University of Virginia Library

Scen. 2.

Caunus. Micropsychus.
Cau.
I wonder that I hear no newes from Court!

Colax.
All haile unto the honourable Caunus.

Cau.
The honourable Caunus? Tis decreed
I am a Privy Counsellor; our new honors
Cannot so alter us as that we can
Forget our Friends, walk with us our familiar.

Micro.
It puzles me to think what worth I have,
That they should put so great an honour on me.

Colax.
Sir I doe know, and see, and so doe all
That have not wilfull blindnesse, what rare skill
Of wisdome, Policy, Iudgement and the rest
Of the state-vertues sit within this brest,
As if it were their Parliament; but as yet
I am not Sir the happy Messenger
That tels you you are cal'd unto the Helme;
Or that the Rudder of great Britany
Is put into your Hands, that you may steere
Our floating Delos till she be arriv'd
At the blest Port of Happinesse, and surnam'd
The Fortunate Isle from you that are the fortunate.

Cau.
'Tis strange that I the best experienc'd
The skilfulst and the rarest of all Carpenters,
Should not be yet a Privy Counsellour!
Surely the State wants eyes, or has drunke opium
And sleepes; but when it wakes it cannot chuse
But meet the glorious beams of my deserts
Bright as the rising Sunne, and say to England,
England behold thy light!

Micro.
Make me a constable!
Make me that am the simplest of my neighbours
So great a Magistrate! so powrfull an officer!
I blush at my unworthinesse: a Constable!
The very Prince o'th' parish! you are one Sir
Of an ability to discharge it better,
Let me resigne to you.

Cau.
How? I a Constable?
What might I be in your opinion Sir?

Micro.
A Carpenter of worship,

Cau.
Very well;
And yet you would make me a Constable.
I'le evidently demonstrate that of all men
Your Carpentes are best States-men; of all Carpenters
I being the best, am best of Statesmen too:
Imagine Sir the Common-wealth a Logge,
Or a rude block of wood; your States-man comes,
(For by that word I mean a Carpenter)
And with the sawe of Policy divides it
Into so many boards or severall orders,
Of Prince, Nobility, Gentry, and the other
Inferiour boards calld Vulgar, fit for nothing
But to make styles, or planks to be trod over,
Or trampled on: This addes unto the Logg
Call'd Common-wealth at least some smal perfection:
But afterwards he plains them, and so makes
The Common-wealth, that was before a board,
A pretty Wainscoat; some he carves with Titles
Of Lord, or Knight, or Gentleman; Some stand plain,
And serve us more for use then Ornament,
We call them Yeomen; (Boards now out of fashion.)
And lest the disproportion breake the frame,
He with the peggs of amity and concord,
As with the glew-pot of good Government
Ioynts 'em together, makes an absolute Edifice
Of the Re-publique: State-skill'd Machiavell
Was certainly a Carpenter; yet you thinke
A Constable a Gyant Dignity.

Micro.
Pray Heaven that Icarus-like I doe not melt
The waxen plumes of my ambition!
Or that from this bright Chariot of the Sunne
I fall not headlong down with Phaeton,
I have aspir'd so high: make me a Constable
That have not yet attain'd to the Greeke tongue!
Why 'tis his office for to keepe the peace,
His Majesties Peace: I am not fit to keepe
His Majesties Hoggs, much lesse his Peace, the best
Of all his jewells: How dare I presume
To charge a man in the Kings name! I faint
Vnder the burthen of so great a place,
Whose weight might presse down Atlas: Magistrates
Are only Sumpter-horses. Nay they threaten me
To make me Warden of the Church.
Am I a Patriot? or have I ability
To present Knights-Recusant, Clergy-Reelers,
Or Gentlemen-Fornicators?

Colax.
You have worth
Richly enamel'd with a modesty.
And though your lofty merit might sit crown'd
On Caucasus, or the Pyrenean mountaines,
You choose the humbler valley, and had rather
Grow a safe shrub below, then dare the winds,
And be a Cedar: Sir you know there is not
Halfe so much honour in the Pilots place
As danger in the storme. Poore windy Titles
Of Dignity, and offices that puffe up
The bubble pride till it swell big, and burst,
What are they but brave nothings? Toies cal'd Honours
Make them on whom they are bestow'd no better
Then glorious slaves, the servants of the Vulgar:
Men sweat at Helme, as much as at the Oare.
There is a Glasse within shall shew you sir
The vanity of these silke-wormes, that doe think
They toile not, 'cause they spin so fine a thread.

Micro.
I'le see it. Honour is a babies rattle,
And let blind Fortune where she will, bestow her;
Lay me on earth, and I shall fall no lower.
Exit.

Cau.
Colax what newes?

Col.
The Persian Emperour
Is desperatly sick.

Cau.
Heaven take his soule!
When I am the Grand Sophie, as 'tis likely
I may be, Colax thou art made for ever.

Col.
The Turke they say prepares again for Poland.

Cau.
And I no Basshaw yet? Sultan repent it!

Col.
The State of Venice too is in distraction.

Cau.
And can that State be so supinely negligent,
As not to know whom they may choose their Duke?

Col.
Our Merchants doe report th'inhabitants there
Are now in consultation, for the setling
The Crown upon a more deserving head
Then his that bears it.

Cau.
Then my fortunes rise
On confident wings, and all my hopes fly certain.
Colax be bold: thou seest the Prester Iohn.
Well England, of all Countries in the World
Most blind to thy own good. other Nations
Wooe me to take the bridle in my hands
With gifts and presents, had I liv'd in Rome
Who durst with Caunus stand a candidate?
I might have choice of Ædile, Consull, Tribune,
Or the perpetuall Dictators place.
I could discharge 'em all: I know my merits
Are large, and boundlesse: A Cesar might be hewed
Out of a Carpenter, if a skilfull workman
But undertooke it.

Colax.
Tis a worthy confidence.
Let Birds of night and shame, with their owles eyes
Not dare to gaze upon the sunne of Honour;
They are no presidents for Eagles: Bats
Like dull Micropsychus; things of earth, and lead,
May love a private safety; men in whom
Prometheus has spent much of his stolne fire,
Mount upwards like a flame, and court bright honour
Hedg'd in with thousand dangers! Whats a man
Without desert? and what's desert to him
That does not know he has it? Is he rich
That holds within his house some buried chests
Of Gold, or Pearle, & knowes not where to look thē?
What was the Load-stone, till the use was found,
But a fowle dotard on a fowler Mistresse?
I praise your Argus eyes, that not alone
Shoote their beames forwards, but reflect and turne
Back on themselves, and finde an object there
More worthy their intentive contemplation.
You are at home no stranger, but are growne
Acquainted with your vertues, and can tell
What use the pearle is of, which Dunghill cocks
Scrape into dirt againe. This searching judgement
Was not intended to worke wood, but men.
Honour attends you. I shall live to see
A Diadem crowne that head. There is within
A Glasse that will acquaint you with all places
Of Dignity, authority, and renowne,
The State, and carriage of them: Choose the best,
Such as deserve you, and refuse the rest.

Cau.
I goe, that want no worth to merit honour;
'Tis honour that wants worth to merit mee.
Fortune, thou arbitresse of humane things
Thy credit is at stake: if I but rise
The Worlds opinion will conceive th'hast eyes.

Exit.