 | The Sophister |  |
Scæ 2.
Enter Invention.I, who my restles wits have dayly tied,
In searching choicest objects of delight:
Though none more gratefull, none more tedious
Then that most blest content which they enjoy,
Who underneath the courteous Lawrell shade,
In muses laps doe rest their weary heads;
But now, alas, what proud ambition,
What jealous envy, greedy avarice,
Hath cast infection on those purer springs?
They whose kind steele was sometimes only proud
In giving waxen tablets, some cur'd wounds,
In their owne irefull, and all hardned brests,
Imprint the tragicke characters of death
Hot in pursuite of lost lord Intellect;
I am inform'd by Definition,
My best esteemed loving Topicus
Lies desperate hurt by Demonstration.
So twixt my deare affection to him
And bounden duty to my absent Lord,
My hearts divided with convulsions,
But pardon me great Amina, thy sonne
Commands my service, this one duty done.
Enter Description.
Desc.
Well met Invention, what have you found young Lord
Intellect?
Inv.
No, and which adds to my misery, I heare I am like to
loose my selfe, my deare friend Topicus.
Desc.
Indeed he is hurt, but our feare was greater then their danger,
and it is happened better then they deserv'd. There is good
hope of recovery.
Thanks good Discription for this happy news, but are
you certaine that the danger's past.
Disc.
It is most certaine, and I would wish the other miseries
which have so unexpected befallen us, were likely to have so hopefull
an issue.
Inven.
I heare by Lady Methode and the banisht lords,
How miserable you are all become,
By great Discourses strange Distraction.
Met you with Method? Oh she was too impatient and unkinde
to forsake our Soveraigne in his extremity: her presence might
have yeelded him especiall assistance.
Inven.
Pardon and pitty that distressed Queene,
Whose tender heart, oppressed with her griefe,
Would breake with any rough or unkinde touch.
As towards Rhems I did direct my pace,
I overtooke a weary fainting voyce,
Which I approaching neerer found was hers,
Alas, quoth she, I long since banished
From the disordred Regions of the world,
Have beene contented in this only place,
With old Discourse, my till now loving lord,
Till now to live under his lovely roofe:
I alwayes lay twixt his well folded Sheets,
I ever have enclapst him in mine armes,
Lest he should want delighting ornaments,
Or for his plainnesse passe with lesse regard,
I all the day have woed the Sciences,
To make him rob the longest coldest nights,
I have sate reaving up the finest arts,
And put into his hand a curious threed
Wherewith he guided hath his certaine steps
Through many crooked winding Labyrinths;
And now my Theseus, ah my kinder Theseus!
Vnwillingly was forst to leave his love,
Cruell discourse doth rudely cast me off,
Here I stept in, and with the fairest means
My troubled thoughts could finde, perswaded her
To change her resolution, and return;
Which having half effected, there came on
Old Definition with Division,
Who caring lesse their own then her estate,
Are minded closely to return with her.
My love to Topicus hath caused me
To use more hast, although assur'd by you
Of his recovery; I have been content
To favour thus my self, and let you know
Of Prethods kind intention to return.
Descrip.
I thanke you Sir, and will accompany you.
| The Sophister | |