The workes of Beniamin Ionson

Act II. (Book 2)

Scene I.

FAST. BRISKE, CINEDO, CARLO BVFFONE, SOGLIARDO.

CINEDO, watch when the knight comes, and giue vs word.

CINE.

I will, sir.

FAST.

How lik'st thou my boy, CARLO?

CAR.

O, well, well. He lookes like a colonell of the Pigmies horse, or one of these motions, in a great antique clock: he would shew well vp∣on a hab••erdashers stall, at a corner shop, rarely.

FAST.

S'heart, what a damn'd witty rogne's this? how he confounds with his simile's?

CARL.

Better with simile's, then smiles: and whither were you riding now, Signior?

FAST.

Who, I? what a silly iest's that? whither should I ride, but to the court?

CARL.

O, pardon me, sir, twentie places more: your hot-house, or your whore-house—

FAST.

By the vertue of my soule, this knight dwels in Elizium, here.

CARL.

Hee's gone ••ow, I thought he would flie out presently. These be our nimble-spirited Ca••so's, that ha' their euasions at pleasure, will run

ouer a bog like your wild Irish: no sooner started, but they'le leape from one thing to another, like a squirrell, heigh: dance! and doe tricks i' their discourse, from fire to water, from water to aire, from aire to earth, as if their tongues did but e'en licke the foure elements ouer, and away.

FAST.

Sirrha, CARLO, thou neuer ••aw'st my grey-hobbie yet, didst thou?

CARL.

No: ha' you such a one?

FAST.

The best in Europe (my good villaine) thou'lt say, when thou seest him.

CARL.

But when shall I see him?

FAST.

There was a noble man i' the court offered me 100. pound for him, by this light: a fine little fiery slaue, he runs like a (oh) excellent, excellent! with the very sound of the spurre.

CARL.

How? the sound of the spurre?

FAST.

O, it's your only humour now extant, sir: a good gingle, a good gingle.

CARL.

Sbloud, you shall see him turne morris-dancer, he ha's got him bels, a good sute, and a hobby-horse.

SOGL.

Signior, now you talke of a hobby-horse, I know where one is, will not be giuen for a brace of angels.

FAST.

How is that, Sir?

SOGL.

Mary, sir, I am telling this gentleman of a hobby-horse, it was my fathers indeed, and (though I say it—

CARL.

That should not say it) on, on.

SOGL.

He did dance in it, with as good humour, and as good regard, as any man of his degree what soeuer, being no gentleman: I haue danc't in it my selfe too.

CARL.

Not since the humour of gentilitie was vpon you? did you?

SOGL.

Yes, once; mary, that was but to shew what a gentleman might doe, in a humour.

CARL.

O, very good.

GREX.

MIT.

Why, this fellowes discourse were nothing, but for the word Humour.

COR.

O, beare with him, and he should lacke matter, and words too, 'twere pittifull.

SOG.

Nay, looke you, sir, there's ne're a gentleman i' the countrey has the like humours, for the hobby-horse, as I haue; I haue the method for the threeding of the needle and all, the—

CAR.

How, the method.

SOG.

I, the leigeritie for that, and the wigh-hie, and the daggers in the nose, and the trauels of the egge from singer to singer, all the humours incident to the quality. The horse hangs at home in my parlor. I'le keepe it for a monument, as long as I liue, sure.

CAR.

Doe so; and when you die, 'twill be an excellent trophee, to hang ouer your tombe.

SOG.

Masse, and I'le haue a tombe (now I thinke on't) 'tis but so much charges.

CAR.

Best build it in your life time then, your heires may hap to for∣get it else.

SOG.

Nay, I meane so, Ile not trust to them.

CAR.

No, for heires, and executors, are growne damnably carelesse, specially, since the ghosts of testators left walking: how like you him, Signior?

FAST.

Fore heauens, his humour arrides me exceedingly.

CAR.

Arrides you?

FAST.

I, pleases me (a pox on't) I am so haunted at the count, and at my lodging, with your refin'd choise spirits, that it makes me cleane of an∣other garbe, another sheafe, I know not how! I cannot frame me to your harsh vulgar phrase, 'tis against my genius.

SOG.

Signior CARLO.

GREX.

COR.

This is right to that of HORACE, D••m vitant sl••l••i vitis, in con∣traria currunt: so this gallant, labouring to anoid popularitie, fals into a ha∣bit of affection, ten thousand times hatefuller then the former.

CAR.

Who, hee? a gull, a foole, no salt in him i' the earth, man: hee looks like a fresh salmon kept in a tub, hee'le be spent shortly. His braine's lighter then his feather already, and his tongue more subiect to lie, then that's to wag: he sleepes with a muske-cat euery night, and walkes all day hung'd in pomander chaines for penance: he ha's his skin tan'd in ciuet, to make his complexion strong, and the sweetnesse of his youth lasting in the sense of his sweet lady. A good emptie puffe, he loues you well, Signior.

SOGL.

There shall be no loue lost, sir, Ile assure you.

FAST.

Nay, CARLO, I am not happy i' thy loue, I see: pr'y thee suffer me to enioy thy company a little (sweet mischiefe) by this aire, I shall enuy this gentlemans place in thy affections, if you be thus priuate, yfaith. How now? is the knight arriu'd?

CINEDO.

CINE.

No, sir, but 'tis guest he will arriue presently, by his fore-run∣ners.

FAST.

His bounds! by MINERVA an excellent figure; a good boy.

CARL.

You should giue him a french crowne for it: the boy would finde two better figures i' that, and a good figure of your bounty beside.

FAST.

Tut, the boy wants no crownes.

CARL.

No crowne: speake i' the singular number, and wee'le beleeue you.

FAST.

Nay, thou art so capriciously conceited now. Sirra (damnation) I haue heard this knight PVNTARVOLO, reported to bee a gentleman of

exceeding good humour; thou know'st him: pr'ythee, how is his dispo∣sition? I ne're was so fauour'd of my starres, as to see him yet. Boy, doe you looke to the hobby?

CINE.

I, sir, the groome has set him vp.

FAST.

'Tis well: I rid out of my way of intent to visit him, and take knowledge of his— Nay, good wickednesse, his humour, his humour.

CARL.

Why, he loues dogs, and hawkes, and his wife, well: he has a good riding face, and he can fit a great horse; hee will taint a staffe well at tilt: when he is mounted, he lookes like the signe of the George, that's all I know; saue, that in stead of a dragon, he will brandish against a tree, and breake his sword as con••idently vpon the knottie barke, as the other did vpon the skales of the beast.

FAST.

O, but this is nothing to that's deliuerd of him. They say hee has dialogues, and discourses betweene his horse, himselfe, and his dogge: and that he will court his owne lady; as shee were a stranger neuer encoun∣ter'd before.

CARL.

I, that he will, and make fresh loue to her euery morning: this gentleman has beene a spectator of it, Signior Insulso.

SOGL.

〈…〉〈…〉 from whispring with the boy.

I am resolute to keepe a page: say you sir?

CARL.

You haue seene Signior Puntaruolo accost his lady?

SOGL.

O, I sir.

FAST.

And how is the manner of it, pr'ythee, good Signior?

SOGL.

Faith sir, in very good sort, he has his humours for it, sir: as first, (suppose he were now to come from riding, or hunting, or so) he has his trumpet to sound, and then the waiting gentlewoman, shee lookes out, and then hee speakes, and then shee speakes—very pretty yfaith, gentle∣men.

FAST.

Why, but doe you remember no particulars, Signior?

SOGL.

O, yes sir: first, the gentlewoman, shee lookes out at the win∣dow.

CARL.

After the trumpet has summon'd a parle? not before?

SOGL.

No, sir, not before: and then saies he—ha, ha, ha, ha, &c.

CARL.

What saies he? be not rapt so.

SOGL.

Saies he—ha, ha, ha, ha, &c.

FAST.

Nay, speake, speake.

SOGL.

Ha, ha, ha, saies he: God saue you, saies he: ha, ha, &c.

CARL.

Was this the ridiculous motiue to all this passion?

SOGL.

Nay, that, that comes after, is—ha, ha, ha, ha, &c.

CARL.

Doubtlesse, he apprehends more then he vtters, this fellow: or else.

SOGL.

〈1 paragraph〉〈1 paragraph〉

List, list, they are come from hunting: stand by, close vnder this 〈◊〉〈◊〉, and you shall see it done, better then I can shew it.

CARL.

So it had need, 'twill scarce poize the obseruation else.

SOGL.

Faith I remember all, but the manner of it is quite out of my head.

FAST.

O, with-draw, with-draw, it cannot bee but a most pleasing obiect.

Act. II. Scene II.

PVNTARVOLO, HVNTSMAN, GENTLE∣WOMAN.

To the rest.

FOrrester, giue winde to thy borne. Inough, by this, the sound hath toucht the eares of the enclosed: Depart, leaue the dogge, and take with thee what thou hast deseru'd, the horne, and thankes.

CARL.

I, mary, there's some taste in this.

FAST.

Is't not good?

SOGL.

Ah, peace, now aboue, now aboue!

PVNT.

The gentlewo∣man appeares at the window.

Stay: mine eye hath (on the instant) through the bountie of the window, receiu'd the forme of a Nymph. I will step forward three pa∣ses: of the which, I will barely retire one; and (after some little flexure of the knee) with an erected grace salute her (one, two, and three.) Sweet lady, God saue you.

GENT.

No, forsooth: I am but the waiting gentlewoman.

CARL.

He knew that before.

PVNT.

Pardon me: Humanum est errare.

CARL.

He learn'd that of his chaplaine.

PVNT.

To the perfection of complement (which is the Diall of the thought, and guided by the Sunne of your beauties) are requir'd these three specials: the gnomon, the puntilio's, and the superficies: the superficies, is that we call, place; the puntilio's, circumstance; and the gnomon, ceremo∣ny: in either of which, for a stranger to erre, 'tis easie and facile, and such am I.

CARL.

True, not knowing her horizon, he must needes erre: which I feare, he knowes too well.

PVNT.

What call you the lord of the castle? sweet face.

GENT.

The lord of the castle is a knight, sir; Signior PVNTAR∣VOLO.

PVNT:

PVNTARVOLO? O.

CARL.

Now must he ruminate.

FAST.

Does the wench know him all this while, then?

CARL.

O, doc you know me, man? why, therein lies the sirrup of the iest, it's a proiect, a designement of his owne, a thing studied, and re∣hearst as ordinarily at his comming from hawking, or hunting, as a jigge after a play.

SOGL.

I, e'en like your jigge, sir.

PVNT.

'Tis a most sumptuous and stately edifice! of what yeeres is the knight, faire damsell?

GENT.

Faith, much about your yeeres, sir.

PVNT.

What complexion, or what stature beares he?

GENT.

Of your stature, and very neere vpon your complexion.

PVNT.

Mine is melancholy:

CARL.

So is the dogges, iust.

PVNT.

And doth argue constancie, chie••ly in loue. What are his en∣dowments? Is he courteous?

GENT.

O, the most courteous knight in Christian land, sir.

PVNT.

Is he magnanimous?

GENT.

As the skin betweene your browes, sir.

PVNT.

Is he bountifull?

CARL.

'Slud, he takes an inuentory of his owne good parts.

GENT.

Bountifull? I, sir, I would you should know it; the poore are seen'd at his gate, early, and late, sir.

PVNT.

Is he learned?

GENT.

O, I sir, he can speake the French, and Italian.

PVNT.

Then he is trauail'd?

GENT.

I, forsooth, he hath beene beyond-sea, once, or twise.

CARL.

As far as Paris, to fetch ouer a fashion, and come back againe.

PVNT.

Is he religious?

GENT.

Religious? I know not what you call religious, but hee goes to church, I am sure.

FAST.

S'lid, methinkes, these answeres should offend him.

CARL.

T'ut, no; he knowes they are excellent, and to her capacity, that speakes 'hem.

PVNT.

Would I might see his face.

CARL.

Shee should let down a glasse from the window at that word, and request him to looke in't.

PVNT.

Doubtlesse, the gentleman is most exact, and absolutely qua∣lified? doth the castle containe him?

GENT.

No, sir, he is from home, but his lady is within.

PVNT.

His lady? what, is shee faire? splendidious? and amiable?

GENT.

O, Lord, sir!

PVNT.

Pr'ythee, deare Nymph, intreat her beauties to shine on this side of the building.

CARL.

Gent. leaues the window.

That he may erect a new dyall of complement, with his gno∣mons, and his puntilio's.

FAST.

Nay, thou art such another Cinique now, a man had need walke vprightly before thee.

CARL.

Heart, can any man walke more vpright then hee does? Looke, looke; as if he went in a frame, or had a sute of wanescot on: and the dogge watching him, let he should leape out on't.

FAST.

O, villaine!

CARL.

Well, and e'er I meet him in the city, I'le ha'him ioynted, I'le pawne him in east cheape, among the butchers else.

FAST.

Peace, who be these, CARLO?

Act II. Scene III.

SORDIDO, FVNGOSO, LADY.

To the rest.

YOnder's your god-father; doe your duty to him, sonne.

SOG.

This, sir? a poore elder brother of mine, sir, a y••oman, may dispend some seuen or eight hundred a yeere: that's his son, my nephew, there.

PVNT.

You are not ill-come, neighbour SORDIDO, though I haue not yet said, well-come: what, my god-sonne is growne a great proficient by this?

SORD.

I hope he will grow great one day, sir.

FAST.

What does he studie? the law?

SOGL.

I sir, he is a gentleman, though his father be but a yeoman.

CARL.

What call you your nephew, signior?

SOGL.

Mary, his name is FVNGOSO.

CARL.

FVNGOSO? O, he lookt somwhat like a spunge in that pinck•• yellow doublet, me thought: well, make much of him; I see he was ne∣uer borne to ride vpon a moile.

GENT.

Returnd aboue.

My lady will come presently, sir.

SOGL.

O, now, now.

PVNT.

Sordido & Fun∣goso with-draw to the other part of the stage, while the lady is come to the window.

Stand by, retire your selues a space: nay, pray you, forget not the vse of your hat; the aire is piercing.

FAST.

What? will not their presence preuaile against the current of his humour?

CARL.

O, no: it's a meere floud, a torrent, carries all afore it.

PVNT.

What more then heauenly pulchritude is this? What magazine, or treasurie of blisse? Dazle, you organs to my optique sense, To view a creature of such eminence: O, I am planet-strooke, and in yond sphere, A brighter sharre then VENVS doth appeare!

FAST.

How? in verse!

CARL.

An extasie, an extasie, man.

LADY.

Is your desire to speake with me, sir knight?

CARL.

He will tell you that anon; neither his braine, nor his body, are yet moulded for an answere.

PVNT.

Most debonaire, and luculent lady, I decline mee low, as the basis of your altitude.

GREX.

CORD.

He makes congies to his wife in geometricall proportions.

MIT.

Is't possible there should be any such Humorist?

CORD.

Very easily possible, Sir, you see there is.

PVNT.

I haue scarse collected my spirits, but lately scatter'd in the ad∣miration

of your forme; to which (if the bounties of your minde be any way responsible) I doubt not, but my desires shall finde a smooth, and se∣cure passage. I am a poore knight errant (lady) that hunting in the adja∣cent forrest, was by aduenture in the pursuit of a hart, brought to this place; which hart (deare Madame) escaped by enchantment: the eue∣ning approching (my selfe, and seruant wearied) my suit is, to enter your faire castle, and refresh me.

LADY.

Sir knight, albeit it be not vsuall with me (chiefly in the absence of a husband) to admit any entrance to strangers, yet in the true regard of those innated vertues, and faire parts, which so striue to expresse them∣selues, in you; I am resolu'd to entertaine you to the best of my vnworthy power which I acknowledge to bee nothing, valew'd with what so wor∣thy a person may deserue. Please you but stay, while I descend.

PVNT.

〈…〉〈…〉 falls in with Sordido, and his sonne.

Most admir'd lady, you astonish me!

CARL.

What? with speaking a speech of your owne penning?

FAST.

Nay, looke; pry thee peace.

CARL.

Pox on't▪ I am impatient of such fopperie.

FAST.

O, let's heare the rest.

CARL.

What? a tedious chapter of courtship, after sir LANCELOT, and queene GVEVENER? away. I mar'le in what dull cold nooke he found this lady out? that (being a woman) shee was blest with no more copie of wit, but to serue his humour thus. 'Slud, I thinke he feeds her with por∣ridge, I: shee could ne're haue such a thick braine else.

SOGL.

Why, is porridge so hurtfull, signior?

CARL.

O, nothing vnder heauen more preiudiciall to those ascending subtile powers, or doth sooner abate that which we call, acumen ingenij, then your grosse fare: why, I'le make you an instance: your city wiues, but obserue 'hem, you ha'not more perfect true fooles i' the world bred, then they are generally; and yet you see (by the finenesse and delicacy of their diet, liuing into the far capons, drinking your rich wines, feeding on larkes, sparrowes, potato-pies, and such good vnctuous meats) how their wits are refin'd, and rarefi'd! and sometimes a very quintessence of conceit flowes from 'hem, able to drowne a weake apprehension.

FAST.

Peace, here comes the lady.

LADY.

Lady with her gent. seeing them, turnes in againe.

Gods me, here's company: turne in againe.

FAST.

Slight, our presence has cut off the conuoy of the iest.

CARL.

All the better; I am glad on't: for the issue was very perspicu∣ous Come, let's discouer, and salute the knight.

PVNT.

Carlo, and the o∣ther two, step forth.

Stay: who be these that addresse themselues towards vs? what, CARLO? now, by the sincerity of my soule, welcome; welcome gentle∣men: and how doest thou, thou grand scourge; or, second vntrusse of the rime?

CARL.

Faith, spending my mettall, in this reeling world (here and there) as the sway of my affection carries me, and perhaps stumble vpon a yeoman pheuterer, as I doe now; or one of Fortunes moiles, laden with

treasure, and an empty cloke-bagge following him, gaping when a bagge will vntie.

PVNT.

Peace, you, ban-dogge, peace: what briske Nimfadoro is that in the white virgin boot there?

CARL.

Mary, sir, one, that I must entreat you take a very particular knowledge of, and with more then ordinary respect: Monsieur FASTI∣DIVS.

PVNT.

Sir, I could wish that for the time of your vouchsaft abiding here, and more reall entertainment, this my house stood on the Muses hill; and these my orchards were those of the Hesperide's.

FAST.

I possesse as much in your wish, sir, as if I were made lord of the Indies; and I pray you, beleeue it.

CARL.

I haue a better opinion of his faith, then to thinke it will be so corrupted.

SOGL.

Come, brother, I'le bring you acquainted with gentlemen, and good fellowes, such as shall doe you more grace, then—

SORD.

Carlo is coming toward them.

Brother, I hunger not for such acquaintance: Doe you take heede, lest—

SOGL.

Husht: my brother, sir, for want of education, sir, somewhat nodding to the boore, the clowne: but I request you in priuate, sir.

FVNG.

By heauen, it's a very fine sute of clothes!

GREX.

COR.

Doe you obserue that, signior? there's another humour has new crackt the shell.

MIT.

What? he is enamour'd of the fashion, is he?

COR.

O, you forestall the iest.

FVN.

I mar'le what it might stand him in!

SOG.

Nephew?

FVN.

'Fore mee, it's an excellent sute, and as neatly becomes him. What said you, vncle?

SOG.

When saw you my neece?

FVN.

Mary, yester-night I supt there. That kinde of boot does very rare too!

SOG.

And what newes heare you?

FVN.

The guilt spurre and all! would I were hang'd, but 'tis exceeding good. Say you, vncle?

SOG.

Your minde is carried away with somewhat else: I aske what newes you heare?

FVN.

Troth, we heare none. In good faith, I was neuer so pleas'd with a fashion, daies of my life! O (and I might haue but my wish) I'ld aske no more of god now, but such a suit, such a hat, such a band, such a doublet, such a hose, such a boot, and such a—

SOG.

They say, there's a new Motion of the city of Niniueh, with

IONAS, and the whale, to be seene at Fleet-bridge? you can tell, cousin?

FVN.

Here's such a world of question with him, now: Yes, I thinke there be such a thing, I saw the picture: would he would once be satisfi'd. Let me see, the doublet, say fifty shillings the doublet, and betweene three or foure pound the hose; then bootes, hat, and band: some ten or eleuen pound would doe it all, and suit me for the heauens.

SOG.

I'le see all those deuices, and I come to London once.

FVN.

Gods s'lid, and I could compasse it, 'twere rare: harke you, vncle.

SOG.

What saies my nephew?

FVN.

Faith vncle, I'ld ha' desir'd you to haue made a motion for me to my father in a thing, that—walke aside and I'le tell you, sir, no more but this: there's a parcell of law—bookes, (some twenty pounds worth) that lie in a place for little more then halfe the money they cost; and I thinke for some twelue pound, or twenty marke, I could goe neere to redeeme 'hem; there's PLOWDEN, DIAR, BROOKE, and FITZ-HERBERT, di∣uers such, as I must haue ere long: and you know, I were as good saue fiue or sixe pound as not, vncle. I pray you, moue it forme.

SOG.

That I will: when would you haue me doe it? presently?

FVN,

O, I, I pray you, good vncle: God send mee good luck; Lord (and••t be thy will) prosper it: O, my starres, now, now, if it take now, I am made foreuer.

FAST.

Shall I tell you, sir? by this aire, I am the most beholding to that lord, of any gentleman liuing; hee does vse mee the most honorably, and with the greatest respect, more indeed, then can be vtter'd with any opini∣on of truth.

PVNT.

Then, haue you the count GRATIATO?

FAST.

As true nobles gentleman too, as any breathes; I am excee∣dingly endear'd to his loue: by this hand (I protest to you, signior, I speake it not gloriously, nor out of affectation, but) there's hee, and the count FRVGALE, signior ILLVSTRE, signior LVCVLENTO, and a sort of 'hem; that (when I am at court) they doe share me amongst 'hem. Happy is he can enioy me most priuate. I doe wish my selfe sometime an vbiquitarie for their loue, in good faith.

CARL.

There's ne're a one of these, but might lie a weeke on the rack, ere they could bring forth his name; and yet he powres them out as fami∣liarly, as if he had scene 'hem stand by the fire i' the presence, or ta••ne ta∣bacco with them, ouer the stage, i' the lords roome.

PVNT.

Then you must of necessity know our court-starre there? that planet of wit, MADDONA SAVIOLINA?

FAST.

O, lord sir! my mistris.

PVNT.

Is shee your mistris?

FAST.

Faith, here be some slight fauours of hers, sir, that doe speake it, shee is: as this scarfe, sir, or this ribb and in mine eare, or so; this feather grew in her sweet sanne sometimes, though now it be my poore fortunes to weare it, as you see, sir: flight, flight, a foolish toy.

PVNT.

Well, shee is the lady of a most exalted, and ingenious spirit.

FAST.

Did you euer heare any woman speake like her? or enricht with a more plentifull discourse?

CARL.

O, villanous! nothing but sound, sound, a meere eccho; shee speakes as shee goes tir'd, in cob-web lawne, light, thin: good enough to catch flies withall.

PVNT.

O, manage your affections.

FAST.

Well, if thou beest not plagu'd for this blasphemie, one day—

PVNT.

Come, regard not a iester: it is in the power of my purse, to make him speake well, or ill, of me.

FAST.

Sir, I affirme it to you (vpon my credit, and iudgement) shee has the most harmonious, and musicall straine of wit, that euer tempted a true eare; and yet to see, a rude tongue would profine heauen, if it could.

PVNT.

I am not ignorant of it, sir.

FAST.

Oh, it flowes from her like nectar, and shee doth giue it, that sweet, quick grace, and exornation in the composure, that (by this good aire, as I am an honest man, would I might neuer stirre, sir, but) shee does obserue as pure a phrase, and vse as choise figures in her ordinary confe∣rences, as any be i' the Arcadia.

CARL.

Or rather in Greenes workes, whence she may steale with more security.

SORD.

Well, if ten pound will fetch 'hem, you shall haue it, but I'le part with no more.

FVNG.

I'le trie what that will doe, if you please.

SORD.

Doe so: and when you haue 'hem, studie hard.

FVNG.

Yes, sir. And I could studie to get forty shillings more now! well, I will put my selfe into the fashion, as farre as this will goe presently.

SORD.

I wonder it raines not! the Almanack saies wee should haue store of raine, today.

PVNT.

Why, sir, to morrow I will associate you to court my selfe; and from thence to the city, about a businesse, a proiect I haue, I will ex∣pose it to you, sir: CARLO, I am sure, has heard of it.

CARL.

What's that, sir?

PVNT.

I doe intend, this yeere of Iubile, comming on, to trauaile: and (because I will not altogether goe vpon expence) I am determined to put forth some fiue thousand pound, to be paid me, fiue for one, vpon the re∣turne of my selfe, my wife, and my dog, from the Turkes court in Constan∣tinople. If all, or either of vs miscarry in the iourney, 'tis gone: if we be successefull, why, there will be fiue and twenty thousand pound, to enter∣taine time withall. Nay, goe not neighbour SORDIDO, stay to night, and helpe to make our societie the fuller. Gentlemen, frolick: CARLO? what? dull now?

CARL.

I was thinking on your proiect, sir, and you call it so: is this the dog goes with you?

PVNT.

This is the dogge, sir.

CARL.

He do' not goe bare-foot, does he?

PVNT.

Away, you traitor, away.

CARL.

Nay, afore god, I speake simply; he may pricke his foot with a thorne, and be as much as the whole venter is worth. Besides, for a dog that neuer trauail'd before, it's a large iourney to Constantinople: I'le tell you now (and he were mine) I'ld haue some present conference with a physicion, what antidotes were good to giue him, preseruatiues against poison: for (assure you) if once your money be out, there'll be diuers at∣tempts made against the life of the poore animal.

PVNT.

Thou art still dangerous.

FAST.

Is signior DELIROS wife your kinswoman?

SOGL.

I, sir, shee is my neece, my brothers daughter here, and my ne∣phewes sister.

SORD.

Doe you know her, sir?

FAST.

O, God sir, Signior DELIRO, her husband, is my marchant.

FVNG.

I, I haue seene this gentleman there, often.

FAST.

I crie you mercy, sir: let me craue your name, pray you.

FVNG.

FVNGOSO, sir.

FAST.

Good signior FVNGOSO, I shall request to know you bet∣ter, sir.

FVNG.

I am her brother, sir.

FAST.

In faire time, sir.

PVNT.

Come, gentlemen, I will be your conduct.

FAST.

Nay, pray you, sir; we shall meet at signior DELIRO'S often.

SOGL.

You shall ha' me at the Heralds office, sir, for some weeke or so, at my first comming vp. Come, CARLO.

GREX.

MIT.

Methinkes, CORDATVS, he dwelt somewhat too long on this Scene; it hung i' the hand.

COR.

I see not where he could haue insisted lesse, and t' haue made the humours perspicuous enough.

MIT.

True, as his subiect lies: but hee might haue altered the shape of his argument, and explicated 'hem better in single Scenes.

COR.

That had beene single indeed: why? be they not the same per∣sons in this, as they would haue beene in those? and is it not an obiect of more state, to behold the Scene full, and relieu'd with varietie of speakers to the end, then to see a vast emptie stage, and the actors come in (one by one) as if they were dropt downe with a feather, into the eye of the spe∣ctators?

MIT.

Nay, you are better traded with these things then I, and there∣fore I'le subscribe to your iudgement; mary, you shall giue mee leaue to make obiections.

COR.

O, what else? it's the speciall intent of the author, you should

doe so: for thereby others (that are present) may as well be satisfied, who happily would obiect the same you doe.

MIT.

So, sir: but when appeares MACILENTE againe?

COR.

Mary, hee staies but till our silence giue him leaue: here hee comes, and with him signior DELIRO, a marchant, at whose house hee is come to sojourne: Make your owne obseruation now, onely transferre your thoughts to the city, with the Scene; where, suppose they speake.

Act II. Scene IIII.

DELIRO, MACILENTE, FIDO, FALLACE.

I'Le tell you by and by, sir. Welcome (good MACILENTE) to my house, To sojourne euen for euer: if my best In cares, and euery sort of good intreaty

Deliro cometh. His ho•• stre••es flowres.

May moue you stay with me.

MACI.

I thanke you, sir: And yet the muffled fates (had it pleas'd them) Might haue suppli'd me, from their owne full store, Without this word (I thanke you) to a foole. I see no reason, why that dog (call'd Chaunce) Should fawne vpon this fellow, more then me: I am a man, and I haue limmes, flesh, bloud, Bones, sinewes, and a soule, as well as he: My parts are euery way as good as his, If I said better? why, I did not lie. Nath'lesse, his wealth (but nodding on my wants) Must make me bow, and crie: (I thanke you, sir.)

DELI.

Dispatch, take heed your mistris see you not.

FIDO.

I warrant you, sir. I'le steale by her softly.

DELI.

Nay, gentle friend, be merry, raise your lookes Out of your bosome, I protest (by heauen) You are the man most welcome in the world.

MACI.

(I thanke you, sir,) I know my cue, I thinke.

FIDO.

With more per∣fumes and herbes.

Where wil you haue 'hem burne, sir?

DELI.

Here, good FIDO▪ What? shee did not see thee?

FIDO.

No, sir.

DELI.

That's well: Strew, strew, good FIDO, the freshest flowres, so.

MACI.

What meanes this, signior DELIRO? all this censing?

DELI.

Cast in more frankincense, yet more, well said. O, MACILENTE, I haue such a wife! So passing faire, so passing farre vnkind, But of such worth, and right to be vnkind, (Since no man can be worthy of her kindnesse.)

MACI.

What can there not?

DELI.

No, that is sure as death,

No man aliue! I doe not say, is not, But cannot possibly be worth her kindnesse! Nay, it is certain, let me doe her right. How, said I? doe her right? as though I could, As though this dull grosse tongue of mine could vtter The rare, the true, the pure, the infinite rights, That sit (as high as I can looke) within her!

MACI.

This is such dotage, as was neuer heard.

DELI.

Well, this must needs be granted.

MACI.

Granted, quoth you?

DELI.

Nay, MACILENTE; doe not so discredit The goodnesse of your iudgement to denie it, For I doe speake the very least of her. And I would craue, and beg no more of heauen, For all my fortunes here, but to be able To vtter first in fit termes, what shee is, And then the true ioyes I conceiue in her.

MACI.

Is't possible, shee should deserue so well, As you pretend?

DELI.

I, and shee knowes so well Her owne deserts, that (when I striue t'enioy them) Shee weighs the things I doe, with what shee merits: And (seeing my worth out-weigh'd so in her graces) Shee is so solemne, so precise, so froward, That no obseruance I can doe to her, Can make her kind to me: if shee find fault, I mend that fault; and then she saies, I faulted, That I did mend it. Now, good friend, aduise me, How I may temper this strange splene in her.

MACI.

You are too amorous, too obsequious, And make her too assur'd, shee may command you. When women doubt most of their husbands loues, They are most louing. Husbands must take heed They giue no gluts of kindnesse to their wiues, But vse them like their horses; whom they feed Not with a manger—full of meat together, But halfe a pecke at once: and keep them so Still with an appetite to that they giue them. He that desires to haue a louing wife, Must bridle all the shew of that desire: Be kind, not amorous; nor bewraying kindnesse, As if loue wrought, but considerate duty. " Offer no loue-rites, but let wiues still seeke them, " For when they come vnsought, they seldome like them.

DELI.

Beleeue me, MACILENTE, this is gospell. O, that a man were his owne man so much, To rule himselfe thus. I will striue i'faith,

To be more strange and carelesse: yet, I hope I haue now taken such a perfect course, To make her kind to me, and liue contented, That I shall find my kindnesse well return'd, And haue no need to fight with my affections. Shee (late) hath found much fault with euery roome Within my house; one was too big (shee said) Another was not furnisht to her mind, And so through all: all which, now, I haue alter'd. Then here, shee hath a place (on my backe-side) Wherein shee loues to walke; and that (shee said) Had some ill smels about it. Now, this walke Haue I (before shee knowes it) thus perfum'd With herbes, and flowres, and laid in diuers places, (AS 'twere on altars, consecrate to her) Perfumed gloues, and delicate chaines of amber, To keepe the aire in awe of her sweet nostrils: This haue I done, and this I thinke will please her. Behold, shee comes.

FALL.

Here's a sweet stinke indeed: What, shall I euer be thus crost, and plagu'd? And sicke of husband? O, my head doth ake, As it would cleaue asunder with these fauours, All my room's alter'd, and but one poore walke That I delighted in, and that is made So fulsome with perfumes, that I am fear'd (My braine doth sweat so) I haue caught the plague.

DELI.

Why (gentle wife) is now thy walke too sweet? Thou said'st of late, it had sowre aires about it, And found'st much fault, that I did not correct it.

FALL.

Why, and I did find fault, sir?

DELI.

Nay, deare wife; I know, thou hast staid, thou hast lou'd perfumes, No woman better.

FALL.

I, long since perhaps, But now that sense is alter'd: you would haue me (Like to a puddle, or a standing poole) To haue no motion, nor no spirit within me. No, I am like a pure, and sprightly riuer, That moues for euer, and yet still the same; Or fire, that burnes much wood, yet still one flame.

DELI.

But yesterday, I saw thee at our garden, Smelling on roses, and on purple flowres, And since, I hope, the humour of thy sense Is nothing chang'd.

FALL.

Why, those were growing flowres, And these, within my walke, are cut and strew'd.

DELI.

But yet they haue one sent.

FALL.

I! haue they so?

In your grosse iudgement. If you make no difference Betwixt the sent of growing flowres, and cut ones, You haue a sense to taste lamp-oile, yfaith. And with such iudgement haue you chang'd the chambers, Leauing no roome, that I can ioy to be in, In all your house: and now my walke, and all, You smoke me from, as if I were a foxe, And long, belike, to driue me quite away. Well, walke you there, and I'le walke where I list.

DELI.

What shall I doe? Ô, I shall neuer please her,

MACI.

Out on thee, dotard! what starre rul'd his birth? That brought him such a starre? blind Fortune still Bestowes her gifts on such as cannot vse them: How long shall I liue, ere I be so happy, To haue a wi••e of this exceeding forme?

DELI.

Away, with 'hem, would I had broke a ioynt,

〈◊〉〈◊〉 bea••es all away.

When I deuis'd this, that should so dislike her. Away, beare all away.

FALL.

I, doe: for feare Ought that is there should like her. O, this man, How cunningly he can conceale himselfe! As though he lou'd? nay, honour'd, and ador'd?

DELI.

Why, my sweet heart?

FALL.

Sweetheart! Ô! better still! And asking, why? wherefore? and looking strangely, As if he were as white as innocence. Alas, you'r simple, you: you cannot change, Looke pale at pleasure, and then red with wonder: No, no, not you! 'tis pitty o'your naturalls. I did but cast an amorous eye, e'en now, Vpon a paire of gloues, that somewhat lik't me, And straight he noted it, and gaue command, All should be ta'ne away.

DELI.

Be they nay bane then. What, sirra, FIDO, bring in those gloues againe, You tooke from hence.

FALL.

S'body, sir, but doe not, Bring in no gloues, to spite me: if you doe—

DELI.

Ay, me, most wretched; how am I misconstru'd?

MACI.

O, how shee tempts my heart-strings, with her eye, To knit them to her beauties, or to breake? What mou'd the heauens, that they could not make Me such a woman? but a man, a beast, That hath no blisse like to others. Would to heauen (In wreake of my misfortunes) I were turn'd To some faire water-Nymph, that (set vpon The deepest whirle-pit of the rau'nous seas,)

My adamantine eyes might head-long hale This iron world to me, and drowne it all.

GREX.

COR.

Behold, behold, the translated gallant.

MIT.

O, he is welcome.

Act II. Scene V.

FVNGOSO.

To the rest.

SAue you brother, and sister, saue you, sir; I haue commendations for you out ī the countrey: (I wonder they take no knowledge of my sute:) mine vncle SOCLIARDO is in towne. Sister, me thinkes, you are melancholy: why are you so sad? I thinke you tooke me for ma∣ster FASTIDIVS BRISLE (sister) did you not.

FALL.

Why should I take you for him?

FVNG.

Nay, nothing—I was lately in master FASTIDIVS his compa∣ny, and, me thinkes, we are very like.

DELI.

You haue a faire sute, brother, 'giue you ioy on't.

FVNG.

Faith, good ynough to ride in, brother, I made it to ride in.

FALL.

O, now I see the cause of his idle demand, was his new suit.

DELI.

Pray you good brother, trie, if you can change her mood.

FVNG.

I warrant you, let mee alone. I'le put her out of her dumps. Sister, how like you my suit?

FALL.

O, you are a gallant in print now, brother.

FVNG.

Faith, how like you the fashion? it's the last edition, I assure you.

FALL.

I cannot but like it, to the desert.

FVNG.

Troth, sister, I was faine to borrow these spurres, I ha' le••t my gowne in gage for'hem, pray you lend me an angell.

FALL.

Now, beshrow my heart, then.

FVNG.

Good truth, I'le pay you againe at my next exhibition: I had but bare ten pound of my father, and it would not reach to put me whol∣ly into the fashion.

FALL.

I care not.

FVNG.

I had spurres of mine owne before, but they were not ginglers. Monsieur FASTIDIVS will be here anon, sister.

FALL.

You iest?

FVNG.

Neuer lend me penny more (while you line then) and that I'ld be loth to say, in truth.

FALL.

When did you see him?

FVNG.

Yesterday, I came acquainted with him at sir PVNTARVO∣LO'S: nay, sweet sister.

MACI.

I faine would know of heauen now, why yond foole Should weare a suit of sattin? he? that rooke? That painted jay, with such a deale of out-side? What is his inside trow? ha, ha, ha, ha, ha. Good heauen, giue me patience, patience, patience. A number of these popen jayes there are, Whom, if a man conferre, and but examine Their inward merit, with such men as want; Lord, lord, what things they are!

FALL.

Come, when will you pay me againe, now?

FVNG.

O god, sister!

MACI.

Here comes another.

Act II. Scene VI.

FASTIDIVS BRISKE.

To the rest.

SAue you, signior DELIRO: how do'st thou, sweet lady? Let mee kisse thee.

FVNG.

How? a new sute? Ayme.

DELI.

And how do's master FASTIDIVS BRISKE?

FAST.

Faith, liue in court, signior DELIRO; in grace, I thanke god, both of the noble masculine, and feminine. I must speake with you in priuate, by and by.

DELI.

When you please, sir.

FALL.

Why looke you so pale, brother?

FVNG.

S'lid, all this money is cast away, now.

MACI.

I, there's a newer edition come forth.

FVNG.

Tis but my hard fortune! well, I'le haue my sute chang'd, I'le goe fetch my taylor presently, but first I'le deuise a letter to my father. Ha' you any pen, and inke, sister?

FALL.

What would you doe withall?

FVNG.

I would vse it. S'light, and it had come but foure daies sooner, the fashion.

FAST.

There was a countesse gaue me her hand to kisse to day, i' the presence: did me more good by that light, then—and yesternight sent her coach twise to my lodging, to intreat mee accompany her, and my sweet mistris, with some two, or three namelesse ladies more: O, I haue beene grac't by 'hem beyond all aime of affection: this 's her garter my dagger hangs in: and they doe so commend, and approue my apparell, with my iudicious wearing of it, it 's aboue wonder.

FALL.

Indeed sir, 'tis a most excellent sute, and you doe weare it as ex∣traordinary.

FAST.

Why, I'le tell you now (in good faith) and by this chaire, which (by the grace of god) I intend presently to sit in, I had three sutes in one

yeere, made three great ladies in loue with me: I had other three, vn-did three gentlemen in imitation: and other three, gat three other gentlemen widdowes of three thousand pound a yeere.

DELI.

Is't possible?

FAST.

O, beleeue it, sir; your good face is the witch, and your ap∣parell the spells, that bring all the pleasures of the world into their circle.

FALL.

Ah, the sweet grace of a courtier!

MACI.

Well, would my father had left mee but a good face for my portion yet; though I had shar'd the vnfortunate wit that goes with it, I had not car'd: I might haue past for somewhat i' the world then.

FAST.

Why, assure you, signior, rich apparell has strange vertues: it makes him that hath it without meanes, esteemed for an excellent wit: he that enioyes it with means, puts the world in remembrance of his means: it helps the deformities of nature, and giues lustre to her beauties; makes continuall holy-day where it shines; sets the wits of ladies at worke, that otherwise would be idle: furnisheth your two-shilling ordinarie; takes possession of your stage at your new play; and enricheth your oares, as scorning to goe with your scull.

MACI.

Pray you, sir, adde this; it giues respect to your fooles, makes many theeues, as many strumpets, and no fewer bankrupts.

FALL.

Out, out, vnworthy to speake, where he breatheth.

FAST.

What's he, signior?

DELI.

A friend of mine, sir.

FAST.

By heauen, I wonder at you, citizens, what kinde of creatures you are!

DELI.

Why, sir?

FAST.

That you can consort your selues, with such poore seame-rent fellowes.

FALL.

He saies true.

DELI.

Sir, I will assure you (how euer you esteeme of him) he's a man worthy of regard.

FAST.

Why? what has he in him, of such vertue to be regarded? ha?

DELI.

Mary, he is a scholler, sir.

FAST.

Nothing else?

DELI.

And he is well trauail'd.

FAST.

He should get him clothes; I would cherish those good parts of trauaile in him, and preferre him to some nobleman of good place.

DELI.

Sir, such a benefit should bind me to you for euer (in my friends right) and, I doubt not, but his desert shall more then answere my praise.

FAST.

Why, and he had good clothes, I'ld carry him to court with me to morrow.

DELI.

He shall not want for those, sir, if gold and the whole city will furnish him.

FAST.

You say well, sir: faith, signior DELIRO, I am come to haue

you play the Alchymist with me, and change the species of my land, into that mettall you talke of.

DELI.

With all my heart, sir, what summe will serue you?

FAST.

Faith, some three, or foure hundred.

DELI.

Troth, sir, I haue promist to meet a gentleman this morning, in Par••les, but vpon my returne I'le dispatch you.

FAST.

I'le accompany you thither.

DELI.

As you please, sir; but I goe not thither directly.

FAST.

'Tis no matter, I haue no other designement in hand, and therefore as good goe along.

DELI.

I were as good haue a quartane feauer follow me now, for I shall ne're bee rid of him: (being mee a cloke there, one) Still, vpon his grace at court, am I sure to bee visited; I was a beast to giue him any hope. Well, would I were in, that I am out with him, once, and— Come, signior MACILENTE, I must conferre with you, as wee goe. Nay, deare wife, I beseech thee, forsake these moods: looke not like winter thus. Here, take my keyes, open my counting houses, spread all my wealth before thee, choose any obiect that delights thee: If thou wilt eate the spirit of gold, and drinke dissolu'd pearle in wine, 'tis for thee.

FALL.

So, sir.

DELI.

Nay, my sweet wife.

FALL.

Good lord! how you are perfum'd! in your termes, and al! pray you leaue vs.

DELI.

Come, gentlemen.

FAST.

Adiew, sweet lady.

FALL.

I, I! Let thy words euer sound in mine eares, and thy graces disperse contentment through all my senses! O, how happy is that lady aboue other ladies, that enioyes so absolute a gentleman to her seruant! A countesse giue him her hand to kisse? ah, foolish countesse! hee's a man worthy (if a woman may speake of a mans worth) to kisse the lips of an empresse.

FVNG.

Ret••••nd with his taylor.

What's master FASTIDIVS gone, sister?

FALL.

I, brother (he has a face like a Cherubin!)

FVNG.

Gods me, what lucke's this? I haue fetcht my taylor and all: which way went he, sister? can you tell?

FALL.

Not I, in good faith (and he has a body like an angell!)

FVNG.

How long is't since he went?

FALL.

Why, but e'en now: did you not meet him? (and a tongue able to rauish any woman i' the earth!)

FVNG.

O, for gods sake (I'le please you for your paines:) but e'en now, say you? Come, good, sir: S'lid, I had forgot it too: Sister, if any body aske for mine vncle SOGLIARDO, they shall ha' him at the Heralds office, yonder by Paules.

FALL.

Well, I will not altogether despaire: I haue heard of a citizens wife, has beene belou'd of a courtier; and why not I? heigh, ho: well, I

will into my priuate chamber, locke the dore to mee, and thinke ouer all his good parts, one after another.

GREX.

MIT.

Well, I doubt, this last Scene will endure some grieuous torture.

COR.

How? you feare 'twill be rackt, by some hard construction?

MIT.

Doe not you?

COR.

No, in good faith: vnlesse mine eyes could light mee beyond sense. I see no reason, why this should be more liable to the racke, then the rest: you'le say, perhaps, the city will not take it well, that the marchant is made here to dote so perfectly vpon his wife; and shee againe, to bee so Fastidiously affected, as shee is?

MIT.

You haue vtter'd my thought, sir, indeed.

COR.

Why (by that proportion) the court might as wel take offence at him we call the courtier, and with much more pretext, by how much the place transcends, and goes before in dignitie and vertue: but can you imagine that any noble, or true spirit in court (whose sinowie, and altoge∣ther vn-affected graces, very worthily expresse him a courtier) will make any exception at the opening of such an emptie trunke, as this BRISKE is? or thinke his owne worth empeacht, by beholding his motley inside?

MIT.

No sir, I doe not.

COR.

No more, assure you, will any graue, wise citizen, or modest matron, take the obiect of this folly in DELIRO, and his wife: but rather apply it as the foile to their owne vertues. For that were to affirme, that a man, writing of NERO, should meane all Emperors: or speaking of MA∣CHIAVEL, comprehend all States-men; or in our SORDIDO, all Farmars; and so of the rest: then which, nothing can be vtter'd more malicious, or absurd. Indeed, there are a sort of these narrow-ey'd decypherers, I con∣fesse, that will extort strange, and abstruse meanings out of any subiect, be it neuer so conspicuous and innocently deliuer'd. But to such (where e're they sit conceal'd) let them know, the author defies them, and their wri∣ting-tables; and hopes, no sound or safe iudgement will infect it selfe with their contagious comments, who (indeed) come here only to peruert, and poison the sense of what they heare, and for nought else.

MIT.

Stay, what new Mute is this, that walkes so suspiciously?

COR.

O, mary this is one, for whose better illustration; we must de∣sire you to presuppose the stage, the middle isle in Paules; and that, the west end of it.

MIT.

So, sir: and what followes?

COR.

Faith, a whole volume of humour, and worthy the vnclasping.

MIT.

As how? what name doe you giue him first?

COR.

He hath shift of names, sir: some call him APPLE IOHN, some Signior WHIFFE, mary, his maine standing name is CAVALIER SHIFT: the rest are but as cleane shirts to his natures.

MIT.

And what makes he in Paules, now?

COR.

Troth, as you see, for the aduancement of a Siquis, or two; wherein he has so varied himselfe, that if any one of 'hem take, he may hull ••p and downe i' the humorous world, a little longer.

MIT.

It seemes then, he beares a very changing saile?

COR.

O, as the wind, sir: here comes more.