The workes of Beniamin Ionson

Act II. (Book 2)

Scene I.

CVPID, MERCVRY.

WHy, this was most vnexpectedly followed (by diuine deli∣cate MERCVRY) by the beard of IOVE, thou art a precious deitie.

MER.

Nay, CVPID, leaue to speake improperly, since wee are turn'd cracks, let's studie to be like cracks; practise their language, and behaui∣ours, and not with a dead imitation: act freely, carelessely, and caprici∣ously, as if our veines ranne with quick-siluer, and not vtter a phrase, but what shall come forth steept in the verie brine of conceipt, and sparkle like salt in fire.

CVP.

That's not euerie ones happinesse (HERMES) though you can presume vpon the easinesse and dexteritie of your wit, you shall giue me leaue to be a little jealous of mine; and not desperately to hazard it after your capring humour.

MER.

Nay, then, CVPID, I thinke wee must haue you hood-winkt againe, for you are growne too prouident, since your eyes were at libertie.

CVP.

Not so (MERCVRY) I am still blind CVPID to thee.

MER.

And what to the ladie Nymph you serue?

CVP.

Troth, page, boy, and sirha: these are all my titles.

MER.

Then thou hast not altered thy name, with thy disguise?

CVP.

O, no, that had beene supererogation, you shall neuer heare your courtier call but by one of these three.

MER.

Faith, then both our fortunes are the same.

CVP.

Why? what parcell of man hast thou lighted on for a master?

MER.

Such a one (as before I begin to decipher him) I dare not af∣firme to be any thing lesse then a courtier. So much hee is, during this o∣pen time of reuels, and would be longer, but that his meanes are to leaue him shortly after. His name is HEDON, a gallant wholy consecrated to his pleasures.—

CVP.

HEDON? he vses much to my ladies chamber, I thinke.

MER.

How is she cal'd, and then I can shew thee?

CVP.

Madame PHILAVTIA.

MER.

O I, he affects her verie particularly indeed. These are his gra∣ces. Hee doth (besides me) keepe a barber, and a monkie: Hee has a rich wrought wast••coat to entertaine his visitants in, with a cap almost sutable. His curtaines, and bedding are thought to bee his owne: his bathing-tub is not suspected. Hee loues to haue a fencer, a pedant, and a musician seene in his lodging a mornings.

CVP.

And not a poet?

MER.

Fye no: himselfe is a rimer, and that's a thought better then a poet. He is not lightly within to his mercer, no, though he come when he takes physicke, which is commonly after his play. He beates a tailour very well, but a stocking-seller admirably: and so consequently any one hee owes monie too, that dares not resist him. Hee neuer makes generall in∣ui••ement, but against the publishing of a new sute, marie then, you shall haue more drawne to his lodging, then come to the lanching of some three ships; especially if he be furnish'd with supplies for the retyring of his old ward-robe from pawne: if not, he do's hire a stocke of apparell, and some fortie, or fiftie pound in gold, for that fore-noone to shew. He's thought a verie necessarie perfume for the presence, and for that onely cause wel∣come thither: sixe millaners shops affoord you not the like sent. He courts ladies with how many great horse he hath rid that morning, or how oft he hath done the whole, or the halfe pommado in a seuen-night before: and sometime venters so farre vpon the vertue of his pomander, that he dares tell'hem, how many shirts he has sweat at tennis that weeke, but wisely conceales so many dozen of bals hee is on the score. Here hee comes, that is all this.

Act II. Scene II.

HEDON, MERCVRY, ANAIDES, GELAIA, CVPID.

BOy.

MER.

Sir.

HED.

Are any of the ladies in the presence?

MER.

None yet, sir.

HED.

Giue me some gold, more.

ANA.

Is that thy boy, HEDON?

HED.

I, what think'st thou of him?

ANA.

S'hart, Il'd geld him; I warrant he has the philosophers stone.

HED.

Well said, my good melancholy deuill: Sirrah, I haue deuisde one or two of the prettiest othes (this morning in my bed) as euer thou heard'st, to protest withall in the presence.

ANA.

Pray thee, let's heare 'hem.

HED.

Soft, thou'lt vse 'hem afore me.

ANA.

No (dam' me then) I haue more othes then I know how to vtter, by this ayre.

HED.

Faith, one is, by the tip of your eare, sweet ladie. Is't not prettie, and gentile?

ANA.

Yes, for the person 'tis applyed to, a ladie. It should bee light, and—

HED.

Nay, the other is better, exceeds it much: the inuention is far∣der set too. By the white valley that lies betweene the Alpine hils of your bosome, I protest—&c.

ANA.

Well, you trauel'd for that, HEDON.

MER.

I, in a map, where his eyes were but blinde guides to his vnder∣standing, it seemes.

HED.

And then I haue a salutation will nicke all, by this caper: hay!

ANA.

How is that?

HED.

You know I call madame PHILAVTIA, my Honour; and shee cals me her Ambition. Now, (when I meet her in the presence anon) I will come to her, and say, sweet Honour, I haue hitherto contented my sense with the lillies of your hand, but now I will taste the roses of your lip; and (withall) kisse her: to which she cannot but blushingly answere, nay, now you are too am∣bitious. And then doe I reply; I cannot bee too ambitious of honour, sweet la∣die. Wil't not be good? ha? ha?

ANA.

O, assure your soule.

HED.

By heauen, I thinke 'twill bee excellent, and a verie politike at∣chiuement of a kisse.

ANA.

I haue thought vpon one for MORIA, of a sodaine too, if it take.

HED.

What is't, my deare inuention?

ANA.

Mary, I will come to her, (and shee alwayes weares a muffe, if

you bee remembred) and I will tell her, Madame, your whole selfe cannot but be perfectly wise: for your hands haue wit enough to keepe themselues warme.

HED.

Now, (before IOVE) admirable! looke, thy page takes it too, by Ph••bus, my sweet facetious rascall, I could eate water-gruell with thee a moneth, for this iest, my deare rogue.

ANA.

O, (by HERCVLES) 'tis your onely dish, aboue all your pota∣to's, or oyster-pyes in the world.

HED.

I haue ruminated vpon a most rare wish too, and the prophecie to it, but Ile haue some friend to be the prophet; as thus: I doe wish my selfe one of my mistresse Cioppini. Another demands, Why would he be one of his Mistresse Cioppini? A third answeres, Because he would make her higher. A fourth shall say, That will make her proud. And a fifth shall conclude: Then doe I prophecie, pride will haue a fall, and he shall giue it her.

ANA.

I'le be your prophet. By gods so, it will be most exquisite, thou art a fine inuentious Rogue, sirrah.

HED.

Nay, and I haue poesies for rings too, and riddles that they dreame not of.

ANA.

Tut, they'll doe that, when they come to sleep on them time e∣nough; but were thy deuices neuer in the presence yet, HEDON?

HED.

O, no, I disdaine that.

ANA.

Twere good we went afore then, and brought them acquainted with the roome where they shall act, lest the stratagems of it put them out of countenance, when they should come forth.

CVR.

Is that a courtier too?

MER.

Troth no; he has two essentiall parts of the courtier, pride, and ignorance; mary, the rest come somewhat after the ordinarie gallant. Tis impudence it selfe, ANAIDES; one, that speakes all that comes in his checkes, and will blush no more then a sackbut. Hee lightly occupies the iesters roome at the table, and keepes laughter GELAIA (a wench in pages attire) following him in place of a squire, whom he now and then tickles with some strange ridiculous stuffe, vtter'd (as his land came to him) by chance. He will censure or discourse of any thing, but as absurdly as you would wish. His fashion is not to take knowledge of him that is beneath him in clothes. Hee neuer drinkes below the salt. Hee do's naturally ad∣mire his wit, that weares gold-lace, or tissue. Stabs any man that speakes more contemptibly of the scholler then he. Hee is a great proficient in all the illiberall sciences, as cheating, drinking, swaggering, whoring, and such like: neuer kneeles but to pledge healths; nor prayes but for a pipe of pudding tabacco. He wil blaspheme in his shirt. The othes which hee vomits at one supper, would maintaine a towne of garrison in good swea∣ring a twelue-moneth. One other genuine qualitie he has, which crownes all these, and that is this: to a friend in want, hee will not depart with the waight of a soldred groat, lest the world might censure him prodigall, or report him a gull: mary, to his cockatrice or punquetto, halfe a dozen taffata

gownes, or sattin kirtles, in a paire or two of moneths, why they are nothing.

CVR.

I commend him, he is one of my clients.

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.

Act II. Scene IIII.

PHANTASTE, MORIA, PHILAVTIA, MERCVRIE, CVPID.

STay, sweet PHILAVTIA, I'le but change my fanne, and goe pre∣sently.

MOR.

Now (in very good serious) ladies, I will haue this order reuerst, the presence must be better maintayn'd from you: a quarter past eleuen, and ne're a Nymph in prospectiue? beshrew my hand, there must be a reform'd discipline. Is that your new ruffe, sweet lady-bird? By my truth, 'tis most intricately rare.

MER.

Good IOVE, what reuerend gentlewoman in yeeres might this be?

CVP.

This, Madam MORIA, guardian of the Nymphs. One that is not now to be perswaded of her wit, shee will thinke her selfe wise against all the iudgements that come. A lady made all of voice, and aire, talkes any thing of any thing. Shee is like one of your ignorant Poetasters of the

time, who when they haue got acquainted with a strange word, neuer rest till they haue wroong it in, though it loosen the whole fabricke of their sense.

MER.

That was pretty and sharply noted, CVPID.

CVP.

Shee will tell you, Philosophie was a fine reueller, when shee was yong, and a gallant, and that then (though she say it) she was thought to be the Dame-DIDO, and HELLEN of the court: As also, what a sweet dogge shee had this time foure yeeres, and how it was call'd Fortune, and that (if the sates had not cut his thred) he had beene a dogge to haue gi∣uen entertainement to any gallant in this kingdome: and, vnlesse shee had whelpt it her selfe, shee could not haue lou'd a thing better i'this world.

MER.

O, I pray thee no more, I am full of her.

CVP.

Yes (I must needes tell you) shee composes a sack-posset well; and would court a yong page sweetly, but that her breath is against it.

MER.

Now, her breath (or something more strong) protect mee from her: th'other, th'other, CVPID.

CVP.

O, that's my lady and mistris, Madam PHILAVTIA. Shee ad∣mires not her selfe for any one particularity, but for all: shee is faire, and shee knowes it: shee has a pretty light wit too, and shee knowes it: shee can dance, and shee knowes that too: play at shittle-cock, and that too: no quality shee has, but shee shall take a very particular knowledge of, and most lady-like commend it to you. You shall haue her at any time reade you the historie of her selfe, and very subtilly runne ouer another ladies sufficiencies, to come to her owne. Shee has a good superficiall iudgement in painting; and would seeme to haue so in poetry. A most compleat lady in the opinion of some three, beside her-selfe.

PHI.

Faith, how lik'd you my quippe to HEDON, about the garter? was't not witty?

MOR.

Exceeding witty and integrate: you did so aggrauate the iest withall.

PHI.

And did I not dance mouingly the last night?

MOR.

Mouingly? out of measure (in troth) sweet charge.

MER.

A happy commendation, to dance out of measure.

MOR.

Saue only you wanted the swim i' the turne: Ô! when I was at fourteene—

PHI.

Nay, that's mine owne from any Nymph in the court (I am sure on't) therefore you mistake me in that, Guardian: both the swimme and the trip, are properly mine, euery body will affirme it, that has any iudge∣ment in dancing: I assure you.

PHA.

Come now, PHILAVTIA, I am for you, shall we goe?

PHI.

I, good PHANTASTE: What! haue you chang'd your head-tire?

PHA.

Yes faith, th'other was so neere the common: it had no extraor∣dinary grace; besides, I had worne it almost a day, in good troth.

PHI.

I'le bee sworne, this is most excellent for the deuice, and rare. 'Tis after the italian print, we look'd on t'other night.

PHA.

'Tis so: By this fanne, I cannot abide any thing that sauours the poore ouer-worne cut, that has any kindred with it; I must haue variety, I: this mixing in fashion I hate it worse, then to burne juniper in my cham∣ber, I protest.

PHI.

And yet we cannot haue a new peculiar court-tire, but these re∣tainers will haue it; these Suburbe-sunday-waiters; these courtiers for high dayes; I know not what I should call 'hem—

PHA.

O, I, they doe most pittifully imitate, but I haue a tire a com∣ming (yfaith) shall—

MOR.

In good certaine, Madam, it makes you looke most heauenly; but (lay your hand on your heart) you neuer skin'd a new beautie more prosperously in your life, nor more metaphysically: looke, good lady, sweet lady, looke.

PHI.

Tis very cleere, and well, beleeue me. But if you had seene mine yesterday, when t'was yong, you would haue— who's your Doctor, PHANTASTE?

PHA.

Nay, that's counsell, PHILAVTIA, you shall pardon mee: yet (I'le assure you) hee's the most daintie, sweet, absolute rare man of the whole colledge. O! his very lookes, his discourse, his behauiour, all hee doo's is physicke, I protest.

PHI.

For heauens sake, his name; good, deare PHANTASTE —

PHA.

No, no, no, no, no, no, (beleeue me) not for a million of hea∣uens: I will not make him cheape. Fie—

CVP.

There is a Nymph too, of a most curious and elaborate straine, light, all motion, an vbiquitarie, shee is euery where, PHANTASTE—

MER.

Her very name speakes her, let her passe. But are these (CV∣PID) the starres of CYNTHIAS court? doe these Nymphs attend vpon DIANA?

CVP.

They are in her court (MERCVRIE) but not as starres, these neuer come in the presence of CYNTHIA. The Nymphs that make her traine, are the diuine ARETE, TIME, PHRONESIS, THAVMA, and o∣thers of that high sort. These are priuately brought in by MORIA in this licentious time, against her knowledge: and (like so many meteors) will van••sh, when shee appeares.

Act II. Scene V.

PROSAITES, GELAIA, COS, MER∣CVRIE, CVPID.

SONG.

COme follow me, my wagges, and say as I say. There's no riches but in ragges; hey day, hey day. You that professe this arte, come away, come away, And helpe to beare a part. Hey day; hey day, &c.

MER.

What! those that were our fellow pages but now, so soone preferr'd to be yeomen of the bottles? the mysterie, the mysterie, good wagges?

CVP.

Some dyet-drinke, they haue the guard of.

PRO.

No, sir, we are going in quest of a strange fountayne, lately found out.

CVP.

By whom?

COS.

My master, or the great discouerer, AMORPHVS.

MER.

Thou hast well intitled him, COS, for hee will discouer all hee knowes.

GEL.

I, and a little more too, when the spirit is vpon him.

PRO.

O, the good trauailing gentleman yonder has caus'd such a drought i' the presence, with reporting the wonders of this new water▪ that all the ladies, and gallants, lie languishing vpon the rushes, like so many pounded cattle i' the midst of haruest, sighing one to another, and gasping, as if each of them expected a cocke from the fountayne, to bee brought into his mouth: and (without we returne quickly) they are all (as a youth would say) no better then a few trowts cast a-shore, or a dish of eeles in a sand-bagge.

MER.

Well then, you were best dispatch, and haue a care of them. Come, CVPID, thou and I'le goe peruse this drie wonder.