The workes of Beniamin Ionson

After the second sounding.

INDVCTION. BY THREE OF THE CHILDREN.

PRay you away; why fellowes? Gods so? what doe you meane?

2.

Mary that you shall not speake the Prologue, sir.

3.

Why? doe you hope to speake it?

2.

I, and I thinke I haue most right to it: I am sure I studied it first.

3.

That's all one, if the Authour thinke I can speake it better.

1.

I pleade possession of the cloake: Gentles, your suffrages I pray you.

Within.

¶ Why Children are you not asham'd? come in there.

3.

Slid, I'le play nothing i' the Play: vnlesse I speake it.

1.

Why, will you stand to most voices of the gentlemen! let that de∣cide it.

3.

O no, sir gallant; you presume to haue the start of vs there, and that makes you offer so prodigally.

1.

No, would I were whipt, if I had any such thought: trie it by lots either.

2.

Faith, I dare tempt my fortune in a greater venter then this.

3.

Well said, resolute Iacke, I am content too: so wee draw first. Make the cuts.

1.

But will you not snatch my cloake, while I am stooping?

3.

No, we scorne treacherie.

2.

Which cut shall speake it?

3.

The shortest.

1.

Agreed.

Draw.

The shortest is come to the shortest. For∣tune

was not altogether blind in this. Now, sir, I hope I shall goe forward without your enuie.

2.

A spite of all mischieuous lucke! I was once plucking at the other.

3.

Stay, Iacke: Slid, I'le doe somewhat now afore I goe in, though it be nothing but to reuenge my selfe on the Authour: since I speake not his Prologue. Ile goe tell all the argument of his play aforehand, and so stale his inuention to the auditorie before it come forth.

1.

At the breaches in this speech following, the o∣ther two inter∣rupt him, still.

O, doe not so.

2.

By no meanes.

3.

First, the title of his play is CYNTHIAS Reuels, as any man (that hath hope to bee saued by his booke) can witnesse; the Scene, GARGA∣PHIE: which I doe vehemently suspect for some sustian countrie, but let that vanish. Here, is the court of CYNTHIA, whither hee brings CV∣PID (trauailing on foot) resolu'd to turne page. By the way, CVPID meetes with MERCVRIE, (as that's a thing to be noted, take anie of our play-bookes without a CVPID, or a MERCVRY in it, and burne it for an heretique in Poetrie)— Pray thee let me alone. MERCVRY, he (in the nature of a conjurer) raises vp ECCHO, who weepes ouer her loue, or Daffodill, NARCISSVS, a little; sings; curses the spring where∣in the prettie foolish gentleman melted himselfe away: and ther's an end of her.—Now I am to informe you, that CVPID, and MERCVRY doe both become pages. CVPID attends on PHILAVTIA, or selfe-Loue, a court-ladie MERCVRY followes HEDON, the voluptuous, and a courtier; one that rankes himselfe euen with ANAIDES, or the impudent, a gallant, (and that's my part:) one that keepes laughter, GELAIA the daughter of folly, (a wench in boyes attire) to waite on him—These, in the court, meet with AMORPHVS, or the deformed; a trauailer that hath drunke of the fountaine, and there tels the wonders of the water. They presently dispatch away their pages with bottles to fetch of it, and them∣selues goe to visite the ladies. But I should haue told you— (Looke, these emets put me out here) that with this AMORPHVS, there comes a∣long a citizens heire, ASOTVS, or the prodigall, who (in imitation of the traueller, who hath the whetstone following him) entertaines the begger, to be his attendant.—Now, the Nymphs who are mistresses to these gal∣lants, are PHILAVTIA, selfe-Loue; PHANTASTE, a light wittinesse; ARGV∣RION monie; and their Guardian, mother MORIA; or mistresse folly.—

1.

Pray thee no more.

3.

There CVPID strikes monie in loue with the prodigall, makes her dote vpon him, giue him iewels, bracelets, carkenets, &c. all which (hee most ingeniously departs withall) to be made knowne to the other ladies and gallants; and in the heat of this, increases his traine with the foole to follow him, aswell as the begger.— By this time, your begger begins to waite close, who is return'd with the rest of his fellow bottle-men.— There they all drinke, saue ARGVRION, who is falne into a sodaine apoplexie.—

1.

Stop his mouth.

3.

And then, there's a retired scholler there, you would not wish a thing to be better contemn'd of a societie of gallants, then it is: and hee applies his seruice (good gentleman) to the ladie ARETE, or vertue, a poore Nymph of CYNTHIAS traine, that's scarce able to buy her selfe a gowne, you shall see her play in a blacke robe anon: A creature, that (I assure you) is no lesse scorn'd, then himselfe. Where am I now? at a stand?

2.

Come, leaue at last, yet.

3.

O, the night is come, (t'was somewhat darke, mee thought) and CYNTHIA intends to come forth: (That helps it a little yet.) All the courtiers must prouide for reuels; they conclude vpon a Masque, the de∣uice of which, is—(what, will you rauish mee?) that each of these vices, being to appeare before CYNTHIA, would seeme other then in∣deed they are: and therefore assume the most neighbouring vertues as their masking habites.— (I'lde crie, a rape, but that you are chil∣dren.)

2.

Come, wee'le haue no more of this anticipation: to giue them the inuentorie of their cates aforehand, were the discipline of a tauerne, and not fitting this presence.

1.

Tut, this was but to shew vs the happinesse of his memorie. I thought at first, he would haue plaid the ignorant critique with euerie thing, along as he had gone, I expected some such deuice.

3.

O, you shall see me doe that, rarely, lend me thy cloake.

1.

Soft, sir, you'le speake my Prologue in it.

3.

No, would I might neuer stirre then.

2.

Lend it him, lend it him.

1.

Well, you haue sworne.

3.

At the breaches he takes his ta∣bacco.

I haue. Now, sir, suppose I am one of your gentile auditors, that an come in (hauing paid my monie at the doore, with much adoe) and here I take my place, and sit downe: I haue my three sorts of tabacco in my pocket, my sight by me, and thus I beginne. By this light, I wonder that any man is so mad, to come to see these rascally Tits play here— They doe act like so manie wrens, or pismires—not the fift part of a good face amongst them all—And then their musicke is abomina∣ble—able to stretch a mans eares worse then tenne— pillories, and their ditties—most lamentable things, like the pittifull fellowes that make them—Poets. By this vapour, and 'twere not for tabac∣co—I thinke—the verie stench of 'hem would poison mee, I should not dare to come in at their gates—A man were better visit fifteene jailes,—or a dozen or two of hospitals—then once aduenture to come neere them. How is't? Well?

1.

Excellent: giue mee my cloake.

3.

Stay; you shall see me doe another now: but a more sober, or bet∣ter-gather'd gallant; that is (as it may bee thought) some friend, or wel∣wisher to the house: And here I enter.

1.

What? vpon the stage, too?

2.

Yes: and I step forth like one of the children, and aske you, Would you haue a stoole, sir?

3.

A stoole, boy?

2.

I, sir, if youle giue me six pence, Ile fetch you one.

3.

For what I pray thee? what shall I doe with it?

2.

O lord, sir! will you betraie your ignorance so much? why throne your selfe in state on the stage, as other gentlemen vse, sir.

3.

Away, wagge, what, would'st thou make an implement of me? Slid the boy takes me for a piece of perspectiue (I hold my life) or some silke cortaine, come to hang the stage here! sir cracke, I am none of your fresh pictures, that vse to beautifie the decaied dead arras, in a publike theatre.

2.

T'is a signe, sir, you put not that confidence in your good clothes, and your better face, that a gentleman should doe, sir. But I pray you sir, let mee bee a suter to you, that you will quit our stage then, and take a place, the play is instantly to beginne.

3

Most willingly, my good wag: but I would speake with your Au∣thour, where's he?

2.

Not this way, I assure you, sir: wee are not so officiously befrien∣ded by him, as to haue his presence in the tiring••house, to prompt vs a∣loud, stampe at the booke-holder, sweare for our properties, curse the poore tire-man, raile the musicke out of tune, and sweat for euerie veni∣all trespasse we commit, as some Authour would, if he had such fine en∣gles as we. Well, tis but our hard fortune.

3.

Nay, cracke, be not dis-heartned.

2.

Not I, sir, but if you please to conferre with our Author, by attur∣ney, you may, sir: our proper selfe here, stands for him.

3.

Troth, I haue no such serious affaire to negotiate with him, but what may verie safely bee turn'd vpon thy trust. It is in the generall be∣halfe of this faire societie here, that I am to speake, at least the more iudici∣ous part of it, which seemes much distasted with the immodest and ob∣scene writing of manie, in their playes. Besides, they could wish, your Poets would leaue to bee promoters of other mens iests, and to way-lay all the stale apothegmes, or olde bookes, they can heare of (in print, or other∣wise) to farce their Scenes withall. That they would not so penuriously gleane wit, from euerie laundresse, or hackney-man, or deriue their best grace (with seruile imitation) from common stages, or obseruation of the companie they conuerse with; as if their inuention liu'd wholy vpon ano∣ther mans trencher. Againe, that feeding their friends with nothing of their owne, but what they haue twice or thrice cook'd, they should not want only giue out, how soone they had drest it; nor how manie coaches came to carrie away the broken-meat, besides hobbie-horses, and foot∣cloth nags.

2.

So, sir, this is all the reformation you seeke?

3.

It is: doe not you thinke it necessarie to be practiz'd, my little wag?

2.

Yes, where any such ill-habited custome is receiu'd.

3.

O (I had almost forgot it too) they say, the vmbrae, or ghosts of some three or foure playes, departed a dozen yeeres since, haue bin seene walking on your stage heere: take heed, boy, if your house bee haunted with such hob-goblins, t'will fright away all your spectators quickly.

2.

Good, sir, but what will you say now, if a Poet (vntoucht with any breath of this disease) find the tokens vpon you, that are of the auditorie? As some one ciuet-wit among you, that knowes no other learning, then the price of satten and vellets; nor other perfection, then the wearing of a neat sute; and yet will censure as desperately as the most profess'd cri∣tique in the house: presuming, his clothes should beare him out in't. Ano∣ther (whom it hath pleas'd nature to furnish with more beard, then braine) prunes his mustaccio, lisps, and (with some score of affected othes) sweares downe all that sit about him; That the old Hieronimo, (as it was first acted) was the onely best, and iudiciously pend play of Europe. A third great∣bellied juggler talkes of twentie yeeres since, and when MONSIEVR was heere, and would enforce all wits to bee of that fashion, because his dou∣blet is still so. A fourth miscals all by the name of fustian, that his groun∣ded capacitie cannot aspire to. A fift, only shakes his bottle-head, and out of his corkie braine, squeezeth out a pittiful-learned face, and is silent.

3.

By my faith, Iacke, you haue put mee downe: I would I knew how to get off with any indifferent grace. Heere, take your cloke, and promise some satisfaction in your Prologue, or (I'le be sworne) wee haue marr'd all.

2.

Tut, feare not, child, this wil neuer distaste a true sense: Be not out, and good enough. I would thou hadst some sugar-candied, to sweeten thy mouth.