'd.
Lor.
This is rudenesse.
The fitter for the place and persons then.
Lor.
How's that?
Aur.
You are a nest of savages, the house
Is more inhospitable than the quick sands:
Your daughter sits on that inchanted bay,
A Siren like, to entice passengers,
Who viewing her, through a false perspective,
Neglect the better traffick of their life:
But yet, the more they labour to come neer her,
The further she flies back; untill at last,
When she has brought them to some rock or shelf,
She proudly looks down on the rack of Lovers.
Lor.
Why, who has injur'd you?
Aur.
No matter who,
Ile first talk with a Sphinx, e're converse with you.
Lor.
A word, expound your wrongs more to the ful,
If you expect a remedy.
Aur.
Ile rather
Seek out diseases, choose my death, and pine,
Than stay to be cur'd by you.
Exit.
Lor.
If you be so obstinate,
Enter Æmilia and Lucretia.
Take your course—Why wife Æmilia,
Daughter Lucretia—what's the matter here
With this same fellow, do you owe him money?
Luc.
Owe him mony Sir? do's he look like one
That should lend mony? he is a Gentleman,
And they seldom credit any body.
Lor.
Well wife,
Where was your Matrons wisdom, that should keep
A vigilant care upon your house and daughter;
And not have suffred her to be surpris'd
With every loose aspect, and gazing eye,
That suck in hot and lustfull motions?
You were best turn Bawd, and prostitute her beauty.
Æmil.
You were best turn an old asse,
And meddle with your Bonds and Brokage.
Lor.
What was his businesse?
To tell you true Sir, hee is one of those,
Whom love and fortune have conspir'd to fool,
And make the subject of a womans will;
His idle brain, being void of better reason,
Is fill'd with toyes and humours, and for want
Of other exercise, he takes great pains
For the expressing of his folly: sometimes
With starts and sighes, hung head, and foulded arms,
Sonnets and pittifull tunes; forgetting
All due respect unto himself, and friends,
With doting on a Mistris; she again
As little pittying him, whose every frown
Strikes him as dead as fate, and makes him walk
The living monument of his owne sorrow.
Lor.
I apprehend; he came a woing to thee,
'Tis so; and thou did'st scorn him girl, 'twas well do
I'le ease thee of that care, see I have brought
A husband to thy hand; look on him well,
A worthy man, and a Clarissimo.
Luc.
A husband said, now Venus be propitious;
Hee lookes more like the remedie of love,
A Julip to coole it; she that could take fire
at such a dull flame, as his eyes, I should
Beleeve her more then touch-wood.
Moc.
A ravishing feature,
If her condition answer but her feature;
I am fitted, her form answers my affection,
It arrides me exceedingly; I'le speake to her:
Fair Mistresse, what your father has propos'd,
In the fair way of contract, I stand ready
To ratifie, and let mee not seem lesse
In your esteeme, because I am so easie
In my consent; women love out of fancy,
Men from advise.
Luc.
You doe not mean in earnest,
Now Cupid deliver mee.
Moc.
How, not in earnest?
Luc.
Good Sir, consider
The infinite distance that is between us
In age and manners.
Moc.
No distance at all;
My age is youthfull, and your youth is aged.
Luc.
But you are wise, and will you sell your freedom
Unto a female tyranny? in despair.
Ere to be quit, you run a strange adventure,
Without percieving what a certaine hazard,
A creature of my inclination
Is apt to draw you to.
Moc.
I cannot think it.
Luc.
'Tis strange you'l not believe mee, unlesse I lay
My imperfection open; I have a nature
Ambitious beyond thought, quite giv'n ouer
To entertainments and expence, no bravery
That's fashionable can escape mee; and then
Unlesse you are of a most setled temper,
Quiet without passion, I shall make you
Horn mad with jealousie.
Moc.
Come, come, I know
Th'art vertuous, and speakest this but to try mee,
You will not be so adverse to your fortune,
And all obedience, to contradict
What your father has set down.
Luc.
These are my faults
I cannot helpe, if you will be so good
As to dispence with them.
Moc.
With all my heart; I forgive thee before thou offend'st.
Luc.
Then I am mighty stubborn, and self-will'd.
And shall sometimes eene long to abuse you;
And for my tongue, 'tis like a stone thrown downe
Of an impetuous motion not to be still'd.
Moc.
All these cannot dismay me, for considering
How they are passions proper to your Sex,
In a degree they are vertues.
Luc.
Oh my fate,
With further hopes, or pump for more excuses,
Take it in brief, though I am loath to speak,
But you compell me to it; I cannot love you.
Lor.
How do you speed, Sir, is she tractable,
Do you approve of her replies?
Moc.
I know not,
Guesse you, she said she cannot love me; and 'tis
The least thing I should have mistrusted, I durst
Have sworn, she would ne're have made scruple on't.
Lor.
Not love you? come, she must, and shall: do you hear, huswife?
No more of this, as you affect my friendship.
What, shall I bring here a right worshipfull Pretor
Unto my house, in hope you will be rul'd,
And you prove recreant to my commands?
By my vext soul, thou hast done a deed were able
In the meer questioning of what I bid,
Were not I a pious and indulgent father,
To thrust thee, as a stranger, from my blood.
Moc.
Be not too rash, Sir, women are not won
With force, but fair entreaty: have I been vers'd
Thus long i'th school of love? know all their arts,
Their practises, their waies and subtilties,
In all my encounters still return'd a victor,
And have not left a stratagem at last
To work on her affection? let me suffer.
Lor.
Nay, and you have that confidence, Ile leave you.
Moc.
Lady, a word in private with you.
Whisper.
Æmil.
Pray sweet heart,
What pretty youth is that?
Lor.
Who, this same chicken?
He is the son of a great noble man,
And my especiall friend; his father's gone
Into the country to survey his lands,
And let new Leases, and left him in charge
With me, till his return.
Æmil.
Now, as I live,
He should have an ability to do,
And wit to conceal; when I take him single,
Ile try his disposition.
Moc.
This for your sake,
Ile undertake and execute.
Luc.
For my sake,
You shall not draw me to the fellowship
Of such a sin.
Moc.
I know 'tis pleasing to thee,
And therefore am resolv'd.
Luc.
I may prevent you.
Lor.
What, are you resolv'd?
Moc.
We are ee'n at a point, Sir.
Lor.
What's more to be done, let's in and consider.
Exeunt.
Enter Antiquary and Petro.
Ant.
Well sirrah, but that I have brought you up, I would cashier
you for these reproofs.
Pet.
Good Sir consider, 'tis no benefit to me, he is your Nephew
that I speak for, and 'tis charity to relieve him.
Ant.
He is a yong knave, and that's crime enough; and we were
old in any thing, though 'twere in iniquity, there were some reverence
to be had of him.
Pet.
Why Sir, though he be a yong knave, as you term him, yet he
is your kinsman, and in distresse too.
Ant.
Why Sir, and you know again, that 'tis an old custome, which
thing I will no way transgresse; for a rich man not to look upon any,
his kinsman in distresse.
Pet.
'Tis an ill custome, Sir, and 'twere good 'twere repeal'd.
Ant.
I have something else to look after, have you dispos'd of those
reliques as I bade you?
Pet.
Yes Sir.
Ant.
Well, thou dost not know the estimation of what thou hast
in keeping; the whole Indies, seeing they are but newly discovered,
are not to be valued with them: the very dust that cleaves to one
of those Monuments, is more worth than the oare of twenty Mines.
Pet.
Yet by your favour Sir, of what use can they be to you?
What use? did not the Seigniory build a state chamber for
Antiquities; and 'tis the best thing that e're they did, they are the Registers,
the Chronicles of the age they were made in, and speak the
truth of History, better than a hundred of your printed Commentaries.
Pet.
Yet few are of your belief.
Ant.
There's a box of coins within, most of them brasse, yet each
of them a Jewell, miraculously preserv'd in spight of time or envie;
and are of that rariety and excellence, that Saints might go a pilgrimage
to them, and not be asham'd.
Pet.
Yet I say still, what good can they do to you, more than to
look on?
Ant.
What good, thou brute? and thou wer't not worth a penny,
the very shewing of them were able to maintain thee; let me see now,
and you were put to it, how you could advance your voice in their
commendation, begin.
Pet.
All you Gentlemen, that are affected with rarities, such, the
world cannot produce the like, snatch'd from the jaws of time, and
wonderfully collected by a studious Antiquary; come neer, and
admire.
Ant.
Thou say'st right, the limbs of Hippolitus were never so
dispers'd.
Pet.
First, those twelve pictures that you see there, are the portraitures
of the Sibels, drawn 500 yeers since by Titianus of Padua,
an excellent Painter, and Statuary.
Ant.
Very well.
Pet.
Then here is Venus all naked, and Cupid by her, on a Dolphin;
both these were drawn by Apelles of Greece.
Ant.
Proceed.
Pet.
Then here is Hercules and Anteus, and that Pallas at length
in Alablaster, with her helmet and feathers; and that's Iupiter, with
an Eagle at his back.
Ant.
Exceeding well.
Pet.
Then there's the great silver box that Nero kept his beard in.
Ant.
Good again.
Pet.
And after, decking it with pretious stones, did consecrate it
to the Capitoll.
That's right.
Pet.
And there hangs the Net that held Mars and his Mistris, while
the whole bench of bawdy Deities, stood spectatours of their sport.
Ant.
Admirable good.
Pet.
Then here is Marius to the middle, and there Cleopatra, with a
vail over her face; and next to her, Marcus Antonius the Triumvir;
then he with half a nose is Corvinus, and he with ne'r a one is Galba.
Ant.
Very sufficient.
Pet.
Then here is Vitellius, and there Titus and Vespasian, these three
were made by Iacobus Sansovinus the Florentine.
Ant.
'Tis enough.
Pet.
Last of all, this is the Urne that did contain the ashes of the
Emperors.
Ant.
And each of these worth a Kings ransom—
Enter Duke and Leonardo.
Duke.
Save you, Sir.
Ant.
You are welcome, Gentlemen.
Duke.
I come, Sir, a sutor to you; I hear, you are possess'd of many
various and excellent antiquities, and though I am a stranger, I
would entreat your gentlenesse a favour.
Ant.
What's that, Sir?
Duke.
Onely that you would vouchsafe me, to be a spectatour of
their curiosity and worth; which courtesie shall engage me yours for
ever.
Ant.
For their worth, I will not promise, 'tis as you please to esteem
of them.
Leo.
No doubt Sir, we shall ascribe what dignity belongs to them,
and to you their preserver.
Ant.
You speak nobly; and thus much let me tell you to your edifying,
the foolish doting on these present novelties, is the cause why
so many rare inventions have already perish'd; and which is pitty,
Antiquity has not left so much as a footstep behinde her, more than
of her vices.
Leo.
'Tis the more pitty, Sir.
Ant.
Then, what raises such vanities amongst us, and sets phantasticall
fancies a work; what's the reason that so many fresh tricks, and
new inventions of fashions, and diseases come daily over sea, and land
the neglect of those usefull instructions which Antiquity has set down.
Duke.
You speak oracles, Sir.
Ant.
Look farther, and tell me what you finde better, or more honorable
than age; is not wisdom entail'd upon it? take the preheminence
of it in every thing, in an old friend, in old wine, in an old
pedigree.
Leo.
All this is certain.
Ant.
I confesse to you Gentlemen, I must reverence and prefer the
precedent times before these, which consum'd their wits in experiments;
and 'twas a vertuous emulation amongst them, that nothing
which should profit posterity, should perish.
Leo.
It argued a good fatherly providence.
Ant.
It did so; there was Lisippus, that spent his whole life in the
lineaments of one picture, which I will shew you anon; then was there
Eudoxus the Philosopher, who grew old in the top of a mountain, to
contemplate Astronomy, whose Manuscript I have also by me.
Duke.
Have you so, Sir?
Ant.
I have that and many more; yet see the preposterous desires
of men in these daies, that account better of a masse of gold, than
what ever Apelles or Phidias have invented.
Duke.
That is their ignorance.
Ant.
Well Gentlemen, because I perceive you are ingenious, I
would entreat you to walk in, where I will demonstrate all, and proceed
in my admonition.
Exeunt.
Enter Aurelio and Lionell.
Lio.
'Tis well Sir, I am glad you are so soon got free from your
bondage.
Aur.
Yes, I thank my stars, I am now my own man again, I have
slept out my drunken fit of Love, and am recovered; you that are
my friends, rejoyce at my liberty.
Lio.
Why, was it so painfull to you?
Aur.
More tedious than a siege; I wonder what black leaf in the
book of Fate, has decreed that misery upon man, to be in love; it
transforms him to a worse monster than e're Calipso's cup did: a
country Gentleman among Courtiers, or their wives among the Ladies,
a Clown among Citizens, nay an Asse among Apes, is not half
I would tear it, that never such a witched passion should arise in any
human brest again.
Lio.
You are too violent in your hate; you should never so fall out
with a friend, as to admit no hope of reconcilement.
Aur.
Ile first be at peace with a Serpent, mark me, if thou hast care
of thy time, thy health, thy fame, or thy wits, avoid it.
Lio.
I must confesse, I have been a little vain that way, yet never so
transported, but when I saw a hansomer in place, I could leave the
former, and cleave to the latter; I was ever constant to beauty.
Aur.
Hold thee there still, and if there be a necessity at any time,
that thou must be mad, let it be a short fury, and away; let not this
paltry love hang too long upon the file, be not deluded with delayes,
for if these she-creatures have once the predominance, there shall be no
way to torture thee, but they'l finde it out, and inflict it without mercie;
they'l work on thy disposition, and if thou hast any good nature,
they'l be sure to abuse thee extremely.
Lio.
Speak you this in earnest?
Aur.
I know not what you call earnest, but before Ile endure that
life agen, Ile binde my self to a Carrier, look out any employment
whatever, spend my hours in seeing motions and Puppet plays, rook at
Bowling-ally's, mould tales, and vent them at Ordinaries, carry begging
Epistles, walk upon projects, transcribe Fidlers ditties.
Lio.
Oh monstrous!
Aur.
But since I have tasted the sweetnesse of my freedom, thou
dost not know what quicknesse and agility is infus'd into me, I feel
not that weight was wont to clog me, where e're I went; I am all
fire and spirit, as if I had been stript of my mortality: I hear not my
thoughts whisper to me as they were wont; such a man is your rivall,
there's an affront, call him to an account, redeem your Mistris favour,
present her with such a gift, wait her at such a place; none of these
vanities.
Lio.
You are happy, Sir.
Enter Duke, Petro and Leonardo.
Pet.
Come gentles, follow me, Ile bring you to them, look you
where they are.
Duke.
Signior Lionell, I have trac'd much ground, to enquire for you.
I rest engag'd to you for your last nights love, Sir.
Duke.
And I for your good company: did you ever see such a blinde
ruinous tipling house, as we made shift to finde out?
Leo.
I, and the people were as wretched in it; what a mist of Tobacco
flew amongst them?
Lio.
And what a deluge of Rheume?
Pet.
If the house be so old as you speak of, 'twere good you brought
my Master into it, and then throw't a top of him, he would never desire
to be better buried.
Duke.
Well said, Petro.
Lio.
Sir, if it be no trouble to you, I would entreat you know my
worthy friend here.
Duke.
You shall make me happy in any worthy acquaintance.
Pet.
Well Signior Lionell, you are beholding to these Gentlemen,
for their good words unto your Uncles for you, they spoke in your behalf,
as earnestly, as e're did Lawyer for his Client.
Lio.
And what was the issue?
Pet.
He is hide-bound, he will part with nothing; there is an old rivell'd
purse hangs at his side, has not been loos'd these twenty yeers,
and I think, will so continue.
Lio.
Why, will his charity stretch to nothing, Petro?
Pet.
Yes, he has sent you something.
Lio.
What is't?
Pet.
A piece of Antiquity, Sir; 'tis English coyn; and if you will
needs know, 'tis an old Harry groat.
Lio.
Thank him heartily.
Pet.
And 'tis the first, he sayes, that e're was made of them, and in
his esteem, is worth three double Ducats newly stampt.
Lio.
His folly may put what price he please upon it, but to me 'tis no
more than the value, Petro.
Pet.
He sayes moreover, that it may stand you in some use and pleasure
hereafter, when you grow ancient; for it is worn so thin with often
handling, it may serve you for a Spectacle.
Lio.
Very well.
Duke.
'Twere a good deed to conspire against him, he has a humour
easie to be wrought on, and if you'l undertake him, wee'l assist you
in the performance.
With all my heart, Gentlemen, and I thank you.
Duke.
Let us defer it no longer then, but instantly about it.
Lio.
A match, leade on, good wit and fortune guide us.
Exeunt.
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