University of Virginia Library

ACT I.

SCENE I.

A court-yard, with various instruments.
Albumazar, Harpax, Ronca, discovered.
Albumazar.
Come, brave mercurials, sublim'd in cheating,
My dear companions, fellow soldiers
I'th watchful exercise of thievery:
Shame not at your so large profession,
No more than I at deep astrology.
For in the days of old, good morrow thief,
As welcome was receiv'd, as now your worship.
The Spartans held it lawful, and the Arabians;
So grew Arabia felix, Sparta valiant.

Ronca.
Read on this lecture, wise Albumazar.

Alb.
Your patron, Mercury, in his mysterious character,
Holds all the marks of the other wanderers,
And with his subtil influence works in all,
Filling their stories full of robberies.
Most trades and callings much participate
Of yours; though smoothly gilt with the honest title
Of merchant, lawyer, or such like: the learned
Only excepted; and he's therefore poor.

Harp.
And yet he steals, one author from another;
This poet is that poet's plagiary;
And he a third's, 'till they end all in Homer.

Alb.
The world's a theatre of theft! Great rivers
Rob smaller brooks; and them the ocean.
And in this world of ours, this microcosm,
Guts from the stomach steal, and what they spare,
The meseraicks filch, and lay't i'the liver:
Now all these pilfries couch'd and compos'd in order,
Frame thee and me: Man's a quick mass of thievery!

Ronca.
Most philosophical Albumazar!

Alb.
Therefore go on, follow your virtuous laws,
Your cardinal virtue, great necessity;
Wait on her close, with all occasions:
Be watchful, have as many eyes as heav'n,
And ears as harvest: be resolv'd and impudent;
Believe none, trust none: for in this city
(As in a fought field, crows, and carcasses)
No dwellers are but cheaters and cheatees.

Ronca.
If all the houses in the town were prisons,
The chambers cages, all the settles stocks,
The broad-gates gallowses, and the whole people
Justices, juries, constables, keepers and hangmen,
I'd practise in spite of all, and leave behind me
A fruitful seminary of our profession,
And call them by thy name Albumazarians!

Harp.
And I no less, were all the city thieves
As cunning as thyself.

Alb.
Why bravely spoken,
Fitting such generous spirits: I'll make way
To your great virtue with a deep resemblance
Of high astrology. Harpax and Ronca,
List to our profit: I have new-lodg'd a prey
Hard by, that, taken, is so fat and rich,
'Twill make us leave off trading, and fall to purchase.

Harp.
Who is't? speak quickly?

Ronca.
Where, good Albumazar?

Alb.
'Tis a rich gentleman, as old as foolish.
The poor remnant of whose brain that age had left him,
The doting love of a young girl hath dried:
And which concerns us most, he gives firm credit
To necromancy and astrology,
Sending to me, as one that promise both.
Pandolfo is the man.

Harp.
What, old Pandolfo!

Alb.
The same [Furbo sings]
but stay, yon's Furbo, whose smoothest brow
Shines with good news, and's visage promises
Triumphs and trophies to us!

(Furbo plays.
Ronca.
My life he 'as learnt out all, I know by's music.

Enter Furbo.

Alb.
O brave Furbo!

Furbo.
Albumazar,
Spread out thy nets at large, here's fowl abundance:
Pandolfo's ours; I understand his business,
Which I filcht closely from him, while he reveal'd
T'his man his purposes and projects.

Alb.
Excellent!

Furbo.
Thanks to this instrument: for in pretence
Of teaching young Sulpitia, th'old man's daughter,
I got access to th'house, and while I waited
'Till she was ready, over-heard Pandolfo
Open his secrets to his servants: thus 'tis.
Antonio, Pandolfo's friend and neighbour,
Before he went to Barbary, agreed
To give in marriage—

Alb.
Furbo, this is no place
Fit to consider curious points of business;
Come, let's away, I'll hear't at large above:
Ronca, stay you below, and entertain him
With a loud noise of my deep skill in art;
Thou know'st my rosy modesty cannot do it:
Harpax, up you, and from my bed-chamber,
Where all things for our purposes are ready,
Second each beck, and nod, and word of ours.
You know my meaning.

Harp.
Yes, yes.

Furbo.
Yes, Sir.

Alb.
Away then to our several stations.

Exeunt Albumazar, &c. Furbo singing.
Enter Pandolpho, Cricca.
Ron.
There's old Pandolfo, amorous as youthful May,
And grey as January: I'll attend him here.

Pan.
Cricca, I seek thy aid, not thy cross counsel;
I am mad in love with Flavia, and must have her:
Thou spend'st thy reasons to the contrary,
Like arrows against an anvil: I love Flavia,
And must have Flavia.

Cric.
Sir, you have no reason,
She's a young girl of sixteen, you of sixty.

Pan.
I have no reason, nor spare room for any:
Love's harbinger hath chalkt upon my heart,
And with a coal writ on my brain, for Flavia,
This house is wholly taken up for Flavia.
Let reason get a lodging with her wit:
Vex me no more, I must have Flavia.

Cric.
But Sir, her brother Lelio, under whose charge
She's now, after her father's death, sware boldly
Pandolfo never shall have Flavia.

Pan.
His father, e'er he went to Barbary,
Promis'd her me: who be he live or dead,
Spight of a list of Lelio's, Pandolfo
Shall enjoy Flavia.

Cric.
Sir, y'are too old.

Pan.
I must confess in years about threescore,
But in tough strength of body, four and twenty,
Or two months less. Love of young Flavia,
More powerful than Medea's drugs, renews me:
My arteries blown full with youthful spirits,
Move the blood more briskly, and my wither'd
Nerves grow plump. Hence, thou poor prop
Of feebleness and age; (throws away his stick)
walk with such sires
As with cold palsies shake away their strength,
And lose their legs with cureless gouts: Pandolfo,
New-moulded, is for revels, masks, and music! Cricca,
String my neglected lute, and from my armory
Scour my best sword, companion of my youth.

Cric.
Your love, Sir, like strong water,
To a deplor'd sick man, quicks your feeble limbs
For a poor moment, which as soon grow cold;
Shall I speak plainer, Sir? she'll cuckold you;
Alas! she'll cuckold you.

Pan.
What me? a man of known discretion,
Of riches, years, and this grey gravity?
I'll satisfy'r with gold, rich clothes, and jewels.

Cric.
Wer't not far fitter to urge your son Eugenio
To woo her for himself?

Pan.
Cricca, be gone.
Touch no more there; I will and must have Flavia.
Tell Lelio, if he grant me his sister Flavia,
I'll give my daughter to him in exchange.
Be gone, and find me here within this half hour.

[Exit Cricca.
Ron.
'Tit well that servant's gone; I shall the easier
Wind up his master to my purposes.

Pan.
Sure this is some novice of th'artillery,
That winks and shoots: Sir, prime, prime your piece anew,
The powder's wet.

[Knocks at the door.
Ron.
A good ascendent bless me! Sir, are you frantick?

Pan.
Why frantick? are not knocks the lawful courses
To open doors and ears?

Ron.
Of vulgar men and houses.

Pan.
Whose lodging's this? is't not the astrologer's?

Ron.
His lodging? no: 'tis the learn'd phrontisterion
Of most divine Albumazar!

Pan.
Good Sir,
If the door break, a better shall redeem it.

Ron.
How! all your land sold at a hundred years purchase
Cannot repair the damage of one poor rap!
To thunder at the phontisterion
Of great Albumazar!

Pan.
Why, man, what harm?

Ron.
Sir, you must know my master's heav'nly brain
Pregnant with mysteries of metaphysicks,
Grows to the embryo of rare contemplation,
Which at full time brought forth, excels by far
The armed fruit of Vulcan's midwifry,
That leapt from Jupiter's mighty cranium.

Pan.
Pray you speak English:
Are you your master's countryman?

Ron,
Yes; why ask you?

Pan.
Then must I get an interpreter for your language.

Ron.
You need not; with a wind-instrument my master made,
In five days you may breathe ten languages,
As perfect as the devil or himself.

Pan.
When may I speak with him?

Ron.
When't may please the stars.
He pulls you not a hair, nor pares a nail,
Nor stirs a foot without due figuring
The horoscope. Sit down awhile, and't please you;
I see the heavens incline to his approach.

Pan.
What's this, I pray you?

Ron.
Sir, 'tis a perspicil, the best under heaven:
With this I'll read a leaf of that small Iliad
That in a walnut-shell was desk'd, as plainly
Twelve long miles off, as you see Paul's from Highgate.

Pan.
Wonderful workman of so rare an instrument!

Ron.
'Twill draw the moon so near, that you would swear
The bush of thorns in't pricks your eyes: nay more,
It searcheth like the eye of truth all closets
That have windows: Have at Rome, I see the Pope,
His cardinals, and his mule, the English college,
And the Jesuits, like a swarm of bees,
All buzzing just turn'd out.

Pan.
A good riddance! let me see the Jesuits.

Ron.
So far you cannot: for this glass is fram'd
For eyes of thirty; you are nigh threescore.

Pan.
The price?

Ron.
I dare not sell't.
But here's another of a stranger virtue.
The great Albumazar, by wond'rous art,
Hath fram'd an instrument that magnifies
Objects of hearing, as this doth of seeing,
That you may know each whisper from Prester John
Against the wind, as fresh as 'twere deliver'd
Through a trunk, or Gloster's listning wall.

Pan.
And may I see it, Sir? bless me once more.

Ron.
'Tis something ceremonious; but you shall try't.
Stand thus. What hear you?

Pan.
Nothing.

Ron.
Set your hands thus—
That the vortex of the organ may perpendicularly
Point out our zenith—what hear you now? ha, ha, ha.

Pan.
A humming noise of laughter.

Ron.
Why that's the audience
In a theatre, that now, Sir, are merry
With an old gentleman in a comedy—what now?

Pan.
No more than a dead oyster.
O let me see this wond'rous instrument.

Ron.
Sir, this is called an otacousticon.

Pan.
A cousticon!
Why 'tis a pair of ass's ears, and large ones.

Ron.
True; for in such a form the great Albumazar
Hath fram'd it purposely, as fit'st receivers
Of sounds, as spectacles like eyes for sight.

Pan.
What gold will buy it?

Ron.
I'll sell it you when 'tis finish'd;
As yet the epiglottis is unperfect.

Pan.
Soon as you can, and here's ten crowns in earnest.
For when 'tis done, and I have purchas'd it,
I mean to entail it on my heirs male for ever.

Ron.
Nay, rather give it to Flavia for her jointure:
For she that marries you, deserves it richly.

Enter Cricca.
Cric.
Sir, I have spoke with Lelio, and he answers—

Pan.
Hang Lelio, and his answers—Come hither, Cricca.
Wonder for me, admire, and be astonish'd!
Marvel thyself to marble at these engines,
These strange Gorgonian instruments!

Cric.
At what?

Pan.
At this rare perspicil and otacousticon:
For with these two I'll hear and see all secrets,
Undo intelligencers.—Pray let my man see
What's done in Rome; his eyes are just as your's are.

Ron.
Pandolfo, are you mad? be wise and secret;
See you the steep danger you are tumbling in?
Know you not that these instruments have power
To unlock the hidden'st closets of whole states?
And you reveal such mysteries to a servant?
Sir, be advis'd, or else you learn no more
Of our unknown philosophy.

Pan.
Enough.
What news from Lilio? shall I have his sister?

Cric.
He swears and vows he never will consent.
She shall not play with worn antiquities,
Nor lie with snow and statues; and such replies
That I omit for reverence of your worship.

Pan.
Not have his sister? Cricca, I will have Flavia,
Maugre his head: by means of this astrologer
I'll enjoy Flavia.

Ron.
One minute brings him.

Cric.
What 'strologer?

Pan.
The learned man I told thee,
The high almanack of Germany, an Indian
Far beyond Trebesond, and Tripoli,
Close by the world's end: a rare conjuror,
And great astrologer!—His name, pray Sir?

Ron.
Albumazarro Meteoroscopico.

Pan.
As he excels in science, so in title.
He tells of lost plate, horses, and stray'd cattle,
Directly, as he had stolen them all himself.

Cric.
Or he, or some of his confederates.

Pan.
As thou respects thy life, look to thy tongue
Albumazar has an otacousticon!
Be silent, reverent, and admire his skill!
See what a promising countenance appears!
Stand still and wonder; wonder and stand still!

Enter Albumazar.
Alb.
Ronca, the bunch of planets new found out
Hanging at the end of my best perspicil,
Send them to Galilæo at Padua:
Let him bestow them where he please. But the stars
Lately discovered 'twixt the horns of Aries,
Are as a present for Pandolfo's marriage,
And hence stil'd Sidera Pandolfæa:

Pan.
My marriage, Cricca! he foresees my marriage
O most celestial Albumazar!

Cric.
And sends y'a present from the head of Aries.

Ron.
The perpetual motion
With a true 'larum in't to run twelve hours
'Fore Mahomet's return?

Alb.
Deliver it safe
To a Turkey factor, bid him with care present it
From me to the house of Ottoman.

Ron.
I go, Sir.
[Exit Ron.

Alb.
Signior Pandolfo, I pray you pardon me,
Exotical dispatches of great consequence
Staid me; and casting the nativity
O'th'Cham of Tartary, and a private conference,
With a mercurial intelligence.
Y'are welcome in a good hour, better minute,
Best second, happiest third, fourth, fifth, and scruple.
Let the twelve houses of the horoscope
Be lodg'd with fortitudes and fortunates,
To make you blest in your designs, Pandolfo.

Pan.
Were't not much trouble to your starry employments,
I a poor mortal would intreat your furtherance
In a terrestrial business.

Alb.
My ephemeris lies,
Or I foresee your errand: Thus, 'tis thus.—
You had a neighbour call'd Antonio,
A widower like yourself, whose only daughter,
Flavia, you love, and he as much admir'd
Your child Sulpitia.—Is not this right?

Pan.
Yes, Sir: O strange! Cricca, admire in silence!

Alb.
You two decreed a counter-match betwixt you,
And purpos'd to truck daughters.—Is't not so?

Pan.
Just as you say't. Cricca, admire, and wonder!

Cric.
This is no such secret: look to yourself, he'll cheat you.

Alb.
Antonio, after this match concluded,
Having great sums of gold in Barbary,
Desires of you, before he consummate
The rites of matrimony, he might go thither
For three months; but now 'tis three and three
Since he embark'd, and is not yet return'd;
Now, Sir, your business is to me, to know
Whether Antonio be dead or living—
I'll tell you instantly.

Pan.
Hast thou reveal'd it?
I told it none but thee.

Cric.
Not I.

Pan.
Why stare you?
Are you not well?

Alb.
I wander 'twixt the poles
And heavenly hinges, 'monst excentricals,
Centers, concentricks, circles, and epicycles!
To hunt out an aspect fit for your business.

Cric.
Mean ostentation! for shame awake yourself;
And give no credit to this cheater.

Alb.
This medling busy fool must be got rid of.
[aside.
And since the lamp of Heaven is newly entred
Into Cancer, old Antonio is dead,
Drown'd in the sea; for radius directorius
In the sixth house, and th'waning moon by Capricorn—
He's dead, he's dead.

Cric.
'Tis an ill time to marry,
The moon grows fork'd, and walks with Capricorn!

Pan.
Peace fool, these words are full of mystery.

Alb.
What ominous face, and dismal countenance,
Mark'd for disasters, hated of all the heavens,
Is this that follows you?

Pan.
He is my servant,
A plain and honest speaker, but no harm in him.

Cric.
What see you in my face? 'tis good as yours.

Alb.
Horror and darkness! death and gallowses!
He is profane,—my spirits will not come,
Or hear my call—my art is dumb and useless,
While ignorance and disbelief are suffer'd
To scoff my operations.—Let him go,
Depart—or let me loose a spirit at him,
To fix him motionless on yonder beam,
Till the work's done.

Cric.
I beg to be in motion,
And depart.—I am no friend to beams,
And beg to wait without your farther pleasure.

Pan.
Your folly is its punishment,—begone.

Cric.
Most willingly I go.
[Exit Cricca.

Pan.
Pardon the witless creature;
Now to our business—on great Albumazar.

Alb.
I shall—but first,
I'll tell you what you mean to ask me.

Pan.
Strange!

Alb.
Antonio dead, that promis'd you his daughter,
Your business is to entreat me to raise his ghost,
And force it stay at home, 'till it have perform'd
The promise past, and so return to rest.

Pan.
That, that; y'have hit it, most divine Albumazar!

Alb.
I'll change some servant, or a good friend of yours
To the perfect shape of this Antonio,
So like in face, behaviour, speech and action,
That all the town shall swear Antonio lives;

Pan.
Most Necromantical Astrologer!
Do this, and take me for your servant ever;
And for your pains, after the transformation,
This chain is yours, it cost two hundred pounds
Besides the jewel.

Alb.
Now get the man you purpose to transform,
And meet me here.

Pan.
I will not fail to find you.

Alb.
Mean while with scioferical instrument,
By way of azimuth, and almicantarath,
I'll seek some happy point in heaven for you.

Pan.
I rest your servant, Sir.

Alb.
Let all the stars,
Guide you with most propitious influence!
I must to my phrontesterion.
[Exit Albumazar.

Pan.
What a wonder! Cricca, where are you Cricca?

Enter Cricca.
Cric.
Not motionless against a beam, thank heaven!

Pan.
Peace and be wise; should you rouse his anger
Again, my pow'r and fortune cannot save you.
He's a great man indeed! of skill profound!
How right he knew my business 'fore he saw me;
And how thou scoffest him, when we talk'd in private.

Cric.
In earnest, Sir, I took him for a cheater.

Pan.
Learn from this, Cricca, to believe the stars,
And reverence astrology—Let us now go home,
And make the necessary preparations;
I'll talk in private to thee—if thoul't follow
My commands, and hearken to divine Albumazar,
Thy fortune's made!—I'll tell thee as we go.

[Exeunt.