The workes of Beniamin Ionson

Act II. Scene III.

AMORPHVS, ASOTVS, COS, PROSAITES, CVPID, MERCVRIE.

COme, sir. You are now within in regard of the presence, and see, the priuacie of this roome, how sweetly it offers it selfe to our re∣tir'd intendments. Page, cast a vigilant, and enquiring eye about, that we be not rudely surpriz'd, by the approch of some ruder stranger.

COS.

I warrant you, sir. I'le tell your when the wolfe enters, feare nothing.

MER.

O, what a masse of benefit shall we possesse, in being the inui∣sible spectators of this strange shew, now to be acted?

AMO.

Plant your selfe there, sir: and obserue me. You shall now, as well be the ocular, as the eare-witnesse, how cleerly I can refell that para∣dox, or rather pseudodox, of those, which hold the face to be the index of the mind, which (I assure you) is not so, in any politique creature: for in∣stance. I will now giue you the particular, and distinct face of euery your most noted species of persons, as your marchant, your scholer, your soul∣dier, your lawyer, courtier, &c. and each of these so truly, as you would sweare, but that your eye shal see the variation of the lineament, it were my most proper, and genuine aspect. First, for your marchant, or citie-face, 'tis thus, a dull, plodding face, still looking in a direct line, forward: there is no great matter in this face. Then haue you your students, or a∣cademique face, which is here, an honest, simple, and methodicall face: but somewhat more spread then the former. The third is your souldiers face, a menacing, and astounding face, that lookes broad, and bigge: the grace of this face consisteth much in a beard. The anti-face to this, is your lawyers face, a contracted, subtile, and intricate face, full of quirkes, and turnings, a labyrinthaean face, now angularly, now circularly, euery way aspected. Next is your statists face, a serious, solemne, and supercilious face, full of formall, and square grauitie, the eye (for the most part) deep∣ly and artificially shadow'd: there is great iudgement required in the ma∣king of this face. But now, to come to your face of faces, or courtiers face, tis of three sorts, according to our subdiuision of a courtier, elementarie, practique, and theorique. Your courtier theorique, is hee, that hath ar∣riu'd to his fardest, and doth now know the court, rather by speculation, then practice; and this is his face: a fastidious and oblique face, that lookes, as it went with a vice, and were screw'd thus. Your courtier pra∣ctike, is he, that is yet in his path, his course, his way, & hath not toucht the puntilio, or point of his hopes; his face is here: a most promising, open,

smooth, and ouer-flowing face, that seemes as it would runne, and powre it selfe into you. Somewhat a northerly face. Your courtier elementarie, is one but newly enter'd, or as it were in the alphabet, or vt-re-mi-fa-sol-la of courtship. Note well this face, for it is this you must practice.

ASO.

Ile practice 'hem all, if you please, sir.

ANO.

I, hereafter you may: and it will not be altogether an vngrate∣full study. For, let your soule be assur'd of this (in any ranke, or professi∣on what-euer) the more generall, or maior part of opinion goes with the face, and (simply) respects nothing else. Therefore, if that can be made exactly, curiously, exquisitely, thorowly, it is inough: But (for the pre∣sent) you shall only apply your selfe to this face of the elementarie cour∣tier, a light, reuelling, and protesting face, now blushing, now smiling, which you may helpe much with a wanton wagging of your head, thus, (a feather will teach you) or with kissing your ••inger that hath the ruby, or playing with some string of your band, which is a most quaint kind of melancholy besides: or (if among ladies) laughing lowd, and crying vp your owne wit, though perhaps borrow'd, it is not amisse. Where is your page? call for your casting-bottle, and place your mirrour in your hat, as I told you: so. Come, looke not pale, obserue me, set your face, and enter.

MER.

O, for some excellent painter, to haue tane the copy of all these faces!

ASO.

PROSAITES.

AMO.

Fye, I premonisht you of that: In the court, boy, lacquay, or sirrah.

COS.

Master, Lupus in— O, t'is PROSAITES.

ASO.

Sirrha prepare my casting-bottle, I thinke I must be enforc'd to purchase me another page, you see how at hand COS waits, here.

MER.

So will he too, in time.

CVP.

What's he, MERCVRIE?

MER.

A notable smelt. One, that hath newly entertain'd the begger to follow him, but cannot get him to wait neere enough. T'is ASOTVS, the heire of PHILARGYRVS; but first I'le giue yee the others character, which may make his the cleerer. He that is with him, is AMORPHVS, a trauailer, one so made out of the mixture and shreds of formes, that himselfe is truly deform••d. He walkes most commonly with a cloue, or pick-tooth in his mouth, hee is the very mint of complement, all his be∣hauiours are printed, his face is another volume of essayes; and his beard an Aristarchus. He speakes all creame, skimd, and more affected then a dozen of waiting women. He is his owne promoter in euery place. The wife of the ordinarie giues him his diet, to maintaine her table in discourse, which (indeed) is a meere tyrannie ouer her other guests, for hee will v∣surpe all the talke: ten constables are not so tedious. He is no great shifter, once a yeere his apparell is readie to reuolt. He doth vse much to arbitrate quarrels, and fights himselfe, exceeding well (out at a window.) He will

lye cheaper then any begger, and lowder then most clockes: for which he is right properly accommodated to the whetstone, his page. The other gal∣lant is his Zani, and doth most of these trickes after him; sweates to imi∣tate him in euery thing (to a haire) except a beard, which is not yet ex∣tant. He doth learne to make strange sauces, to eat aenchouies, maccaroni, bo∣uoli, fagioli, and cauiare, because hee loues 'hem; speakes as hee speakes, lookes, walkes, goes so in clothes, and fashion: is in all, as if he were moul∣ded of him. Mary (before they met) he had other verie prettie sufficien∣cies, which yet he retaines some light impression of: as frequenting a dan∣cing schoole, and grieuously torturing strangers, with inquisition after his grace in his galliard. He buyes a fresh acquaintance at any rate. His eye and his rayment confer much together as he goes in the street. He treades nicely, like the fellow that walkes vpon ropes; especially the first sunday of his silke-stockings: and when he is most neat, and new, you shall strip him with commendations.

CVP.

Here comes another.

MER.

Cri••es passeth by.

I, but one of another straine, CVPID: This fellow weighs somewhat.

CVP.

His name, HERMES?

MER.

CRITES. A creature of a most perfect and diuine temper. One, in whom the humours and elements are peaceably met, without emulati∣on of precedencie: he is neyther to phantastikely melancholy, too slowly phlegmaticke, too lightly sanguine, or too rashly cholericke, but in all, so composde & order'd, as it is cleare, Nature went about some ful worke, she did more then make a man, when she made him. His discourse is like his behauiour, vncommon, but not vnpleasing; hee is prodigall of ney∣ther. Hee striues rather to bee that which men call iudicious, then to bee thought so: and is so truly learned, that he affects not to shew it. Hee will thinke, and speake his thought, both freely: but as distant from deprauing another mans merit, as proclaiming his owne. For his valour, tis such, that he dares as little to offer an iniurie, as receiue one. In summe, he hath a most ingenuous and sweet spirit, a sharp and season'd wit, a straight iudg∣ment, and a strong mind. Fortune could neuer breake him, nor make him lesse. He counts it his pleasure, to despise pleasures, and is more delighted with good deeds, then goods. It is a competencie to him that hee can bee vertuous. He doth neyther couet nor feare; hee hath too much reason to doe eyther: and that commends all things to him.

CVP.

Not better then MERCVRY commends him.

MER.

O, CVPID, tis beyond my deitie to giue him his due prayses: I could leaue my place in heauen, to liue among mortals, so I were sure to be no other then he.

CVP.

S'light, I beleeue he is your minion, you seeme to be so rauisht with him.

MER.

He's one, I would not haue a wry thought darted against, wil∣lingly.

CVP.

No, but a straight shaft in his bosome, Ile promise him, if I am CITHEREAS sonne.

MER.

Shall we goe, CVPID?

CVP.

Stay, and see the ladies now: they'll come presently. Ile helpe to paint them.

MER.

What! lay colour vpon colour? that affords but an ill blazon.

CVP.

Argurion pas∣seth by.

Here comes mettall to helpe it, the ladie ARGVRION.

MER.

Monie, monie.

CVP.

The same. A Nymph of a most wandring and giddy dispositi∣on, humorous as the aire, shee'le runne from gallant to gallant (as they sit at primero in the presence) most strangely, and seldome stayes with any. Shee spreads as shee goes. To day you shall haue her looke as cleere and fresh as the morning, and to morrow as melancholike as mid-night. Shee takes speciall pleasure in a close obscure lodging, and, for that cause, visites the city so often, where shee has many secret true-concealing fauourites. When shee comes abroad, shee's more loose and scattering then dust, and will flie from place to place, as shee were rapt with a whirle-winde. Your yong student (for the most part) shee affects not, only salutes him, and a∣way: a poet, nor a philosopher, shee is hardly brought to take any notice of; no, though he be some part of an alchemist. Shee loues a player well, and a lawyer infinitely: but your foole aboue all. Shee can doe much in court for the obtayning of any sute whatsoeuer, no doore but flies open to her, her presence is aboue a charme. The worst in her is want of keeping state, and too much descending into inferior and base offices, she's for any coorse imployment you will put vpon her, as to be your procurer, or pandar.

MER.

Peace, CVPID, here comes more worke for you, another chara∣cter or two.