The fountaine of selfe-loue. Or Cynthias reuels As it hath beene sundry times priuately acted in the Black-Friers by the Children of her Maiesties Chappell. Written by Ben: Iohnson.

Actus Primus, (Book 1)

Scena prima.

Cupid. Mercurie.

WHo goes there?

Mer.

Tis I, blinde Archer.

Cup.

Who? Mercurie?

Mer.

I.

Cup.

Farewell.

Mer.

Stay Cupid.

Cup.

Not in your company Hermes, ex∣cept your hands were riueted at your backe.

Mer.

Why so my little Rouer?

Cup.

Because I know, you ha' not a finger, but is as long as my quiuer, (cousin Mercurie,) when you please to extend it.

Mer.

Whence deriue you this speach Boy?

Cup.

O! tis your best policie to be Ignorant: you did neuer steale Mars his sworde out of the sheath; you? nor Neptunes Trident; nor Apolloes Bowe; no, not you? Alasse your palmes (Iupiter knowes) they are as tender as the foote of a foundred Nag, or a Ladies face new Mercuried; theyle touch nothing.

Mer.

Go to (Infant) youle be daring still.

Cup.

Daring? O Ianus, what a word is there? why my light fether-heeld Cousse, what are you, any more then my vncle Ioues Pandar, a Lackey that runs on errands for him, and can whisper a light message to a loose wenche with some round volubility, waite at a table with a Trencher, and warble vpon a Crowde a little; One that sweepes the Gods drinking roome euery morning, and sets the Cushions in order againe which they threw one at anothers head ouernight? Heere's the Cata∣logue of all your Imploiments now. O no, I erre: you haue the Marshalling of all the Ghostes too, that passe the Stigian ferry; and I suspect you for a share with the olde Sculler there, if the truth were knowne; but let that scape: one other peculiar ver∣tue you possesse▪ in lifting or Lieger-du-maine (which few of the

house of Heauen haue else besides) I must confesse; But (me thinks) that should not make you set such an extream distance twixt your selfe and others, that we should be said too ouer∣dare in speaking to your nimble Deity: So Hercules might challenge a priority of vs both, because he can throw the Barre farther▪ or lift more Ioyndstooles at the armes end then we. If this might carry it; then we (who haue made the whole body of Diuinity tremble at the twange of our Bowe, and inforste Saturnius himselfe to lay•• by his curld front, Thunder, and three forkd-fiers, and put on a Masking sute, too light for a reueller of eighteene to be seene in—

Mercu.

How now my dancing Braggart in Decimo sexto? charme your skipping toung, or Ile—

Cup.

What? vse the vertue of your Snakie Tipstaffe there vpon vs?

Mer.

No Boy, but the stretcht vigor of mine arme about your eares; you haue forgot since I tooke your heeles vp into ayre, (on the very hower I was borne) in sight of all the benche of Deities, when the siluer roofe of the Olympian Pallace rung againe with the applause of the fact.

Cup.

O no, I remember it freshly, and by a particular in∣stance; for my mother Venus (at the same time) but stoupt to imbrace you, and (to speake by Metaphore) you borrowed a Girdle of hers, as you did Ioues Scepter (while he was laugh∣ing) and would haue doone his thunder too, but that, twas too hote for your itching fingers.

Mer.

Tis well sir.

Cup.

I heard you but lookt in at Vulcans Forge the other day, and intreated a paire of his newe Tongs along with you for company: Tis ioy on you (I faith) that you will keepe your hook'd tallons in practise with any thing. Slight, now you are on earth, we shall haue you filche Spoones and Candle∣sticks rather then faile: pray Ioue the perfum'd Courtiers keepe their Casting-bottles, Pick-toothes, and Shittle-cockes from you, or our more ordinary Gallants their Tabaco-boxes, for I am strangely iealous of your nayles.

Mer.

Nere trust me Cupid, but you are turnd a most acut•• gallant of late, the edge of my wit is cleere taken off with the fine and subtile stroake of your thin-ground toung, you fight with too poinant a phrase, for me to deale with.

Cup.

O Hermes, your craft cannot make me confident, I know my owne steele to be almost spent, and therefore intreate my peace with you in time: you are too cunning for me to in∣counter at length, and I thinke it my safest warde to close.

Mer.

Well for once, Ile suffer you to come within me wag, but vse not these straines too often, thei••e stretch my patience. Whether might you marche now?

Cup.

Faith (to recouer thy good thoughts) Ile discouer my whole proiect. The Huntresse and queene of these groues, Diana (in regarde of some black and ••nuious slaunders howerly breathd against her for her deuine iustice on Acteon as shee pretēds) hath here in the vale of Gargaphy proclaimd a solemne reuels, which she will grace with the full and royall expence of one of her cleerest moones: In which time it shall be lawfull for all sorts of ingenuous persons, to visit•• her pallace, to court her Nimphes, to exerci••e all varietie of generous and noble pa∣stimes, as well to intimate how farre she treads such malitious imputations beneath her, as also to shew how cleere her beau∣ties are from the least wrinckle of Austerity, they may be chardgd with.

Mer.

But what is all this to Cupid?

Cup.

Here do I meane to put off the title of a God, and take the habite of a Page, in which disguise (during the Interim of these reuels) I will get to follow some one of Dianas maides, where (if my bowe holde, and my shafts flye but with halfe the willingnesse and ayme they are directed) I doubt not but I shall really redeeme the minutes I haue lost by their so long and ouer-nice proscription of my Deity, from their court.

Mer.

Pursue it (druine Cupid) it will be rare.

Cup.

But will Hermes second me.

Mer.

I am now to put in act an especiall designement from ••y father Ioue, but that performd, I am for any fresh action

that offers it selfe.

Exit.

Cup.

Well then we part.

Mer.

Farewell good wag, Now to my charge, Eccho, faire Eccho speake, Tis Mercurie that calles thee; ••orrowfull Nimphe: Salute me with thy repercussi••e voyce, That I may know what cauerne of the earth, Containes thy ayery spirit: how, or where, I may direct my speech, that thou maist heare,

SCENA. 2.

Echo, Mercury.

Echo.

Here.

Mer.

So nigh.

Echo.

I.

Mer.

Know (gentle soule) then, I am sent from Iou••, Who (pittying the sad burthen of thy woes, Still growing on thee, in thy want of wordes▪ To vent thy passion for Narcissus death) Commaunds that now (after three thousand yeares, Which haue bin excercisde in Iunoes spight,) Thou take a corporall figure and ascend, Enricht with vocall, and articulate power, Make haste sad Nymph: thrise doth my winged rod, Strike th 'obsequious earth to giue thee way, Arise, and speake thy sorrowes, Eccho rise, Heere, by this Fountaine where thy loue did pine, Whose memory liues fresh to vulgar fame, Sh••in'd in this yellow flower, that beares his name

Ech.

His name reuiues and lifts me vp from earth.

Ascendit

O which way shall I first conuert my selfe? Or in what moode shall I assay to speake, That (in a moment) I may be deliuered, Of the prodigions griefe I go with all? Se••, see, the morning fount whose spring weepes yet,

Th'vntimely fate of that too-beauteous boy, That Trophaee of selfe loue, and spoile of nature, Who (now transformd into this drooping flower) Hangs the repentant head, back, from the streame; As if it wish'd: Would I had neuer lookt, In such a flattering mirror. O Narcissus, Thou that wast once (and yet art) my Narcissus, Had Eccho but beene priuate with thy thoughtes, She would haue dropt away her selfe in teares, Till she had all turn'd water; that in her, (As in a truer glasse) thou mighst haue gaz'd, And seene thy beauties by more kinde reflection: But Selfe loue neuer yet could looke on trueth, but with blear'd beames; Slieke flatterie and she: Are twin-borne sisters, and so mixe their eyes, As if you seuer one, the other dies. Why did the Gods giue thee a heauenly forme, And earthy thoughtes to make thee proude of it? Why do I aske? tis now the knowne disease That beautie hath, to beare to deepe a sence, Of her owne selfe-conceiued excellence. O hadst thou knowne the worth of heauens rich guift, Thou would'st haue turn'd it to a truer vse, And not (with leane and couetous ignorance) Pin'd in continuall eying that bright Gem, The glance whereof to others had bine more, Then to thy famisht minde the wide worldes store; " So wretched is it to be meerely ritch: Witnes thy youths deare sweetes, here spent vntasted; Like a faire Taper, with his owne flame wasted.

Mer.

Eccho be briefe, Saturnia is abroad; And if she heare, sheele storme at Ioues high will:

Eccho.

I will (kinde Mercury) be briefe as time, Vouchsafe me I may do him these last Rites, But kis••e his flower, and sing some mourning straine: Ouer his watry hearse.

Mer.

Thou dost obtaine, I were no sonne to loue shoulde I denie thee; Beginne, and (more to grace thy cunning voyce) The humourous ayre shall mixe her solemne tunes, With thy sad wordes: strike Musique from the spheares, And with your golden raptures swell our eares.

Cant.

SLow, Slow Fresh fount, keepe time with my salt teares; yet flower, yet, o faintly gentle springs; List to the heauy part the Musique beares, " Woe weepes out her diuision when she sings▪ Droope hearbes, and flowers, fall griefe in showers; " Our beauties are not ours: O I could still (Like melting snow vpon some craggy hill,) drop, drop, drop, drop, Since Natures pride, is now awither'd Daffadill.

Mer.

Now ha' you done?

Eccho.

Done presently (good Hermes) bide a little; Suffer my thirsty eye to gaze a while, But eene to tast the place, and I am vanisht:

Mer.

Forgoe thy vse and libertie of tongue, And thou maist dwell on earth, and sport thee there;

Eccho.

Here young Action ••ell, pursu'd, and torne By Cynthi••s wrath (more egar then his houndes;) And here, (ay me the place is fatall) see, The weeping Niobe, translated hether From P••rygian mountaines: and by Phaebe rear'd As the proude Trophaee of her sharpe reuenge.

Mer.

Nay but here▪

Ech.

But here, oh here, the Fountaine of selfe loue: In which Latona, and her carelesse Nimphes, (Regardles of my sorrowes) bath themselues, In hourely pleasures.

Mer.

Stint thy babling tongue; Fond Echo, thou prophanst the grace is done thee: So idle worldlings (meerely made of voyce:) Censure the powers aboue them. Come away, Ioue calls thee hence, and his will brookes no stay.

Ech.

O stay: I haue but one poore thought to clothe, In ayery garments and then (faith) I go: Henceforth, thou treacherous, and murthering spring, Be euer cald the Fountaine of selfe loue: And with thy water let this curse remaine, (As an inseperate plague) that who but tastes, A droppe thereof, may (with the instant touch) Grow dotingly enamour'd on themselues. Now Hermes I haue finish'd.

Mer.

Then thy speach, Must here forsake thee Echo, and thy voyce: (As it was wount) rebound but the last wordes, Fare well.

Echo.

Well.

Exit.

Now Cupid I am for you, and your mirth, To make me light before I leaue the earth.

SCENA. 3.

Amorphus. Echo. Mercury.

Amo.

Deare sparke of beauty make not so fast away:

Echo.

Away.

Mer.

Stay let me obserue this portent yet.

Amo.

I am neither your Minotaure, nor your Centaure, nor your Satyre, nor your Hyaena, nor your Babion, but your meere traueler, beleeue me:

Echo.

Leaue me.

Mer.

I gest it should be some trauelling Motion pursu'de Eccho so.

Amo.

Know you from whom you flye? or whence?

Echo.

Hence.

Exit.

Amo.

This is somewhat aboue strange: a Nimphe of her feature and ••ineament to be so preposterously rude; well; I will but coole my selfe at yon' Spring and follow her.

Mer.

Nay then I am familiar with the issue; Ile leaue you too.

Exit.

Amo.

I am a Rhinoceros, if I had thought a creature of her Symmetry would haue dard so improportionable and abrupte a digression. Liberall and deuine Founte, suffer my prophan•• hand to take of thy bounties. By the puritie of my taste, heere is most Ambrosiack water; I will sup of it againe. By thy fauor sweete Founte. See, the water (a more running, subtile, and hu∣morous Nimphe then shee) permits me to touche, and handle her: what should I inferre? If my behauiours had beene of a cheape, or customary garbe; my Accent, or phrase, vulgar; my Garmēts trite; my Countenance illiterate; or vnpractizd in the encounter of a beautifull and braue-attirde Peice, then I might (with some change of coullor) haue suspected my faculties: but (knowing my selfe an Essence so sublimated, and refin'de by Trauaile; of so studied, and well exercisde a gesture; so alone in fashion, able to make the face of any States-man liuing, and to speake the meere extraction of language; One that hath now made the sixth returne vpon venter; and was your first that euer enricht his countrey with the true laws of the Duello; whose Optiques haue drunke the spirit of beauty, in some eight score and eighteene Princes Courts, where I haue resi∣ded, and bin there fortunate in the Amours of three hundred, fortie, and fiue Ladies (all nobly discended) whose names I haue in Catalogue: to conclude; in all so happy, as euen Admiration her selfe dooth seeme to fasten her kisses vpon me: Certes I do neither see, nor feele, nor taste, nor fauor, the least steame, or fume of a reason, that should inuite this foolish fastidious

Nymph so peeuishly to abandon me: well let the memory of her fleete into Ayre; my thoughts and I am for this other Ele∣ment, water.

SCENA. 4.

Criticus. Asotus. Amorphus.

Crit.

What? the well-dieted Amorphus become a Water-drinker? I see he meanes not to write verses then.

Asot.

No Criticus? why?

Crit.

Quia nulla placere diu▪ nec viuere carmina possunt, quae scri∣buntur aquae po••oribus.

Amor.

What say you to your Helicon?

Crit.

O, the Muses, well! that's euer excepted.

Amor.

Sir, your Muses haue no such water I assure you; your Nectar, or the Iuice of your Nepenthe is nothing to it; tis aboue your Metheglin, beleeue it.

Asot.

Metheglin! what's that Sir? may I be so Audacious to demaund?

Amo.

A kinde of Greeke Wine I haue met with Sir in my Trauailes: it is the same that Demosthenes vsually drunke, in the composure of all his exquisite and Mellifluous Orations.

Crit.

That's to be argued, (Amorphus) if wee may credit Lucian, who in his (Enicomium Demosthenis) affirmes, he neuer drunke but water in any of his Compositions.

Amo.

Lucian is absurde, he knew nothing: I will beleeue my owne Trauels, before all the Lucians of Europe; he doth feed you with fictions, and leasings.

Crit.

Indeed (I thinke) next a Traueller he do's prettily well.

Amo.

I assure you it was Wine, I haue tasted it, and from the hand of an Italian Antiquary, who deriues it authentical∣ly from the Duke of Ferrara's Bottles. How name you the Gentleman you are in ranke with there, Sir?

Crit.

Tis Asotus, sonne to the late deceased Philargyrus the Cittizen.

Amorphus.

Was his Father of any eminent place, or meanes?

Crit.

He was to haue bin Praetor next yeare.

Amo.

Ha! A pretty formall young Gallant (in good soothe) pitty, hee is not more gentilely propagated. Heark•• you Criticus: you may say to him what I am, if you please; though I affect not popularity, yet I would be lothe to stand out to any, whome you shall voutchsafe to call friend.

Crit.

Sir, I feare I may doe wrong to your sufficiencies in the reporting them, by forgetting or misplacing some one; your selfe can best enforme him of your selfe Sir, except you had some Catalogue or Inuentory of your faculties readye drawne, which you would request me to shew him for you, and him to take notice of.

Amo.

This Criti••us is sower: I will thinke Sir.

Crit.

Doe so Sir. O heauen, that any thing (in the likenesse of man) should suffer these rackt extremities, for the vttring of his Sophisticate good parts.

Asot.

Criticus, I haue a sute to you; but you must not de∣nie me: pray you make this Gentleman and I friends.

Crit.

Friends! Why? is there any difference betweene you?

Asotus.

No: I meane acquaintance, to knowe one ano∣ther.

Crit.

O now I apprehend you; your phrase was without me before.

Asot.

In good faith hee's a most excellent rare man I warrant him.

Crit.

Slight, they are mutually enamor'd by this time.

Asot.

Will you sweete Criticus?

Crit.

Yes, yes.

Asot.

Nay, but when? youle deferre it now, and forget it?

Crit.

Why, ist a thing of such present necessity, that it re∣quires so violent a dispatch?

Asot.

No, but (would I might neuer stir) hee's a most rauish∣ing man; good Criticus you shall endeare me to you, in good faith law.

Crit.

Well your longing shalbe satisfied Sir.

Asot.

And withall, you may tell him what my father was, and how well he left me, and that I am his heire.

Crit.

Leaue it to me, Ile forget none of your deare graces I warrant you.

Asot,

Nay I know you can better marshall these affaires then I can.—O Gods il'e giue all the world (if I had it) for aboun∣dance of such acquaintance.

Crit.

What ridiculous circumstance might I deuise now, to bestow this reciprocall brace of Cockscombes, one vpon ano∣ther?

Amor.

Since I troad on this side the Alpes, I was not so fro∣zen in my inuention; let me see: to accost him with some choise remnant of Spanish, or Italian? that would indifferently ex∣presse my languages now, mary then, if he should fall out to be Ignorant, it were both hard, and harshe. How else? step into some discourse of S••ate, and so make my induction? that were aboue him too; and out of his element I feare Faine to haue seen him in Venice? or Padua? or some face neare his in simillitude? tis too pointed, and open▪ No; it must be a more queint, & col∣laterall deuise: As—stay; to frame some encomiastique speach vpon this our Metropolis, or the wise Magistrates thereof, in which pollitique number, tis ods but his father fild vp a rome? descend into a perticuler admiration of their Iustice; for the due measuring of Coales, burning of Cans, and such like? As also their religion, in pulling downe a superstitious Crosse, and ad∣uancing a Venus; or Priapus, in place of it? ha? twill do well. Or to talke of some Hospitall, whose walls record his father a BE∣NEFACTOR? or of so many Buckets bestowd on his parish church in his life time, with his name at length (for want of armes) trickt vpon them; Any of these? or to praise the cleanesse of the streete wherein he dwelt, or the prouident painting of his posts against he should haue beene Pretor, or (leauing his parent) come to some speciall ornament about him selfe, as his Rapier, or some other of his accoutrements? I haue it: Thankes gra••ious Minerua.

Asot.

Would I had but once spoke to him, and then—

Amor.

Tis a most curious and neatly-wrought band this same, as I haue seene Sir.

Asot.

O God Sir.

Amor.

You forgiue the humor of mine eye in obseruing it?

Asot.

O Lord Sir, there needs no such Apology I assure you.

Crit.

I am anticipated: theyle make a solemne deede of guift of themselues you shall see.

Amor

Your Rose too do's most grace-fully in troath.

Asot.

Tis the most gentile and receiu'd Weare now Sir.

Amor.

Beleeue me Sir (I speake it not to humour you) I haue not seene a young gentleman (generally) put on his cloathes with more iudgement.

Asot.

O, tis your pleasure to say so, Sir.

Amor.

No, as I am vertuous (being altogether vntrauel'd) it strikes me into wonder.

Asot.

I do purpose to trauell (Sir) at Spring:

Amor.

I thinke I shall affect you sir, this last speach of yours hath begun to make you deare to me.

Asot.

O God Sir, I would there were anything in me Sir, that might appeare worthy the least worthines of your woorth Sir, I protest Sir, I should endeuour to shew it Sir, with more then common regarde Sir.

Crit.

O heres rare Motley, Sir.

Amor.

Both your desert, and your endeuors are plentifull, suspect them not: but your sweete disposition to trauaile (I assure you) hath made you another My-selfe in mine eye, and strooke me enamour'd on your beauties.

Asot.

I would I were the fairest Lady of Fraunce for your sake Sir, and yet I would trauaile too.

Amor▪

O you should digresse from your selfe els: for (beleeue it) your Trauaile is your onely thing that rectifies, or (as the Ita∣lian sayes) virendi pronto all' Attioni, makes you fit for Action.

Asot.

I thinke it be great charge though Sir.

Amor.

Charge? why tis nothing for a gentleman that goes priuate, as your selfe, or so; my Intelligence shall quitt my

charge at all times: Good faith this Hat hath possest mine eye exceedingly; tis so prettie, and fantastique; what? ist a Beauer.

Asot.

I Sir. Ile assure you tis a Beauer, it cost me six crownes but this morning.

Amor.

A very prettie fashion (beleeue me) and a most nouel kinde of trimme: your Button is conceipted too.

Asot.

Sir, it is all at your seruice.

Amor.

O pardon me.

Asot.

I beseech you Sir, if you please to weare it you shall do me a most infinite grace.

Crit.

Slight, will he be praisde out of his cloathes?

Asot.

By heauen Sir, I do not offer it you after the Italian manner; I would you should conceiue so of me.

Amor.

Sir, I shall feare to appeare rude in denying your cur∣te••ies, especially being inuited by so proper a distinction; may I pray your name Sir.

Asot.

My name is Asotus Sir.

Amor.

I take your loue (gentle Asotus) but let me winne you to receiue this in exchange.—

Crit.

'Hart, theile change dublets anone.

Amor.

And (from this time) esteeme your selfe in the first ranke of those few whom I professe to loue; what make you in company of this scholle•• here? I will bring you knowne to gallants as Anaides, Hedon the courtier, and others, whose so∣cietie shall render you grac'de, and respected; this is atriuiall fellow, too meane, too coarse for you to conuerse with.

Asot.

Slid, this is not worth a crowne, and minecost me six but this morning.

Crit.

I lookt when he would repent him, he ha's beg••nne to be sad a good while.

Amor.

Sir, shall I say to you for that Hat? be not so sad, be not so sad; tis a Relique I could not so easily haue departed with, but as the Hierogliphick of my affection; you shall alter it to what forme you please, it will take any block; I haue varied it my selfe to the three thousandth time, and not so few: It hath these vertues beside; your head shall not ak•• vnder it; nor

your braine leaue you, without licence; It will preserue your comple••ion to eternitie; for no beame of the Sunne (should you weare it vnder Zona Torrida) hath force to approch it by two ells. Tis proofe against thunder, and enchantment: and was giuen me by a great man (in Russia) as an especially-priz'd present; and constantly affirm'd to be the hat that acompanied the politique Vlisses, in his tedious, and ten yeares Trauailes.

Asot.

By Ioue I will not depart withall, whosoeuer woulde giue me a Million.

SCENA. 5.

Cos. Prosaites. Criticus. Amorphus. Asotus.

Cos.

Saue you sweete bloods: do's any of you want a creature, or a dependant?

Crit.

Be-shrow me a fine blunt slaue.

Amor.

A page of good timber; it will now be my grace to entertaine him first, though I casheere him againe in priuate: how art thou call'd?

Cos.

Cos Sir, Cos.

Crit.

Cos? How happely hath Fortune furnisht him with a Whetstone?

Amor.

I do entertaine you Cos: conceale your quality till we be priuate; if your parts be worthy of me, I wil countenance you; if not, catechize you; Gentles shall we go?

Asot.

Stay Sir; ile but entertaine this other fellow, and then— I haue a great humour to tast of this water too, but ile come a∣gaine alone for that marke the place; whats your name, youth?

Pros.

Prosaites? Sir.

Asot.

Prosaites? A very fine name Criticus? ist not?

Crit.

Yes, and a very ancient Sir, the Begger;

Exeunt.

Asot.

Follow me good Prosaites: Lets talke.

Crit.

He will ranke euen with you (ere't be long) If you hold on your course: O vanity, How are thy painted beauties doated on,

By light, and empty Ideots? how pursu'de With open, and extended appetite? How they do sweate, and run themselues from breath, Raisd on their toes, to catch thy ayery formes, Still turning giddy, till they reele like drunkards, That buy the merry madnesse of one hower, With the long irksomnesse of following time? O how dispisde, and base a thing is Man, If he not striue t'erect his groueling thoughts Aboue the straine of flesh. 'But how more cheap•• When, euen his best and vnderstanding part, (The crowne, and strength of all his faculties) Floates like a dead drown'd body, on the streame Of vulgar humor, mixt with commonst dregs? I suffer for their guilt now, and my Soule (Like one that lookes on ill affected eyes) Is hurt with meere Intention on their follies: Why will I view them then? my Sence might aske me: Or ist a Rarity, or some new Obiect, That straines my strict obseruance to this point? O would it were, therein I could afforde My Spirit should draw a little neere to theirs, To gaze on nouelties: so Vice were one. Tut, she is stale, ranke, foule, and were it not That those (that wooe her) greete her with lockt eyes (In spight of all the Impostures, paintings, drugs, Which her bawde Custome daubes her cheekes withall) She would betray her loath'd and leprous face, And fright th'enamor'd dotards from themselues: But such is the peruersnesse of our nature, That if we once but fancy leuity, (How antique and ridiculous so ere It sute with vs) yet will our muffled thought Choose rather not to see it, then auoyde it: And if we can but banish our owne sence, We ac••e ou•• Mimick tricks with that free licence,

That lust, that pleasure, that security, As if we practiz'd in a Past-boord case, And no one saw the Motion, but the Motion. Well, check thy passion, least it grow too lowde: ••While fooles are pittied, they wax fat, and prowde.

Exit.

Finis Actus Primi.