Poems with the Muses looking-glasse: and Amyntas· By Thomas Randolph Master of Arts, and late fellow of Trinity Colledge in Cambridge.

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THE MVSES LOOKING-GLASSE.

ACTVS I.

SCEN. 1.

Enter Bird a Featherman, and M^rs Flowrdew wife to a Haber∣dasher of small wares; the one having brought feathers to the Play-house, the other Pins and Looking-glasses; two of the sanctified fraternity of Black-friers.

Flo.

SEe Brother how the wicked throng and crowd To works of Vanity! not a nooke, or corner In all this house of sin, this cave of filthinesse, This den of spirituall theeves, but it is stuff'd, Stuffed, and stuff'd full as is a cushion With the lew'd Reprobate.

Bird.

Sister, were there not before Innes, Yes I will say Inns, for my zeale bids me Say filthy Innes, enough to harbour such As travell'd to destruction the broad way;

But they 〈◊〉〈◊〉 more and more, more shops of Satan.

Flowrd.

〈◊〉〈◊〉 aboundeth, though pure zeale Teach, preach, huffe, puffe and snuffe at it, yet still Still it aboundeth. Had we seen a Church, A new built Church erected North and South, It had been something worth the wondring at.

Bird.

Good workes are done.

Flowrd.

I say no works are Good. Good works are meerely Popish and Apocryphall.

Bird.

But th'bad abound, surround, yea & confound us▪ No matveile now if Play-howses increase, For they are all grown so obscene of late That one begets another.

Flowerd.

Flat fornication! 〈◊〉〈◊〉 wonder any body takes delight To hear them prattle.

Bird.

Nay and I have heard That in a—Tragedy, I think they call it, They make no more of killing one another, Then you sell pinnes.

Flow.

Or you sell feathers brother. But are they not hang'd for it?

Bird.

Law growes partiall, And findes it but Chance-medly: And their Comedies Will abuse you, or me, or any body; We cannot put our monies to increase By lawfull Vsury, nor Breake in quiet, Nor put off our false wares, nor keep our wives Finer then others, but our Ghosts must walke Vpon their stages.

Flow.

Is not this flat conjureing, To make our Ghosts to walke ere we be dead?

Bird.

Thats nothing M^rs Flowrdew, they will play The Knave, the Foole, the Divell and all for mony.

Flow.

Impiety! O that men indued with reason Should have no more grace in them!

Bird.

Be there not other Vocations as thriving, and more honest? Bailies, Promooters, Iaylors, and Apparitours, Beadles, and Martialls men, the needfull instruments Of the Republique; but to make themselves Such monsters? for they are monsters, th'are monsters, Base, sinfull, shamelesse, ugly, vile, deform'd Pernitious monsters▪

Flow.

I have heard our Vicar Call Play-houses the Colledge•…•… of Transgression, Wherein the seven deadly sinnes are studied.

Bird.

Why then the City will in time be made An Vniversity of Iniquity. We dwell by Black-Friers Colledge, where I wonder How that prophane nest of pernitious Birds Dare roost themselves there in the midst of us, So many good and well disposed persons. O impudence!

Flow.

It was a zealous prayer I heard a Brother make, concerning Play-houses:

Bird.

For Charity what is it?

Flow.

That the Globe Wherein (quoth he) reigns a whole world of vice, Had been consum'd! The Phoenix burnt to Ashes.

The Fortune whipt for a blind whore: Blackfriers He wonders how it scapd demolishing I'th' time of reformation: lastly he wish'd The Bull might crosse the Thames to the Bear-garden, And there be soundly baited!

Bird.

A good prayer.

Flow.

Indeed it something pricks my Conscience, I come to sell 'em Pins and Looking-glasses.

Bird.

I have their custome too for all their feathers: 'Tis fit that we which are sincere Professors Should gain by Infidels.

SCE. 2.

Enter Roscius a Player.

M^r Roscius we have brought the things you spake for.

Rosc.

Why tis well.

Flow.

Pray sir what serve they for?

Rosc.

We use them in our Play.

Bird.

Are you a Player?

Rosc.

I am Sir, what of that?

Bird.

And is it lawfull? Good sister lets convert him, will you use So fond a calling?

Flow.

And so impious?

Bird.

So irreligious?

Flow.

So unwarrantable?

Bird.

Only to gain by vice?

Flow.

To live by sinne?

Rosc.

My spleene is up: And live not you by sinne?

Take away vanity and you both may break. What serves your lawfull trade of selling pins, But to joynt gew-gawes, and to knit together Gorgets, strips, neck-cloths, laces, ribbands, ruffs, And many other such like toyes as these, To make the Baby Pride a pretty Puppet?

And you sweet Featherman, whose ware though light Oreweighs your Conscience, what serves your Trade But to plume folly, to give Pride her wings, To deck vain-glory? spoiling the Peacocks tayle T'adorne an Idiots Coxcombe! O dull ignorance! How ill 'tis understood what we doe meane For good and honest! They abuse our Scene, And say we live by vice: Indeed tis true As the Physitians by diseases doe, Only to cure them: They doe live we see Like Cookes by pamp'ring prodigality, Which are our fond accusers. On the stage We set an Vsurer to tell this age How ugly looks his soule: A prodigall Is taught by us how farre from liberall His folly bears him: Boldly I dare say There has been more by us in some one Play Laugh't into wit and vertue, then hath been By twenty tedious Lectures drawn from sinne And foppish humours; Hence the cause doth rise Men are not wonn by th'eares so well as eyes. First see what we present.

Flow.

The sight is able To unsanctify our eyes, and make 'em Carnall.

Rosc.

Will you condemne without examination?

Bird.

No Sister, let us call up all our zeale, And try the strength of this temptation: Satan shall see we dare defie his Engines.

Flow.

I am content.

Rosc.

Then take your places here, I will come to you And moralize the plot.

Flow.

That moralizing I doe approve, it may be for instruction.

SCE. 3.

Enter a deformed fellow.

Defor.

Roscius, I heare you have a new Play to day.

Rosci.

We want not you to play Mephostopholis. A pretty naturall vizard!

Defor.

What have you there?

Rosci.

A Looking-glasse, or two.

Defor.

What things are they? Pray let me see them. Heaven, what sights are here! I a've seene a Divell. Looking-glasses call you them? There is no basilisque but a Looking-glasse.

Rosci.

Tis your own face you saw.

Defor.

My own? thou liest: I'de not be such a Monster for the world.

Rosci.

Look in it now with me, what •…•…eest thou now?

Defor.

An Angell and a Divell.

Rosci.

Look on that Thou callst an Angell, mark it well, and tell me, Is it not like my face?

Defor.

As twere the same.

Rosci.

Why so is that like thine. Dost thou not see, 'Tis not the glasse but thy deformitie That makes this ugly shape; if they be fayre That view the Glasse such the reflections are. This serves the body: The soule sees her face In Comedy, and has no other Glasse.

Defor.

Nay then farewell, for I had rather see Hell then a Looking-glasse or Comedie.

Exit Defor.

Rosci.

And yet me thinks if 'twere not for this Glasse, Wherein the forme of man beholds his grace, We could not find another way to see How neere our shapes approach Divinitie. Ladies, let they who will your glasse deride, And say it is an Instrument of Pride: I will commend you for it; there you see If yee be fayre, how truly fayre yeebee: Where finding beauteous faces, I doe know You'l have the greater care to keepe them so. A heavenly vision in your beauty lyes, Which nature hath denied to your own eyes; Were it not pitty you alone should bee Debarr'd of that others are blest to see? Then take your glasses, and your selves enjoy The benefit of your selves; it is no toy, Though ignorance at slight esteeme hath set her, That will preserve us good or make us better. A Country slut, (for such she was, though here Ith City may be some as well as there:)

Kept her hands clean, (for those being alwaies seene Had told her else how sluttish she had beene) But •…•…ad her face as nasty as the stall Of a fishmonger, or a Vsurers Hall Daub'd o•…•…e with dirt: One might have dar'd to say She was a true peice of Prometheus clay, Not yet inform'd: And then her unkemb'd haire Drest up with cobwebs, made her hag-like stare. One day within her paile (for Country Lasses (Faire Ladies) have no other Looking-glasses:). She spied her uglinesse, and faine she would Have blusht if through so much dirt she could: Asham'd, within that water, that I say Which shew'd her filth, she wash'd her filth away.

So Comedies, as Poets doe intend them, Serve first to shew our faults and then to mend them▪

Vpon our Stage two glasses oft there be, The Comick Mirrour and the Tragedie: The Comick glasse is full of merry strife, The low reflection of a Country life. Grave Tragedy void of such homely sports Is the sad glasse of Cities and of Courts. I'le shew you both, Thalia come and bring Thy Buskin'd sister, that of Bloud doth •…•…ing▪

SCE. 4.

• Comedy.
• Tragedy.
• Mime.
• Satyre.

Comed.

Why doe you stop? goe on.

Trag.

I charge him stay.

My robe of state, Buskins, and Crown of Gold Claime a priority.

Come.

Your Crown of Gold Is but the wreath of wealth; 'Tis mine of Lawrell Is vertues Diadem: This grew greene and flourish'd, When nature pittying poore mortalitie, Hid thine within the bowells of the earth: Men looking up to heaven found this thats mine, Digging to find out hell they li't on thine.

Trage.

I know you'have tongue enough.

Come.

Besides my Birth-right Gives me the first possession.

Trag.

How, your Birth-right?

Come.

Yes sister, Birth-right: and a Crown besides, Put on before the Altar of Apollo By his deare Priest Phenomoe, she that first Full of her God rag'd in Heroique numbers.

Trag.

How came it then the magistrate decreed A publique charge to furnish out my Chorus, When you were faine t' appeare in rags and tatters, And at your own expences?

Come.

My reward Came after, my deserts went before yours.

Trag.

Deserts? yes! what deserts, when like a gypsie You took a poor and begga•…•…ly Pilgrimage From village unto village; when I then As a fit ceremony of Religion In my full state contended at the Tombe Of mighty Theseus.

Come.

I before that time

Did chaunt out Hymnes in praise of great Apollo The shepheards Deitie, whom they reverence Vnder the name of Nomius, in remembrance How with them once he kept Admetus sheep. And 'cause you urge my poverty, what were you? Till Sophocles laid guilt upon your Buskins You had no ornaments, no robes of state, No rich and glorious Scene; your first Benefactours Who were they, but the reeling Preists of Bacchus; For which a Goat gave you reward and name?

Trag.

But sister who were yours, I pray, but such As chaunted forth religious, bawdy sonnets, In honour of the fine chast God Priapus?

Come.

Let age alone, merit must plead our Title.

Trag.

And have you then the forehead to contend? I stalk in Princes Courts, great Kings, and Emperours▪ From their close cabinets, and Councell Tables Yeild me the fatall matter of my Scene.

Come.

Inferiour persons, and the lighter vanities, (Of which this age I feare is grown too fruitfull,) Yeild subjects various enough to move Plentifull laughter.

Trag.

Laughter! a fit object For Poetry to ayme at.

Come.

Yes, Laughter is my object: tis a propertie In man essentiall to his reason.

Trag.

So; But I move horrour; and that frights the guilty From his deare sinnes: he that sees Oedipus Incestuous, shall behold him blind withall. Who views Orestes as a Parricide,

Shall see him lash'd with Furies too; Th' Ambitious Shall feare Prometheus Vultur; Daring Gluttony Stand frighted at the sight of Tantalus: And every Family great in sinnes as Blood Shake at the memory of Pelops house. Who will relye on Fortunes giddy smile That hath seene Priam acted on the stage!

Com.

You move with fear, I work as much with shame, A thing more powerfull in a generous brest. Who sees an eating Parasite abus'd; A covetous Bawd laugh'd at; an ignorant Gull Cheated; a glorious Souldier knockt, and baflle'd; A crafty servant whipt; a niggard Churle Hoarding up dicing-monies for his sonne; A spruce fantastique Courtier, a mad roarer, A jealous Tradesman, an over-weening Lady, Or corrupt Lawyer rightly personated, But (if he have a blush), will blush and shame As well to act those follies as to owne them.

Trag.

The subject of my Scene is in the persons Greater, as in the vices; Atheists, Tyrants, O'redaring Favorites, Traytours, Parasites, The Wolves and Cats of state, which in a language High as the men, and loud as are their crimes I thunder forth with terrour and amazement Vnto the gastly wondring Audience.

Satyre.

And as my Lady takes deserved place Of thy light Mistresse, so yeild thou to me, Fantastique Mime.

Mime.

Fond Satyre why to thee?

Sat.

As the Attendant of the nobler Dame, And of my selfe more worthy.

Mime.

How more worthy?

Sat.

As one whose whip of steele can with a lash Imprint the Characters of shame so deepe, Even in the brazen forehead of proud sinne, That not eternity shall weare it out. When I but frown'd in my Lucilius brow, Each conscious cheek grew red, and a cold trembling Freez'd the chill soule; while every guilty brest Stood fearfull of dissection, as afraid To be anatomiz'd by that skilfull hand, And have each artery, nerve, and veine of sinne By it laid open to the publique skorne. I have untruss'd the proudest, greatest tyrants Have quak'd below my powerfull whip, halfe dead With expectation of the smarting jerke, Whose wound no salve can cure: each blow doth leave A lasting scar, that with a poison eates Into the marrow of their fames and lives; Th'eternall ulcer to their memories! What can your Apish-fine-gesticulations My manlike-Munkye Mime, vie downe to this?

Mime.

When men through sinnes were grown unlike the Gods, Apes grew to be like men; therefore I think My Apish imitation, Brother Beadle, Does as good service to reforme bad manners As your proud whip, with all his ferkes, and jerkes.

The Spartans when they strove t'expresse the loath∣somnesse

Of Drunkennesse to their Children, brought a slave, Some captive, Helot, overcharg'd with wine Reeling in thus;—His eyes shot out with staring, A fire in his nose, a burning rednesse Blazing in either cheeke, his haire upright, His tongue and senses faltring, and his stomack Oreburden'd ready to discharge her load In each mans face he met. This made'em se•…•… And hate that sinne of swine, and not of men. Would I expresse a complementall youth, That thinks himselfe a spruce and expert Courtier, Bending his supple hams, kissing his hands, Honouring shoo-strings, s•…•…uing his writh'd face To severall postures of affection, Dancing an entertainment to his friend, Who would not think it a ridiculous motion? Yet such there be that very much please themselves In such like Antique humours. To out own sin•…•…s We will be Moles, even to the grossest of 'em, But in anothers life we can spye forth The least of faults, with eyes as sharpe as eagles, Or the Epidaurean serpent: Now in me, Where selfe-love casts not her Aegyptian mists, They find this mis-becoming •…•…oppishnesse, And afterwards apply it to themselves: This (Satyre) is the use of Mimique Elves.

Trage.

Sister let's lay this poore contention by, And friendly live together; if one wombe Could hold us both, why should we think this roome Too narrow to containe us? On this stage

Weele plead a tryall; and in one year contend Which shall doe best, that past, she then that shall By the most sacred and impartiall judgment Of our Apollo, best deserve the Bayes, Shall hold the entire possession of the place.

Come.

I were unworthy if I should Appeale from his tribunall; Be it so: I doubt not but his censure runs with me: Never may any thing that's sad and tragicall Dare to approach his Presence; let him be So happy as to think no man is wretched, Or that there is a thing call'd miserie.

Trag.

Such is my praier, that he may only see. Not be the subject of a Tragedie! Sister, a truce till then; that vice may bleed Let us joyne whips together.

Come.

'Tis agreed. Mime, let it be your office to prepare The Masque which we intended:

Mime.

'Tis my care.

Exeunt.

Flow.

How did she say? a Masse? Brother fly hence, Fly hence, Idolatry will overtake us.

Rosci.

It was a Masque she spake of, a rude Dance Presented by the seven deadly sinnes.

Bird.

Still 'tis a Masse, sister, away, I tell you It is a masse, a masse, a masse of vile Idolatry.

Rosci.

'Tis but a simple Dance, brought in to shew The native fowl•…•…esse and deformitie

Of our deare finne, and what an ugly guest He entertaines, admits him to his B•…•…est!

Song and Dance.

Say, in a Dance how shall we goe, That never could a measure knowe! How shall we sing to please the Scene That never yet could keepe a meane? Disorder is the Masque we bring, And Discords are the Tunes we sing. No sound in our harsh eares can find a place But highest Trebles, or the lowest Base.

Flow.

See Brother, if mens hearts and Consciences Had not been sear'd, and cauterized, how could they Affect these filthy harbingers of hell! These Procters of Belzebub, Lucifers Hinch-boyes!

Rosci.

I pray yee stirre your selves within a while.

Exeunt.

Roscius Solus.

And here, unlesse your favourable mildnesse With hope of mercy doe encourage us, Our Author bids us end: he dares not venture Neither what's past, nor that which is to come Vpon his Country, 'tis so weake, and impotent It cannot stand a triall, nor dares hope The benefit of his Cleargy; But if rigour Sit Iudge, must of necessity be condemn'd

To Vulcan or the Spunge: All he can plead Is a desire of Pardon; for he brings you No plot at all, but a meere Olla Podrida, A medly of ill-plac'd, and worse pen'd humours. His desire was in single Scenes to shew How Comedy presents each single vice Ridiculous, whose number as their Character He borrowes from the man to whom he owes All the poore skill he has, great Aristotle. Now if you can endure to heare the rest, Y'are welcome; if you cannot, doe but tell Your meaning by some signe, and all farewell. If you will stay resolve to pardon first; Our Author will deserve it by offending. Yet if he misse a Pardon, as in Iustice You cannot grant it, though your mercy may, Still he hath this left for a comfort to him, That he picks forth a subject of his Rime May loose perchance his credit, not his time.

Exit.

Finis Actus 1.

ACTVS 2.

SCENA I.

• Roscius.
• Bird.
• Flowrdew.

Rosc.

REceive your places. The first that we present are the Extreams of a vertue necessary in our Conversation, call'd Comitas or Courtesy, which, as all other vertues, hath her deviations from the Mean. The one Colax, that to seeme over Courteous falls into a servile flattery, the other (as fooles fall into the con∣traries

which they shunne) is Dyscolus, who hating to bee a slavish Parasite growes into peevishnesse and impertinent distast.

Flow.

I thought you taught two vices for one vertue!

Rosci.

So does Philosophy, but the Actors enter.

• Colax.
• Dyscolus.

Colax.

How farre they sinne against humanity That use you thus! Believe me 'tis a Symptom Of Barbarisme, and rudenesse so to vexe A gentle, modest nature as yours is.

Dysco.

Why dost thou vexe methen?

Colax.

I? Heaven defend! My breeding has been better; I vexe you? You that I know so vertuous, just, and wise, So pious and religious, so admir'd So lov'd of all?

Dysc.

Wilt thou not leave me then Eternall Torture? could your cruelty find No back but mine that you thought broad enough To beare the load of all these Epithites? Pious? Religious? he takes me for a foole. Vertuous? and Iust? Sir, did I ever cheat you, Cozen, or gull you; that you call me just And vertuous? I am grown the common scoff Of all the world; the scoff of all the world.

Colax.

The world is grown too vile then.

Dysc.

So art thou. Heaven! I am •…•…un'd ridiculous!

Colax.

You ridiculous? But 'tis as impious Age; There was a time,

(And pitty 'tis so good a time had wings To fly away,) when reverence was payd To a gray head; 'twas held a sacriledge Not expiable to deny respect To one, Sir, of your years and Gravity.

Dysc.

My yeares and gravity! Why how ol d am I? I am not rotten yet, or grown so ranke As I should smell oth'grave: O Times and manners! Well Colax, well; goe on: you may abuse me, Poore dust, and ashes, wormes meat, yeares & gravity: He takes me for a Carkasse! what see you So crazy in me? I have halfe my Teeth: I see with spectacles, doe I not? and can walke too With th' benefit of my staffe: marke if I cannot!— But you sir at your pleasure with years and gravity Think me decrepit.

Colax.

How? Decrepit sir! I see young roses bud within your cheeks; And a quick active blood run free and fresh Through your veines.

Dysco.

I am turn'd boy again! A very stripling schooleboy! have I not The Itch and kibes? am I not scabb'd and mangy About the wrists and hams?

Colax.

Still Dyscolus▪

Dysc.

Dyscolus! and why Dyscolus? when were we Grown so familiar? Dyscolus! by my name Sure we are Pylades and Orestes! are we not? Speak good Pylades.

Colax.

Nay worthy Sir

Pardon my error, 'twas without intent Of an offence. Ile finde some other name To call you by—

Dysc.

What doe you mean to call mee? Foole? Asse? or Knave? my name is not so bad As that I am asham'd on't.

Colax.

Still you take all worse then it was meant, You are too Iealous.

Dysco.

Iealous? I ha'not cause for't: my wifes honest; Dost see my hornes? Doest? if thou doest, Write Cuckold in my forehead; doe, write Cuckold With Aqua-fortis, doe. Iealous! I am jealous▪ Free of the Company! wife, I am jealous.

Colax.

I mean suspitious.

Dysc.

How, suspitious? For what? for Treason, Felony, or Murder? Carry me to the Iustice: bind me over For a suspitious person▪ hang me too For a suspicious person▪ O, O, O Some courteous plague ceazeme, and free my soule From this immortall Torment! every thing I meet with, is vexation, and this, this Is the vexation of vexations, The Hell of Hells, and Divell of all Divells.

Flow.

For pitty sake fret not the good old Gentleman.

Dysc.

O! have I not yet torments great enough, But you must adde to my affliction? Eternall silence ceaze you!

Colax.

Sir we strive To please you, but you still misconstrue us.

Dysc.

I must be pleas'd! a very babe, an infant! I must be pleas'd! give me some pappe, or plummes: Buy me a rattle, or a hobby-horse, To still me, doe! be pleas'd? wouldst have me get A Parasite to be flatter'd?

Col.

How? a Parasite? A cogging, flatt'ring, slavish Parasite? Things I abhorre and hate. Tis not the belly Shall make my brains a captive. Flatterers! Soules below reason will not stoope so low As to give up their Liberty; only flatterers Move by anothers wheele. They have no passions Free to themselves. All their affections, Qualities, humors, appetites, desires, Nay wishes, vowes, and prayers, discourse & thoughts Are but anothers Bondman. Let me tugg At the Turkes Gallies; be eternally Damn'd to a Quarry: In this state my minde Is free: A flatterer has nor soule nor body What shall I say?—No I applaud your temper, That in a generous bravenesse take distast At such whose servile nature strives to please you. Tis royall in you Sir.

Dysc.

Ha! Whats that?

Colax.

A feather stuck upon your cloak.

Dysc.

A feather! And what have you to doe with my feathers? Why should you hinder me from telling th'world I doe not lye on flockbeds?

Colax.

Pray be pleas'd.

I brusht it off for meere respect I bare you.

Dysc.

Respect! a fine respect, Sir, is it not, To make the world believe I nourish vermine? O death, death, death, if that our graves hatch wormes Without tongues to torment us, let 'um have What teeth they will. I meet not here an object But adds to my affliction! Sure I am not A man; I could not then be so ridiculous: My eares are overgrown, I am an Asse; It is my eares they gaze at. What strange Harpy Centaure, or Gorgon am I turn'd into? What Circe wrought my Metamorphosis? If I be beast, she might haue made me Lyon, Or something not ridiculous! O Acteon, If I doe branch like thee, it is my fortune! Why look they on me else? There is with in A Glasse they say, that has strange qualities in it; That shall resolve me. I will in to see Whether or no I man or Monster be.

Exit.

SCEN. II,

To them Deilus, Aphobus.

Bird.

Who be these? They look like Presumption and Despaire.

Rosc.

And such they are. That is Aphobius, one that out of an impious confidence fears nothing. The other Deilus, that from an Atheisticall distrust, shakes at the motion of a reed. These are the Extreams of Fortitude, that steeres an even course between over much dar•…•…ing, and overmuch fearing.

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Flowr.

Why stayes this reprobate Colax?

Rosc.

Any vice Yeelds work for Flattery.

Flow.

A good Doctrine marke it.

Deilus.

Is it possible? did you not fear it, say you? To me the meere relation is anague. Good Aphobus no more such terrible stories; I would not for a world lye alone to night: I shall have such strange dreames!

Apho.

What can there be That I should fear? The Gods? If they be good, Tis sin to fear them; if not good, no Gods, And then let them fear me. Or are they Divells That must affright me?

Deilus.

Diuells! where good Aphobus? I thought there was some conjureing abroad. Tis such a terrible wind! O here it is; Now it is here again! O still, still, still!

Apho.

Whats the matter?

Deilus.

Still it followes me! The thing in black, behind; soone as the Sun But shines, it haunts mee! Gentle spirit leave mee! Cannot you lay him Aphobus? what an ugly looks it has! With eyes as big as sawcers, nostrills wider Then Barbers basons!

Apho.

Tis nothing Deilus But your weak Phancy, that from every object Drawes arguments of fear. This terrible black thing—

Deil.

Wher is it Aphobus?

Apho.

—Is but your shadow Deilus.

Deil.

And should not we fear shadowes?

Apho.

No! why should we?

Deil.

Who knows but they come learing after us To steale away the substance? Watch him Aphobus.

Apho.

I nothing fear.

Colax.

I doe commend your valour, That fixes your great soule fast as a Center, Not to be mov'd with dangers, let slight cock-boats Be shaken with a wave, while you stand firme Like an undaunted rock, whose constant hardnesse Rebeats the fury of the raging Sea, Dashing it into froth. Base fear doth argue A low degenerate soule.

Deil.

Now I fear every thing.

Colax.

Tis your discretion. Every thing has danger, And therefore every thing is to be feared. I doe applaud this wisdome: Tis a symptome Of wary providence. His too confident rashnesse Argues a stupid ignorance in the soule, A blind and senselesse judgement; give me feare To man the fort, 'tis such a circumspect And wary sentinell▪

Flow.

Now shame take thee for A Luke warme formalist.

Colax.

—But daring valour Vncapable of danger sleepes securely, And leaves an open entrance to his enemies.

Deil.

What are they landed?

Apho.

Who?

Deil.

The enemies.

That Colax talkes of.

Apho.

If they be I care not. Though they be Gyants all, and arm'd with thunder.

Deil.

Why doe you not fear Thunder?

Apho.

Thunder? no! No more then squibs and crackers.

Deil.

Squibs and crackers? I hope there be none here! slid, squibs and crackers! The meere Epitomies of the Gun-powder Treason, Faux in a lesser volume.

Apho.

Let fooles gaze At bearded starres, it is all one to mee As if they had been shav'd—thus, thus would I Out-beard a Meteour, for I might as well Name it a prodigy when my candle blazes. Deil. Is there a Comet say you? Nay I saw it, It reach'd from Pauls to Charing, and portends Some certain imminent danger to th' inhabitants Twixt those two places: I'le goe get a lodging Out of its Influence.

Colax.

Will that serve?—I feare It threatens generall ruine to the Kingdome.

Deil.

I'le to some other Country.

Colax.

There's danger too to crosse the Seas.

Deil.

Is there no way, good Colax, To crosse the Sea by Land? O the scituation! The horrible scituation of an Island

Colax.

You sir are farre above such frivolons thoughts. You fear not death.

Apho.

Not I.

Col.

Not sudden death.

Apho.

No more then sudden sleepes: Sir I dare dye.

Deil.

I dare not; Death to me is terrible: I will not dye.

Apho.

How can you Sir prevent it?

Deil.

Why I will kill my selfe.

Col.

A valiant course; And the right way to prevent death indeed. Your spirit is true Roman!—But yours greater That fear not death, nor yet the manner of it, Should Heaven fall—

Apho.

Why then we should have Larkes.

Deil.

I shall never eate Larkes again while I breath.

Col.

Or should the earth yawn like a sepulcher, And with an open throat swallow you quick?

Apho.

T'would save me the expences of a grave.

Deil.

I'had rather trouble my Exequutors by 'the half.

Apho.

Canons to me are pot-guns.

Deil.

Potguns to me Are Canons; the report will strike me dead.

Apho.

A rapier's but a bodkin.

Deil.

And a bodkin. Is a most dangerous weapon; since I read Of Iulius Cesars death, I durst not venture Into a Tailors shop for fear of Bodkins.

Apho.

O that the valiant Gyants would again Rebell against the Gods, and besiege Heaven, So I might be their leader.

Col.

Had Enceladus Been halfe so valiant, Iove had been his prisoner.

Apho.

Why should we think there be such things as dangers? Scylla, Charybdis, Python are but fables. Medeas Bull, and Dragon very tales. Se•…•… monsters, serpents, all Poeticall figments. Nay Hell it selfe, and Acheron meere inventions. Or were they true, as they are false, should I be So timorous as to fear these Bugbeare Harpyes, Medusa's, Centaurs, Gorgons?

Deill.

O good Aphobus. Leave conjuring, or take me into th' circle. What shall I doe good Colax?

Col.

Sir walke in, There is they say a Looking-glasse, a strange one Of admirable vertues, that will render you Free from inchantments.

Dei.

How a Looking-glasse? Dost think I can endure it? why there lies A man within't in ambush to entrap me. I did but lift my hand up, and he presently Catcht at it.

Colax.

'Twas the shadow Sir of your selfe. Trust me a meere reflection.

Deil.

I will trust thee.

Exit.

Apho.

What Glasse is that?

Colax.

A trick to fright the Idiot Out of his wits, a glasse so full of dread Rendring unto the eye such horrid spectacles As would amaze even you. Sir I doe think Your optick nerves would shrink in the beholding▪

This if your eye endure, I will confesse you The Prince of Eagles.

Apho.

Look to it eyes, if yee refuse this sight, My nayles shall damne you to eternall night.

Exit.

Col.

Seing no hope of gain, I pack them hence, 'Tis gold gives flattery all her Eloquence.

SCEN. 3.

• Acolastus
• Anaisthetus.

Rosci.

Temperance is the mediocrity of inioying plea∣sures, when they are present, and a moderate desire of them being absent; And these are the extreames of that vertue. Acolastus a voluptuous Epicure, that out of an immode∣rate, and untam'd desire seekes after all pleasures promis∣cuously, without respect of honest or lawfull. The other Anaisthetus a meere Anchorite that delights in nothing, not in those legitimate recreations allow'd of by God and nature.

Acolast.

O now for an eternity of eating! Foole was he that wish'd but a cranes short neck. Give me one, nature, long as is a Cable, Or sounding line, and all the way a palate To •…•…ast my meate the longer. I would have My senses feast together, Nature envied us In giving single pleasures; let me have My eares, eyes, palate, nose, and touch, at once Injoy their happinesse; lay me in a bed Made of a summers cloud; to my embraces

Give me a Venus hardly yet fifteene, Fresh, plump, and active; she that Mars enjoy'd Is grown too stale: And then at the same instant My Touch is pleas'd, I would delight my sight With Pictures of Diana, and her Nymphs, Naked, and bathing drawn by some Apelles; By them some of our fairest Virgins stand; That I may see whether 'tis Art or nature Which heightens most my blood and appetite. Nor cease I here. Give me the seven Orbes To charme my eares with their coelestiall lutes, To which the Angells that doe move those spheares Shall sing some amorous ditty; nor yet here Fixe I my bounds; The sunne himselfe shall fire The Phoenix nest to make me a perfume, While I doe eate the Bird, and eternally Quaffe of eternall Nectar. These single, are But torments, but together; O together! Each is a Paradice. Having got such objects To please the senses, give me senses too Fit to receive those objects: Give me therefore An Eagles eye, a blood-hounds curious smell, A staggs quick hearing, let my feeling be As subtle as the spiders, and my tast Sharpe as a Squirrils. Then I'le reade the Alcoran, And what delights that promises in future I'le practise in the present.

Bird,

Heathenish Glutton!

Flow.

Base belly-God, licentious Libertine!

Anai.

And I doe think there is no pleasure at all

But in contemning pleasures; Happy Niobe And blessed Daphne, and all such as are Turn'd stocks and stones: would I were Lawrell too, Or marble, I, or any thing insensible. It is a toyle for me to eate or drink, Only for natures satisfaction; Would I could live without it. To my eare Musique is but a mandrake. To my smell Nard sents of rue, and wormwood; And I tast Nectar with as much loathing, and distast As Gall, or aloes, or my Doctors potion. My eye can meete no object but I hate it.

Acola.

Come Brother Stoique be not so melancholy.

Anai.

Be not so foolish Brother Epicure.

Aco.

Come wee'le goe see a Comedy, that will raise Thy heavy spirits up.

Anai.

A Comedy? Sure I delight much in those toyes; I can With as much patience heare the Marriners Chide in a storme.

Aco.

Then lets goe drinke a while.

Anai.

'Tis too much Labour; Happy Tantalus That never drinks.

Aco.

A little Venery Shall recreate thy soule.

Ana.

Yes like an itch, For 'tis no better, I could wish an heire; But that I cannot take the paines to get one.

Aco.

Why, marry, if your conscience be so tender, As not to doe it otherwise; Then 'tis lawfull.

Ana.

True Matrimony's nothing else indeed But fornication licens'd, lawfull Adultery. O Heavens! how all my senses are wide sluces To let in discontent and miseries! How happy are the moles that have no eyes; How blest the Adders that they have no eares. They neither see, nor heare ought that afflicts them. But happier they that have no sence all; That neither see, nor heare, tast, smell, nor feele Any thing to torment them: soules were given To torture Bodyes, man has reason too To adde unto the heape of his distractions. I can see nothing without sense, and motion, But I doe wish my selfe transform'd into it.

Colax.

Sir I cōmend this temperance; your arm'd soule Is able to contemne these petty baits, These slight temptations, which we title pleasures; That are indeed but names; He'ven it selfe knows No such like thing; the starres nor eate, nor drink, Nor lye with one another; and you imitate Those glorious bodies, by which noble abstinence You gaine the names of moderate, chast, and sober; While this effeminate gets the infamous termes Of Glutton, Drunkard, and Adulterer; Pleasures, that are not mans, as man is man, But as his nature sympathies with beasts. You shall be the third Cato. This grave look And rigid eyebrow will become a censor. But I will fit you with an object Sir, My noble Anaisthetus that will please you.

It is a Looking-glasse, wherein at once You may see all the dismall groves and caves, The horrid vaults, darke cells, and barren deserts, With what in Hell it selfe can dismall be.

Anais.

That is indeed a Prospect fit for mee.

Exit.

Acol.

He cannot see a stock or stone, but presently He wishes to be turn'd to one of those. I have another humor, I cannot see A fat voluptuous sow with full delight Wallow in dirt, but I doe wish my selfe Transform'd into that blessed Epicure. Or when I view the hot salacious sparrow Renew his pleasures with fresh appetite, I wish my selfe that litle bird of Love.

Colax.

It shewes you a man of a soft moving clay, Not made of flint; Nature has been bountifull To provide pleasures, and shall wee be niggards At plenteous boards? He's a discourteous guest That will observe a diet at a feast. When Nature thought the earth alone too litle To find us meat, and therefore stor'd the aire With winged creatures, not contented yet Shee made the water fruitfull to delight us. Nay I believe the other Element too Doth nurse some curious dainty for mans food, If we would use the skill to catch the Salamander: Did she doe this to have us eat with temperance? Or when she gave so many different Odors Of spices, unguents, and all sorts of flowers, Shee cry'd not—stop your noses: would she give us

So sweet a quire of wing'd Musitians To have us deafe? or when shee plac'd us here, Here in a Paradice, where such pleasing prospects So many ravishing colours entice the eye, Was it to have us winke? when she bestow'd So powrefull faces, such commanding beauties On many glorious Nymphs, was it to say Be chast and continent? Not to enjoy All pleasures, and at full, were to make nature Guilty of that she nere was guilty of, A vanity in her works.

Acol.

A learned Lecture! Tis fit such grave and solid arguments Have their reward—here—halfe of my estate T'invent a pleasure never tasted yet, That I may be the first shall make it stale.

Col.

Within Sir is a Glasse, that by reflexion Doth shew the image of all sorts of pleasures That ever yet were acted, more variety Then Aretines pictures.

Aco.

Ile see the Iewell; For though to doe, most moves my appetite, I love to see, as well as act delight.

Exit.

Bird.

These are the things indeed the stage doth teach, Dear heart, what a foule sinke of sinnes runne here!

Flow.

Insooth it is the common shore of lewdnesse.

SCEN. 4.

• Asotus.
• Aneleutherus.

Rosc.

These are Aneleutherus an illiberall Niggardly Vsurer, that will sell heaven to purchase Earth. That, his sonne Asotus, a profuse Prodigall, that will sell earth to buy Hell. The extreames of Liberality which prescribes a mediocrity in the Geting and Spending of Riches.

Aneleu.

Come boy, goe with me to the Scriveners, goe,

Asot.

I was in hope you would have said a Bawdy house.

Anel.

Thence to th'exchange.

Asot.

No, to the Taverne Father.

Anel.

Be a good husband boy, follow my counsell.

Asot.

Your counsell? No dad, take you mine And be a good fellow—shall we goe and roare? Slid Father I shall never live to spend That you have got already—Poxe of atturneys, Merchants, and Scriveners, I would heare you talke Of Drawers, Punks, and Panders.

Anel.

Prodigall child! Thou dost not know the sweets of getting wealth.

Asot.

Nor you the pleasure that I take in spending it. To feed on Caveare, and eate Anchoves!

Anel.

Asotus, my dear sonne, talke not to me Of your Anchoves, or your Caveare. No, feed on Widdowes, have each meale an Orphan Serv'd to your Table, or a glibbery heire With all his lands melted into a morgage.

The Gods themselves feed not on such fine dainties, Such fatting, thriving diet.

Asot.

Trust me Sir, I am asham'd la—now to call you Father, Ne're trust me now I'am, come be a Gentleman: One of your haveings, and thus carke and care? Come, I will send for a whole coach or two Of Bankside Ladies, and wee will be Ioviall! Shall the World say you pine and pinch for nothing? Well doe your pleasure, keep me short of monies, When you are dead, as dye I hope you must, Ile make a shift to spend one halfe at least Ere you are coffin'd, and the other halfe Ere you are fully laid into your grave. Were not you better help away with some of it? But you will starve your selfe, that when y'are rotten, One—Have at all of mine may set it flying. And I will have your bones cut into dice, And make you guilty of the spending of it: Or I will get a very handsome bowle Made of your scull, to drink't away in healths.

Aneil.

That's not the way to thrive! No sit and brood On thy estate, as yet it is not hatch'd Into maturity.

Asot.

Marry I will brood upon it, And hatch it into chickens, capons, hens, Larks, thrushes, quailes, wood-cocks, snites & phesants The best that can be got for love or mony. There is no life to drinking!

Anel.

O yes, yes,

Exaction, usury, and oppression. Twenty i'th' hundred is a very Nectar. And wilt thou, wastfull lad, spend in a supper What I with sweat and labour, care and industrie Have been an age a scraping up together? No, no Asotus, trust gray-head experience; As I have been an oxe, a painfull oxe, A diligent, toyling, and laborious oxe To plow up Gold for thee; so I would have thee—

Asot.

Be a fine silly Asse to keepe it.

Anel.

Be a good watchfull Dragon to preserve it.

Colax.

Sir, I overheard your wise instructions, And wonder at the gravitie of your counsell. This wild unbridled boy is not yet grown Acquainted with the world; He has not felt The weight of need, that want is vertue's clog; Of what necessity, respect and value Wealth is; how base and how contemptible Poverty makes us. Liberality In some circumstances may be allow'd; As when it has no end but honesty, With a respect of person, quantity, Quality, time and place; but this profuse, Vaine, injudicious spending speaks him Ideot. And yet the best of liberalitie Is to be liberall to our selves; and thus Your wisdome is most liberall, and knowes How fond a thing it is for discreet men To purchase with the losse of their estate The name of one poore vertue liberalitie.

And that too only from the mouth of beggers. One of your judgment would not I am sure Buy all the vertues at so deare a rate. Nor are you sir, I dare presume, so fond As for to weigh your gains by the strict scale Of equity, and Iustice; Names invented To keepe us beggers! I would counsell now Your son to tread no steps but yours, for they Will certainly direct him the broad way That leads unto the place wher Plenty dwels, And shee shall give him honour.

Anel.

Your tongue is pow'rfull: Pray read this Lecture to my sonne; I goe To find my scriv'ner, who is gone I heare To a strange Glasse wherein all things appeare.

Exit.

Asot.

To see if it can shew him his lost eares. Now to your Lecture.

Col.

And to such a one As you will be a willing Pupill to. Think you I meant all that I told your father? No, 'twas to blind the eyes of the old Huncks. I love a man like you that can make much Of his blest Genius: Miracle of Charity! That open hand becomes thee; Let thy Father Scrape like the Dunghill cock the dirt, and mire, To find a pretious Gemme for thee, the Chicken Of the white Hen to weare. It is a wonder How such a generous branch as you, could spring From that old root of damned avarice! For every widdowes house the father swallowes,

The sonne should spue a Taverne. How are we Richer then others, not in having much, But in be stowing; And that shines glorious in you. The chuff•…•… crownes Imprison'd in his rusty chest me thinkes I heare groan out, and long till they be thine, In hope to see the light againe. Thou canst not Stand in a flood of Nectar up to th' chin, And yet not dare to sup it; nor canst suffer The Golden Apples dangle at thy lips, But thou wilt tast the fruit. 'Tis generous this!

Asot.

Gramercy, thou shalt be Doctor o'th' chaire. Here—'tis too little, but 'tis all my store, I'le in to pumpe my dad, and fetch thee more.

Exit.

Colax.

How like you now my art? is't not a subtle one?

Flow.

Now out upon thee thou lewd reprobate! Thou man of sinne, and shame, that sowest cushions Vnto the elbowes of iniquity.

Colax.

I doe commend this zeale; you cannot be Too fervent in a cause so full of goodnesse. There is a generall frost hath ceas'd devotion, And without such like ardent flames as these There is no hope to thaw it. The word, Puritane, That I doe glorify, and esteeme rev'erend, As the most sanctified, pure, and holiest Sect Of all professours, is by the profane Vs'd for a name of infamy, a by-word, a slander, That I sooth vice I doe but flatter them, As we give children plums to learn their praiers, T' entice them to the truth, and by faire meanes

Work out their reformation.

Bird.

'Tis well done, I hope hee'le become a brother, and make A Separatist!

Flow.

You shall have the devotions Of all the Elders. But this foppinesse Is weary some, I could at our Saint Antlings, Sleeping and all, sit twenty times as long,

Rosc.

Goe in with me to recreate your spirits, As Musique theirs, with some refreshing song, Whose patience our rude Scene hath held too long.

Exeunt

Finis Actus 2.

ACTVS 3.

SCENA 1.

• Roscius.
• Bird.
• Flowrdew.

Bird.

I will no more of this abomination.

Rosc.

The end crownes every action, stay till that. Iust Iudges will not be prejudicate.

Flow.

Pray sir continue still the moralizing.

Rosc.

The next we present are the extreams of Magnifi∣cence, who teaches a Decorum in great expences, as Libera∣lity in the lesser: One is Banausus, out of a meere •…•…tent ati∣on vaine-gloriously expensive; the other Microprepes one in glorious works extreamly base and penurious.

• Banausus.
• Microprepes.

Banau.

Being borne not for our selves but for our freinds, Our country and our glory, it is fit We doe expresse the majesty of our soules

In deeds of bounty and magnificence.

Micro.

The world is full of vanity, and fond fooles Promise themselves a name from building Churches Or any thing that tends to the Republique, 'Tis the Re-private that I study for.

Banau.

First therefore for the fame of my Republique. I'le imitate a brave Aegyptian King, And plant such store of onions, and of garlike, As shall maintaine so many thousand workmen, To th' building of a Pyamid at Saint Albons, Vpon whose top I'le set a hand of brasse, With a scrowle in't to shew the way to London, For th' benefit of Travellers.

Colax.

Excellent! 'Tis charity to direct the wandring Pilgrim.

Micro.

I am Church-warden, and we are this yeare To build our steeple up, now to save charges I'le get a high crown'd hat with five Low-bels To make a peale shall serve as well as Bow.

Colax.

'Tis wisely cast, And like a carefull steward of the Church, Of which the Steeple is no part, at least No necessary one.

Bird.

Verily 'tis true. They are but wicked Synagogues where those instru∣ments Of Superstition and Idolatry Ring warning to sinne, and chime all in to the Divell.

Banau.

And 'cause there is such swarmes of heresies rising:

I'le have an Artist frame two wondrous weathercocks Of Gold, to set on Pauls, and Grantam Steeple, To shew to all the Kingdome what fashion next The Wind of Humour hither means to blow.

Micro.

A wicker chaire will fit them for a Pul∣pit.

Colax.

It is the Doctrine sir that you respect.

Flow.

In sooth I' have heard as wholsome instructions From a zealous wicker chaire, as e're I did From the carv'd Idoll of wainscoat.

Banau.

Next, I intend to found an Hospitall For the decay'd Professours of the Suburbs, With a Colledge of Physitians too at Chelsy Only to study the cure of the French Poxe; That so the sinners may acknowledge me Their only benefactor, and repent.

Colax.

You have a care sir of your countrie's health.

Micro.

Then I will sell the lead to thatch the Chancell.

Ban.

I have a rare device to set Dutch windmills Vpon New-market Heath, and Salisbury Plaine, To draine the Fens.

Colax.

The Fens sir are not there.

Ban.

But who knowes but they may be?

Col.

Very right: You aime at the prevention of a danger.

Micro.

A Porters frock shall serve me for a surplice▪

Flow

Indeed a Frock is not so Ceremonious.

Ban.

But the great work in which I mean to glory, Is in the raising a Cathedrall Church: It shall be at Hoggs-Norton, with a paire

Of stately Organs; more then pity 'twere The Piggs should loose their skill for want of practice!

Bird.

Organs! fye on them for Babylonian Bagpipes!

Micro.

Then for the painting, I bethink my selfe That I have seene in mother Red-caps Hall In painted cloath the story of the Prodigall.

Cola.

And that will be for very good use and morall. Sir you are wise; what serve Aegyptian Pyramids, Ephesian Temples, Babylonian Towers, Carian Coloss'es, Traians water-workes, Domitians Amphitheaters, the vaine cost Of ignorance and prodigalitie! Rome flourish'd when her Capitoll was that ch'd, And all her Gods dwelt but in Cottages. Since Parian marble and Corynthian brasse Enter'd her gawdy Temples, soone shee fell To superstition, and from thence to ruine. You see that in our Churches, glorious Statues Rich Copes, and other ornaments of state Draw wandring eyes from their devotion, Vnto a wanton gazing, and that other Rich edifices, and such gorgeous toyes Doe more proclaime our countries wealth then safety, And serve but like so many guilded baits T'entice a forreigne Foe to our invasion. Goe in, there is a Glasse will shew you sir, What sweet simplicity our Grands•…•…res us'd, How in the Age of Gold no Church was guilded.

Exit. Micro.

Banau.

O I have thought on't, I will straight way build

A free schoole here in London, a free schoole Forth'education of young Gentlemen To study how to drinke, and take Tobacco, To sweare, to roare, to dice, to drab, to quarrell: Twill be the great Gymnasium of the Realme, The Phrontisterium of great Britayny. And for their better study I will furnish them With a large Library of Drapers bookes.

Colax.

'Twill put down Bodlies, and the Vatican. Royall Banausus! how many Sphears fly you Above the earthy dull Microprepes! I hope to live to see you build a stewes Shall out-brave Venice; To repaire old Tiburne And make it Cedar. This magnificent course Doth purchase you an immortality. In them you build your Honour to remaine Th-example and the wonder of Posterity. While other hidebound Churles doe grutch thēselves▪ The Charges of a Tombe.

Ban.

But Ile have one In which Ile lye embalm'd with Mirthe and Cassia, And richer unguents then th' Aegyptian Kings. And all that this my pretious Tombe may furnish The Land with Mummye.

Colax

Yonder is a Glasse Will shew you plots and models of all monuments Form'd the old way, you may invent a new 'Twill make for your more glory.

Ban.

Colax true.

Exit.

Rosc.

These are the extreams of Magnanimity. Caunus a

fellow so highly conceited of his own parts, that he thinks no honour above him; the other Micropsychus a base and low spirited fellow▪ that undervaluing his own qualities, dares not aspire to those dignities, that otherwise his me∣rits are capable of.

SCEN. 2.

• Caunus.
• Micropsychus.

Cau.

I wonder that I hear no newes from Court!

Colax.

All haile unto the honourable Caunus.

Cau.

The honourable Caunus? Tis decreed I am a Privy Counsellor; our new honors Cannot so alter us as that we can Forget our Friends, walk with us our familiar.

Micro.

It puzles me to think what worth I have, That they should put so great an honour on me.

Colax.

Sir I doe know, and see, and so doe all That have not wilfull blindnesse, what rare skill Of wisdome, Policy, Iudgement and the rest Of the state-vertues sit within this brest, As if it were their Parliament; but as yet I am not Sir the happy Messenger That tels you you are cal'd unto the Helme; Or that the Rudder of great Britany Is put into your Hands, that you may steere Our floating Delos till she be arriv'd At the blest Port of Happinesse, and surnam'd The Fortunate Ifle from you that are the fortunate.

Cau.

'Tis strange that I the best experienc'd

The skilfulst and the rarest of all Carpenters, Should not be yet a Privy Counsellour! Surely the State wants eyes, or has drunke opium And sleepes; but when it wakes it cannot chuse But meet the glorious beams of my deserts Bright as the rising Sunne, and say to England, England behold thy light!

Micro.

Make me a constable! Make me that am the simplest of my neighbours So great a Magistrate! so powrfull an officer! I blush at my unworthinesse: a Constable! The very Prince o'th' parish! you are one Sir Of an ability to discharge it better, Let me resigne to you.

Cau.

How? I a Constable? What might I be in your opinion Sir?

Micro.

A Carpenter of worship▪

Cau.

Very well; And yet you would make me a Constable. I'le evidently demonstrate that of all men Your Carpentes are best States-men; of all Carpenters I being the best, am best of Statesmen too: Imagine Sir the Common-wealth a Logge, Or a rude block of wood; your States-man comes, (For by that word I mean a Carpenter) And with the sawe of Policy divides it Into so many boards or severall orders, Of Prince, Nobility, Gentry, and the other Inferiour boards calld Vulgar, fit for nothing But to make styles, or planks to be ▪trod over,

Or trampled on: This addes unto the Logg Call'd Common-wealth at least some smal perfection: But afterwards he plains them, and so makes The Common-wealth, that was before a board, A pretty Wainscoat; some he carves with Titles Of Lord, or Knight, or Gentleman; Some stand plain, And serve us more for use then Ornament, We call them Yeomen; (Boards now out of fashion.) And lest the disproportion breake the frame, He with the peggs of amity and concord, As with the glew-pot of good Government Ioynts 'em together, makes an absolute Edifice Of the Re-publique: State-skill'd Machiavell Was certainly a Carpenter; yet you thinke A Constable a Gyant Dignity.

Micro.

Pray Heaven that Icarus-like I doe not melt The waxen plumes of my ambition! Or that from this bright Chariot of the Sunne I fall not headlong down with Phaeton, I have aspir'd so high: make me a Constable That have not yet attain'd to the Greeke tongue! Why 'tis his office for to keepe the peace, His Majesties Peace: I am not fit to keepe His Majesties Hoggs, much lesse his Peace, the best Of all his jewells: How dare I presume To charge a man in the Kings name! I faint Vnder the burthen of so great a place, Whose weight might presse down Atlas: Magistrates Are only Sumpter-horses. Nay they threaten me To make me Warden of the Church.

Am I a Patriot? or have I ability To present Knights-Recusant, Clergy-Reelers, Or Gentlemen-Fornicators?

Colax.

You have worth Richly enamel'd with a modesty. And though your lofty merit might sit crown'd On Caucasus, or the Pyrenean mountaines, You choose the humbler valley, and had rather Grow a safe shrub below, then dare the winds, And be a Cedar: Sir you know there is not Halfe so much honour in the Pilots place As danger in the storme. Poore windy Titles Of Dignity, and offices that puffe up The bubble pride till it swell big, and burst, What are they but brave nothings? Toies cal'd Ho∣nours Make them on whom they are bestow'd no better Then glorious slaves, the servants of the Vulgar: Men sweat at Helme, as much as at the Oare. There is a Glasse within shall shew you sir The vanity of these filke-wormes, that doe think They toile not, 'cause they spin so fine a thread.

Micro.

I'le see it. Honour is a babies rattle, And let blind Fortune where she will, bestow her; Lay me on earth, and I shall fall no lower.

Exit.

Cau.

Colax what newes?

Col.

The Persian Emperour Is desperatly sick.

Cau.

Heaven take his soule! When I am the Grand Sophie, as 'tis likely

I may be, Colax thou art made for ever.

Col.

The Turke they say prepares again for Poland.

Cau.

And I no Basshaw yet? Sultan repent it!

Col.

The State of Venice too is in distraction.

Cau.

And can that State be so supinely negligent, As not to know whom they may choose their Duke?

Col.

Our Merchants doe report th'inhabitants there Are now in consultation, for the setling The Crown upon a more deserving head Then his that bears it.

Cau.

Then my fortunes rise On confident wings, and all my hopes fly certain. Colax be bold: thou seest the Prester Iohn. Well England, of all Countries in the World Most blind to thy own good. other Nations Wooe me to take the bridle in my hands With gifts and presents; had I liv'd in Rome Who durst with Caunus stand a candidate? I might have choice of Aedile, Consull, Tribune, Or the perpetuall Dictators place. I could discharge 'em all: I know my merits Are large, and boundlesse: A Cesar might be hewed Out of a Carpenter, if a skilfull workman But undertooke it.

Colax.

Tis a worthy confidence. Let Birds of night and shame, with their owles eyes Not dare to gaze upon the sunne of Honour; They are no presidents for Eagles: Bats Like dull Micropsychus; things of earth, and lead, May love a private safety; men in whom

Prometheus has spent much of his stolne fire, Mount upwards like a flame, and court bright honour Hedg'd in with thousand dangers! Whats a man Without desert? and what's desert to him That does not know he has it? Is he rich That holds within his house some buried chests Of Gold, or Pearle, & knowes not where to look thē? What was the Load-stone, till the use was found, But a fowle dotard on a fowler Mistresse? I praise your Argus eyes, that not alone Shoote their beames forwards, but reflect and turne Back on themselves, and finde an object there More worthy their intentive contemplation. You are at home no stranger, but are growne Acquainted with your vertues, and can tell What use the pearle is of, which Dunghill cocks Scrape into dirt againe. This searching judgement Was not intended to worke wood, but men. Honour attends you. I shall live to see A Diadem crowne that head. There is within A Glasse that will acquaint you with all places Of Dignity, authority, and renowne, The State, and carriage of them: Choose the best, Such as deserve you, and refuse the rest.

Cau.

I goe, that want no worth to merit honour; 'Tis honour that wants worth to merit mee. Fortune, thou arbitresse of humane things Thy credit is at stake: if I but rise The Worlds opinion will conceive th'hast eyes.

Exit.

SCEN. 3.

• Orgylus.
• Aorgus.

Rosc.

These are the extreams of Meeknesse. Orgylus an angry quarrelsome man, mov'd with the least shadow, or appearance of Iniury. The other in defect, Aorgus, a fel∣low so patient, or rather insensible of wrong, that he is not capable of the grossest abuse.

Org.

Perswade me not, he has awak'd a fury That carries steele about him. Daggs, and Pistolls! To bite his thumb at me?

Aor.

Why should not any man Bite his own thumbe?

Org.

At mee? weare I a sword To see men bite their thumbs—Rapiers and Daggers!- He is the sonne of a Whore.

Aor.

That hurts not you. Had he bit yours, it had been some pretence T'have mov'd this anger—he may bite his own, And eate it too.

Org.

Muskets, and Canons!-eate it? If he dare eate it in contempt of me, He shall eate something else too that rides here; Ile try his estridg stomack.

Aor.

Sir be patient.

Org.

You lye in your throat, and I will not.

Aor.

To what purpose is this impertinent madnesse? Pray be milder.

Org.

Your Mother was a whore, & I will not put it up.

Aor.

Why should so slight a toye thus trouble you?

Org.

Your Father was hang'd, and I will be reveng'd.

Aor.

When reason dorh in equall ballance poize The nature of two injuries, yours to me Lyes heavy, when that other would not turne An even scale; and yet it moves not mee; My Anger is not up.

Org.

But I will raise it; You are a foole!

Aor.

I know it, and shall I Be angry for a truth?

Org.

You are besides An arrant knave!

Aor.

So are my betters sir.

Org.

I cannot move him—O my spleen!—it rises, For very anger I could eat my knuckles.

Aor.

You may, or bite your thumb all's one to mee.

Org.

You are a horned beast, a very Cuckold!

Aor.

'Tis my wives fault, not mine, I have no reason Then to be angry for anothers finne.

Org.

And I did graft your horns, you might have come And found us glewd together like two goats; And stood a witnesse to your transformation.

Aor.

Why if I had, I am so farre from anger I would have e'ne falne down upon my knees, And desir'd heaven to have forgiven you both.

Org.

Your Children are all bastards, not one of them, Vpon my knowledge, of your own begetting.

Aor.

Why then I am the more beholding to them That they will call me father; it was lust

Perchance, that did beget them, but I am sure 'Tis charity to keepe the Infants.

Org.

Not yet stirr'd? 'Tis done of meere contempt, he will not now Be angry, to expresse his scorne of me. 'Tis above patience this, insufferable. Proclaime me coward, if I put up this! Dotard you will be angry, will you not?

Aor.

To see how strange a course fond wrath doth goe! You will be angry 'cause I am not so.

Or.

I, can endure no longer, if your spleene Lye in your breech, thus I will kick it up.-

Aor.

Alpha. Beta. Gamma. Delta. Epsylon. Zeta. Eta. Theta. Iota. Kappa. Lamda▪ Mu. Nu. Xi. Omicron. Pi. Ro. Sigma. Tau. Vpsilon. Phi. Chi. Psi. Omega.

Org.

How? what contempt is this?

Aor.

An antidote Against the poison, Anger: 'twas prescrib'd A Roman Emperour, that on every injury Repeated the Greek Alphabet, that being done His anger too was over. This good rule I learn'd from him, and Practise.

Org.

Not yet angry? Still will you vexe me? I will practise too?

(Kicks again)

Aor.

Aleph. Beth. Gimel.

Org.

What new Alphabet Is this?

Aor.

The Hebrew Alphabet, that I use A second remedy.

Org.

O my Torment! still?

Are not your Buttocks angry with my toes?

Aor.

For ought I feele your toes have more occasion For to be angry with my Buttocks.

Org.

Well, I'le try your Physick for the third assault; And exercise the patience of your nose.

Aor.

A. B. C. D. E. F. G. H. I. K. L. M. N. O. P. Q. R. S. T. V. W. X. Y. Z.

Org.

Are you not angry now?

Aor.

Now sir, why now? Now you have done.

Org.

O 'tis a meere plot this, To jeere my tamenesse: will no sense of wrong Waken the lethargy of a cowards soule? Will not this rowse her •…•…rom her dead sleepe, nor this?

Aor.

Why should I sir be angry; if I suffer An injury, it is no guilt of mine; No, let it trouble them, that doe the wrong; Nothing but peace approaches innocence.

Org.

A bitternesse o'reflows me; my eyes flame, My blood boyles in me, all my faculties Of soule and body move in a disorder; His patience hath so tortur'd me: Sirra villain I will dissect thee with my rapiers point; Rip up each veine, and sinewe of my storque, Anatomize him, searching every entraile, To see if nature, when she made this asse, This suffering asse; did not forget to give him Some gall!

Cola.

Put it up good Orgylus,

Let him not glory in so brave a death, As by your hand; it stands not with your honour To stain your rapier in a cowards blood. The Lybian Lions in their noble rage Will prey on Bulls, or mate the Vnicorne; But trouble not the painted butterflye; Ants crawle securely by him.

Orgy.

'Tis intollerable! Would thou wert worth the killing.

Colax.

A good wish, Savouring as well discretion, as bold valour: Think not of such a baffel'd asse as this, More stone, then man: Medusa's head has turn'd him. There is in ants a choler, every flye Carries a spleene: Poore wormes being trampled on Turne tayle, as bidding battaile to the feet Of their oppref•…•…ors. A dead palsy sure Hath struck a desperate numnesse through his soule, Till it be growne insensible: Meere stupidity Hath ceaz'd him: Your more manly soule I find Is capable of wrong, and like a flint Throwes forth a fire into the strikers eyes. You beare about you valours whetstone, anger; Which sets an edge upon the sword, and makes it Cut with a •…•…pirit: you conceive fond patience Is an injustice to our selves, the suffering One injury invites a second, that Calls on a third, till wrongs doe multiply And reputation bleed: How bravely anger Becomes that martiall brow! A glasse within

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Will shew you sir when your great spleene doth rise How fury darts a lightning from your eyes.

Org.

Learne anger sir against you meet me next; Never was man like me with patience vext.

Exit.

Aor.

I am so farre from anger in my selfe, That 'tis my grief I can make others so.

Colax.

It proves a sweetnesse in your disposition, A gentle winning carriage—deare Aorgus O give me leave to open wide my brest, And let so rare a freind unto my soule; Enter, and take possession: such a man As has no gall, no bitternesse, no exceptions, Whom nature meant a Dove, will keepe alive The •…•…ame of amitie, where all discourse Flowes innocent, and each free jest is taken. Hee's a good freind will pardon his freinds errours, But hee's a better takes no notice of them. How like a beast with rude and savage rage Breath'd the distemper'd soule of Orgylus? The pronenesse of this passion is the Nurse That fosters all confusion, ruines states, Depopulates Cities, layes great Kingdomes wast; 'Tis that affection of the mind that wants The strongest bridle; give it raines it runnes A desperate course, and drags downe reason with it. It is the whirlwind of the soule, the storme And tempest of the mind, that raises up The billowes of disturbed passions To shipwrack Iudgment. O—a soule like yours Constant in patience! Let the North wind mee•…•…

The South at sea, and Zephyrus breath opposite To Eurus; let the two and thirty sonnes Of Eolus break forth at once, to plow The Ocean, and dispeople all the woods, Yet here could be a calme, it is not danger Can make this cheeke grow pale, nor injury Call blood into it. Their's a Glasse within Will let you see your selfe, and tell you now How sweet a tamenesse dwells upon your brow.

Aor.

Colax, I must believe, and therefore goe; Who is distrustfull will be angry too.

SCEN. 4.

• Alazon.
• Eiron.

Rosc.

The next are the extreames of Truth, Alazon one that arrogates that to himselfe which is not his, and Eiron one that out of an itch to be thought modest dissembles his qualities; the one erring in defending a falshood, the other offending in denying a truth.

Alaz.

I heare you're wondrous valiant.

Eir.

I! alas, Who told you I was valiant?

Alaz.

The world speaks it.

Eir.

She is deceiv'd; but does she speak it truly?

Alaz.

I am indeed the Hector of the age; But she calls you Achilles.

Eir.

I Achilles? No, I am no Achilles: I confesse I am no coward: That the world should think

That I am an Achilles! yet the world may Call me what she please.

Alaz.

Next to my valour, Which but for yours could never hope a second, Yours is reported.

Eir.

I may have my share; But the last valour shew'd in Christendo•…•…e Was in Lepanto.

Alaz.

Valour in Lepanto? He might be thought so sir, by them that knew him not; But I have found him a poore baffel'd snake: Sir, I have writ him, and proclaim'd him coward On every post i'th' City.

Eiron.

Who?

Alaz.

Lepanto, The valour sir that you so much renowne.

Eir.

Lepanto was no man sir, but the place Made famous by the so-much mention'd battaile Betwixt the Turks and Christians.

Alaz.

Cry you mercy! Then the Lepanto that I meant, it seemes Was but that Lepanto's name-sake. I can Find that you are well skill'd in History.

Eir.

Not a whit; A novice, I! I could perchance Discourse from Adam downward; but what's that To History? All that I know is only Th' originall, continuance, height, and alteration Of every Common wealth. I have read nothing But Plutarch, Livy, Tacitus, Suetonius, Appian, Dion, Iunius, P•…•…terculus,

With Florus, Iustine, Salust, and some few More of the Latine: For the moderne, I Have all without book Gallo-belgicus, Phillip De-Comino, Machiavele, Guiccardine, The Turkish and Aegyptian Histories, With those of Spaine, France, and the Netherlands. For England, Polydore Virgil, Camden, Speed, And a matter of forty more, nothing Alas to one that's read in Histories. In the Greeke I have a smack or so, at Zenophon, Herodotus, Thucidides, and Stowes Cronicle.

Alaz.

Believe me sir, and that Stowes Cronicle is very good Greeke; you litle Think who writ it! Doe you not see him? are You blind? I am the man.

Eir.

Then I must number You with my best Authors in my Library.

Alaz.

Sir, the rest too are mine, but that I venture '•…•…m With other names, to shunne the opinion Of arrogance; so the subt'le Cardinall Calls one book Bellarmine, 'nother Tostatus, Yet one mans labour both. You talk of numbring; You cannot choose but heare how lowd fame speaks Of my experience in Arithmetique: She sayes you too grow neare perfection.

Eir.

Farre from it I; some in-sight, but no more. I count the starres, can give the Totall summe, How many sands there be i'th' sea, but these Are triflles to the expert, that have studied

Pen.

keth-mans president. Sir, I have no skill In any thing, if I have any, 'tis In languages, but yet insooth I speak Only my mother Tongue; I have not gain'd The Hebrew, Chaldee, Syriack, or Arabick; Nor know the Greek with all her Dialects. Scaliger and Tom Coriate both excell me. I have no skill in French, Italian, Spanish, Turkish, Aegyptian, China, Persian Tongues▪ Indeed the Latine I was whipt into; But Ruscian, Slavonian, and Dalmatian With Saxon, Danish, and Albanian speech, That of the Cossaches, and Hungarian too, With Biscays, and the prime of languages, Dutch, Weltch, and Irish are too hard for me To be familiar in: and yet some think (But thought is free) that I doe speak all these As I were borne in each. But they may erre That think so; 'Tis not every Iudgment sits In the infallible chaire. To confesse truth All Europe, Asia, and Affrick too; But in America, and the new-found world I very much feare there be some languages That would goe neere to puzzle me.

Alaz.

Very likely. You have a pretty pittance in the Tongues; But Eiron, I am now more generall; I can speak all alike, there is no stranger Of so remote a nation heares me talke But confidently calls me Country-man-

The witty world giving my worth her due Surnames me the Confusion▪ I but want An Oratour like you to speak my praise.

Eir.

Am I an Oratour Alazon? no; Though it hath pleas'd the wiser few to say Demosthenes was not so eloquent; But freinds will flatter, and I am not bound To believe all Hyperboles: something sir Perchance I have, but 'tis not worth the naming▪ Especially Alazon in your presence.

Alaz.

Your modesty Eiron speaks but truth in this.

Colax.

I need not flatter these, they'le doe't themselves, And crosse the Proverb that was wont to say One Mule doth scrub another, here each Asse Hath learn'd to claw himselfe.

Alaz.

I doe •…•…urpasse All Oratours. How like you my Orations? Those against Catiline; I account them best, Except my Philippicks; all acknowledge me Above the three great Oratours of Rome.

Eir.

What three Alazon?

Ala.

Marcus, Tullius, And Cicero, the best of all the three.

Eir.

Why those three names are all the selfe same mans

Alaz.

Then all is one. Were those three names three men. I should excell them all. And then for Poetry!

Eir.

There is no Poetry but Homers Iliads.

Alaz.

Alasse twas writith' nonage of my Muses. You understand th'Italian?

Eir.

A little sir, I have read Tasso.

Ala.

And Torquato too?

Eir.

Their still the same.

Ala.

I find you very skilfull. Eiron, I erre only to found your judgement. You are a Poet too.

Eir.

The world may think so, But 'tis deceiv'd, and I am sorry for't. But I will tell you sir some excellent verses Made by a friend of mine; I have not read A better Epigram of a Neoterique.

Ala.

Pray doe my eyes the favour sir to let mee read 'um.

Eir.

Strange sights there late was seene, that did affright The Multitude; the Moone was seene by night, And Sun appear'd by day:—is it not good?

Ala.

Excellent good, proceed.

Eir.

Without remorse Each starre and planet kept their wonted course. What here could fright ▪ them? (mark the answer now) O sir aske not that: The Vulgar know not why they feare, nor what. But in their humors too inconstant bee, Nothing seemes strange to them but constancy. Has not my friend approv'd himselfe a Poet?

Alaz.

The Verses sir are excellent, but your friend Approves himselfe a thiefe.

Eir.

Why good Alazon?

Alaz.

A Plagiary I mean, the verses sir

Were stolne.

Eir.

From whom?

Alaz.

From me, beleeu't I made 'um.

Eir.

They are alasse unworthy sir your owning. Such Trifles as my muse had stumbled on This morning.

Alaz.

Nay, they may be yours: I told you That you come neare me sir. Yours they may be. Good witts may jump: but let me tell you, Eiron, Your Freind must steale them if he have them.

Col.

What pretty Gulls are these? Ile take 'um off; Alazon, you are learned.

Alaz.

I know that.

Col.

And vertuous.

Alaz.

Tis confessd.

Col.

A good Historian.

Alaz.

Who dares deny it?

Col.

A rare Arithmetician.

Alaz.

I' have heard it often.

Col.

I commend your care That know your vertues! why should modesty Stop good mens mouthes from their own praise? our neighbours Are envious, and will rather blast our memories With infamy, then immortalize our names: When Fame hath taken cold, and lost her voice, We must be our own trumpets; carefull men Will have an Inventory of their goods, And why not of their vertues? should you say You were not wise, it were a sinne to truth.

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Let Eirons modesty tell bashfull lies, To cloake and masque his parts; hee's a foole for't. Twas heavenly counsell bid us know our selves. You may be confident, chaunt your own encomiums, Ring out a Panegyrique to your selfe▪ And your selfe write the learned Commentarie Of your own actions.

Ala.

So I have.

Col.

Where is it?

Ala.

Tis stolne.

Col.

I know the thiefe, they call him Cesar. Goe in good sir; there is within a Glasse That will present you with the Felons face. Exit Alaz. Eiron, you hear the newes!

Eir:

Not I, what is it?

Col.

That you are held the only man of Art.

Eir.

Is't currant Colax?

Col.

Currant as the aire, Every man breaths it for a certainty.

Eir.

This is the first time I hear'd on't in truth. Can it be certain? so much charity left In mens opinion?

Col.

You call it charity Which is their duty: Vertue sir, like yours Commands mens praises. Emptinesse and folly, Such as Alazon is, use their own Tongues, While reall worth hears her own praise, not speaks it. Other mens mouths become your trumpeters, And winged fame proclaimes you lowdly forth From East to West, till either Pole admire you.

Selfe-praise is bragging, and begets the envy Of them that heare it, while each man therein Seemes undervalued: You are wisely silent In your own worth, and therefore 'twere a sinne For others to be so: The fish would loose Their being mute, ere such a modest worth Should want a speaker: yet sir I would have you Know your own vertues, be acquainted with them.

Eir.

Why good sir bring me but acquainted them.

Col.

There is a glasse within shewes you your selfe By a reflection; goe and speake 'em there.

Eir.

I should be glad to see 'em any where▪

Exit Eir.

Rosc.

Retire your selves againe, for these are sights Made to revive not burden with delights.

Exeunt omnes.

Finis Actus 3.

ACTUS IV.

SCENA 1.

• Flowrdew,
• Bird,
• Roscius.

Bird.

My indignation boileth like a pot, An over-heated pot, still, still it boyleth, It boy leth and it bubleth with disdaine.

Flow.

My Spirit within me too fumeth, I say Fumeth, and steemeth up, and runneth ore With holy wrath, at these delights of flesh.

Rosc.

The Actours beg your silence—The next vertue, whose extreames we would present, wants a name both in the Greeke and Latine,

Bird.

Wants it a name? 'tis an unchristian vertue.

Rosc.

But they describe it such a modesty as directs us in the pursuit, and refusall of the meaner honours•…•… and so an∣swers to Magnanimity, as Liberality to Magnificence: But here, that humor of the persons, being already fore∣stall'd, and no Pride now so much practis'd, or counte∣nanc'd as that of Apparell, let me present you Philotimia, an overcurious Lady too neat in her attire▪ and for Aphi∣lotimus, Luparius a nasty sordid sloven.

Flowr.

Pride is a vanity worthy the correction. Philotimia▪ Luparus▪ Col•…•….

Phil.

What mole drest me to day? O patience▪ Who would be troubled with these mop-eyd Cham∣bermaids? Ther's a whole haire on this side more then t'other, I am no Lady else!—come on you sloven! Was ever Christian Madam so tormented To wed a swine as I am? make you ready.

Lupa.

I would the Tailor had bin hang'd for mee That first invented cloathes—O nature, nature! More cruell unto man then all thy creatures! Calves come into the world with dublets on; And Oxen have no breeches to put off. The Lambe is borne with her Freeze-coat about her; Hoggs goe to bed in rest, and are not troubled With pulling 〈◊〉〈◊〉 their hose and shoos i'th'morning, With gar•…•…ing, •…•…rdling, trussing, buttoning, And a 〈◊◊〉〈◊◊〉 that afflict humanity.

Phil.

To 〈◊◊◊〉〈◊◊◊〉! shee hath made this cheek By much too 〈◊〉〈◊〉, and hath forgot to whiten The naturall rednesse of my nose, she knowes not

What 'tis wants dealbation! O fine memory! If she has not set me in the selfe same teeth That I wore yesterday, I am a jew. Does she think that I can eate twice with the same, Or that my mouth stands as the Vulgar does? What? are you snorting there? youle rise, you sluggard And make you ready?

Lupa.

Rise, and make you ready? Two workes of that, your happy birds make one; They when they rise are ready. Blessed birds! They fortunate creatures sleepe in their own clothes, And rise with all their feather beds about them: Would nakednesse were come again in fashion; I had some hope then when the brests went bare Their bodies too would have come to 't in time.

Phil.

Beshrew her for't, this wrinkle is not fill'd! Youll goe and wash—you are a pretty husband▪

Lupa.

Our Sow ne're washes, yet she has a face Me thinks as cleanly, Madam, as yours is▪ If you durst weare your own.

Col:

Madame Superbia▪ You'are studying the Ladies library, The Looking-glasse; 'tis well! so great a beauty Must have her ornaments—Nature adornes The Peacocks taile with starres; 'tis shee attires The Bird of Paradise in all her plumes; She decks the fields with various flowres; 'tis shee Spangled the Heavens with all those glorious lights; She spotted th'Ermine's skin; and arm'd the fish In silver male: But man she sent forth naked

Not that he should remaine so, but that he Indued with reason should adorne himselfe With every one of these. The silke-worme is Only mans spinster, else we might suspect That she esteem'd the painted Butterfly Above her master-piece: you are the Image Of that bright Goddesse: therefore weare the Iewels Of all the East; let the red sea be ransack'd To make you glitter, looke on Luparus Your Husband there, and see how in a sloven All the best characters of Divinity, Not yet worne out in man, are lost and buried.

Philo.

I see it to my griefe, pray counsell him.

Col.

This vanity, in your nice Ladies humors Of being so curious in her toies, and dresses, Makes me suspitious of her honesty. These Cobweb-lawnes catch spiders sir, believe it▪ You know that clothes doe not commend the man, But 'tis the living; though this age preferre A cloake of Plush, before a braine of art. You understand what misery 'tis to have No worth but that we owe the dra•…•…er for; No doubt you spend the time your Lady looses In tricking up her body, to cloth the soule.

Lup.

To cloth the soule? must the soule too be cloth'd? I protest sir, I had rather have no soule Then be tormented with the clothing of it.

Rosc.

To these enter the extreames of modesty, a neer•…•… kinswoman of the vertues, Anaiskinthia or Impudence, a bawd; and Kataplectus an over bashfull Scholar▪ where

our Author hopes the women will pardon him, if of foure and twenty vices he presents but two (Pride and Impu∣dence) of their sexe.

SCENA 2.

• Anaiskintia.
• Kataplectus.

Philo.

Here comes Anaiskintia too;—O fates! Acolastus, and Asotus have sent for mee, And my breath not perfum'd yet! Kat. O sweetmother, Are the Gentlemen there already?

Anais.

Come away, Are you not asham'd to be so bashfull? well, If I had thought of this in time, I would As soone have seene you fairely hang'd as sent you To' th' Vniversity.

Phil.

What gentleman is that?

Anais.

A shamefast Scholar Madam▪—looke upon her, Speake to her, or you loose your exhibition: —Youle speake I hope, weare not away your buttons▪

Kata.

What should I say?

Anaisk.

Why tell her you are glad To see her Ladiship in health—nay out with it! Katap.—Gaudeo te bone valere—

Phil.

A pretty Proficient! What standing is he of i'th' Vniversity?

Anais.

He dares not answer to that question Madam.—

Philo.

How long have you bin in the Academy?

Katap.

Profecto Do—Domina sum Bac—Bac—Bac•…•…ha∣laureus Artium.

Phil.

What pitty 'tis he is not impudent!

Anais.

Nay all my cost I see is spent in vaine; I having, as your Ladiship knowes full well, Good practice in the Suburbs; and by reason That our Mortality there, is very subject To an infection of the French Disease, I brought my Nephew up 'ith 'Vniversity, Hoping he might (having attain'd some knowledge) Save me the charge of keeping a Physitian; But all in vaine: he is so bashfull Madam, He dares not looke upon a womans water.

Colax.

Sweet Gentleman, proceed in bashfulnesse! 'Tis vertues best preserver—

Kata.

Recte dicis, sic inquit Aristoteles.

Col.

That being gone The rest soone follow, and a swarme of vice Enter the soule, no colour but a blush Becomes a young mans cheeke: pure sha•…•…efastnesse Is 〈◊〉〈◊〉 to the •…•…ps; and eares, that nothing Might enter, or come out of man, but what Is good, and modest: Nature strives to hide The parts or shame, let her, the best of guides,

Katap.

Natura dux 〈◊〉〈◊〉.

Colax.

Teach us to doe so too in our discourse.

Katap.

Gratias tibi ago.

Philo.

Inure him to speake bawdy.

Anais.

A very good way; Kataplectus here's a Lady, would heare you speake obscenely:

Katap.

Obscen•…•…m est, quod intra scenam agi non •…•…portuit.

Anais.

Off goes your Velvet cap! did I maintaine you To have you disobedient? you'l be perswaded?

Katap.

Liber is operam dare.

Anais.

What's that in English.

Katap.

To doe an endeavour for children▪

Anais.

Some more of this, it may be something one day.

Katap.

Communis est omnium animantium coniunctio∣nis appetituus procrea•…•… causâ.

Phil.

Construe me that.

Katap.

All creatures have a naturall desire or appetite to be joyned together in the lawfull bon•…•…s of Matri∣mony, that they may have sons and daughters.

Anais.

Your Landresse has bestow'd her time but ill▪ Why could not this have been in proper tearmes? If you should Catechize my head, and say, What is your name, would it not •…•…ay, a head? So would my skinne confesse it selfe a skinne; Nor any part about me be asham'd Of his owne name, although I •…•…atechiz'd All over. Come good Nephew, let not me Have any member of my body 〈◊〉〈◊〉.

Colax.

Our Stoique, the gravest o•…•… Philosophers, Is just of your opinion, and thus argues; Is any thing obscene, the fil•…•…hinesse▪ Is either grounded in the things themselves, Or in the words that signifie those things; Not in the things, that would make nature guilty, Who creates nothing filthy, and u•…•…cleane, But chast, and honest; if not in the things, How in the words, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 shadowes of those things? To ma•…•…re ground, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 a cha•…•…t honest 〈◊〉〈◊〉;

Another word that signifies the same, Vnlawfull: every man endures to heare, He got a child; speak plainer, and he blushes, Yet meanes the same. The Stoique thus disputes, That would have men to breath as freely down'ward, As they doe upward.

Anais.

I commend him Madam, Vnto your Ladyships service, he may me•…•…d With counsell! let him be your Gentleman-usher; Madam you may in time bring down his legs To the just size, now over grown with playing Too much at foot-ball.

Phylo.

So he will prove a Stoique; I long to have a Stoique strut before me: Here kisse my hand. Come what is that in Latine?

Katap.

Deo•…•…culor manum,

Phylo.

My lip;—nay sir you must if I command you.

Katap.

Osculorte, velosculor ate.

Phylo.

His breath smells strong.

Anais.

'Tis but of Logick Madam.

Phylo.

He will come to it one day—you shall goe with mee To see an exquisite glasse to dresse me by. Nay, goe! you must goe first; you are too mannerly. It is the office of your place, so—on▪.

exeunt.

Colax.

Slow Luparus rise, or you'l be metamorphos'd; Acteon's fate is imminent.

Lup.

Where's my wife:

Cola.

Shee's gone with a young Snip, and an old baud.

Lup.

Then I am cuckolded; if I be my comfort is

She'has put me on a cap, that will not trouble me With pulling off, yet Madam I'le prevent you.

Exit.

Rosci.

The next are the extreames of Iustice.

SCEN. 3.

Enter Iustice Nimis, Iustice Nihil. Plus and Minus their Clarkes.

Nim.

Plus!

Plus.

What sayes your worship?

Nim.

Have my tenants That hold their lease of lust here in the suburbs, By copy-hold from me, their Lord in chief, Paid their rent charge?

Plus.

They have, and't please your worship; I Receiver generall gave 'em my acquittance.

Parum.

Sir I resigne my Pen, and Inkhorn to you, I shall forget my hand, if I stay here. I have not made a Mittimus since I serv'd you. Were I a reverend Iustice as you are, I would not sit a Cipher on the Bench, But doe as Iustice Nimis does, and be The Dominus-fac-totun•…•… of the Sessions.

Nihil.

But I will be a Dominus fac miserecordian▪ Instead of your Totums: People shall not wish To see my spurres fil'd off, it does me good To take a mercifull nap upon the Bench, Where I soe sweetly dreame of being pittifull, wake the better for it.

Nim.

The yearly value Of my faire manour of Clerken-well•…•…, is pounds So many—besides New years capons, the Lordship Of Turnball so—which with my Pick-hatch grange— And Shoreditch farme, and other premises Adjoyning,—very good, a pretty maintenance To keepe a Iustice of Peace, and Coram too: Besides the fines I take of young beginners,— With harriots of all such as dye, quatenus whores, And ruin'd bauds, with all Amercements due To such as hunt in Purly; this is something, With mine own Game reserv'd.

Plus.

Besides a pretty pittance too for me, That am your worships Bayly.

Parum.

Will't please your worship sir, to heare the Ca∣talogue Of such offenders, as are brought before you?

Nihil.

It does not please me Sir, to heare of any That doe offend; I would the world were innocent! Yet to expresse my mercy you may read them.

Par.

First here is one accus'd for Cutting a purse,

Nihil.

Accus'd, is that enough? if it be guilt To be accus'd, who shall be innocent? Discharge him Parum.

Parum.

Here's another brought For the same fact, ta'ne in the very Action.

Nihil.

Alas it was for need, bid him take warning, And so discharge him too; 'Tis the first time.

Nimis.

Plus, say, what hopes of gaine brings this day's sinne?

Plus.

Anais kyntia Sir was at doore Brought by the Constable.

Nimis.

Set the Constable by the heeles. Shee's at certain with us.

Plus.

Then there's Intemperance the baud.

Nim.

A Tenant too.

Plus.

With the young Lady, Madam Incontinence.

Nim.

Search o're my Doomes-day book; is not she•…•… Plus One of my last compounders?

Plus.

I remember it. Then there is jumping Iude, Heroique Doll, With bouncing Nan, and Cis, your worship's sinner.

Nim.

All Subsidy women, goe free'em all.

Parum.

Sir, here's a knowne offender: one that has Been stockt, and whipt innumerable times, Has suffer'd Bridewell often, not a Iayle But hee's familiar with, burnt in the hand, Forehead, and shoulder, both his eares cut off, With his nose slit, what shall I doe with him?

Nih.

So often punish'd? nay, if no correction Will serve his turne; e'en let him runne his course.

Plus.

Here's Mistresse Fraylty too, the waiting woman.

Nim.

For what offence?

Plus.

A sinne of weaknesse too.

Nim.

Let her be strongly whipt,

Plus,

An't please your worship She has a noble mans letter.

Nim.

Tell her, Plus, she must Have the Kings Picture too.

Plus.

Besides She has promis'd me I should examine her Above i'th' garret.

Nim.

What's all that to me?

Plus.

And she entreats your worship to accept—

Nim.

Nay, if she can entreat in English, Plus, Say she is injur'd.

Par.

Sir here's Snip the Taylor Charg'd with a riot.

Nihil.

Parum, let him goe, He is our Neighbour.

Parum.

Then there is a stranger for quarrelling.

Nihil.

A stranger! o'tis pity To hurt a stranger, we may be all strangers, And would be glad to find some mercy Parū.

Plus.

Sir here's a Gentle-woman of S. Ioanes 'his Charg'd with dishonesty.

Nim.

With dishonesty? Severity will amend her, and yet Plus Aske her a question, if she will be honest?

Plus.

And here's a coblers wife brought for a scold.

Nim.

Tell her of cooking-stooles, tell her there be Oyster queanes, with Orange woemen, Carts, and coaches store, to make a noyse; Yet i•…•… she can speak English We may suppose her silent.

Par.

Here's a Batchelour And a Citizens wife for flatt Adultery; What will you doe with them?

Nih.

A Citizens wife!

Perchance her husband is grown impotent, And who can blame her then?

Par.

Yet I hope you'l bind o're▪the Batchelour.

Nih.

No: enquire First if he have no wife, for if the Batchelour Have not a wife of his owne, 'twas but frailty; And Iustice counts it veniall.

Plus.

Here's one Adicus, And Sophron, that doe mutually accuse Each other of flat fellony!

Nim.

Of the two which is the richer?

Plus.

Adicus is the richer.

Nim.

Then Sophron is the thief.

Plus.

Here is with all, Panourgus come with one calld Prodotes, Lay treason Sir to one anothers charge; Panourgus is the richer.

Nim.

Hee's the Traytour then.

Plus.

How Sir the richer?

Nim.

Thou art ignorant Plus; We must doe some injustice for our credit, Not all for gaine.

Plus.

Eutrapeles complains Sir, Bomolochus has abus'd him.

Nim.

Send Eutrapeles to th'Iayle.

Plus.

It is Eutrapeles that complaines Sir.

Nim.

Tell him we are pleas'd to think 'twas he of∣fended. Will must be law: wer't not for Summum Ius, How could the land subsist?

Colax.

I, or the Iustices Maintaine themselves—goe on—The Land wants such As dare with rigor execute her Lawes: Her festred members must be lanc't and tented. Hee's a bad Surgeon, that for pitty spares The part corrupted, 'till the Gangrene spread, And all the body perish; he that's mercifull Vnto the bad, is cruell to the good. The Pillory must cure the eares disease; The stocks the foots offences; let the backe Beare her own sinne, and her ranke blood purge forth By the Phlebotomy of a whipping post: And yet the secret, and purse punishment Is held the wiser course; because at once It helpes the vertuous and corrects the vitious. Let not the sword of Iustice sleepe and rust Within her velvet sheath; preserve her edge, And keepe it sharpe with cutting. Vse must whet her, Tame mercy is the brest that suckles vice, Till Hydra like she multiply her heads. Tread you on sinne, squeeze out the Serpents braines, All you can finde—for some have lurking holes Where they lye hid. But there's within a glasse Will shew you every close offenders face.

Nim.

Come Plus let's goe in to finde out these con∣cealements; We will grow rich, and purchase honour thus— I mean to be a Baron of Snmmum Ius.

Exit. Ni. Plus.

Parum.

You are the strangest man, you will ac∣knowledge

None for offendors, here's one apprehended For murther.

Nihil.

How!

Par.

He kill'd a man last night.

Nih.

How cam't to passe.

Par.

Vpon a falling out.

Nih.

They shall be friends I'le reconcile'em Parum.

Par.

One of them is dead.

Nih.

Is he not buried yet?

Par.

No Sir.

Nih.

Why then I say they shall shake hands.

Col.

As you have done With Clemency, most Reverend Iustice Nihil; A gentle mildnesse thrones it selfe within you. Your Worship would have justice, use her ballance More then her sword; nor can you endure to dye The robe she weares, deep scarlet, in the blood Of poore offendors: How many men hath rigour By her too hasty, and severe proceedings Prevented from amendment, that perchance Might have turn'd honest and have prov'd good Chri∣stians? Should Iove not spare his thunder, but as often Discharge at us, as we dart sins at him, Earth would want men, and he himselfe want armes, And yet tire Vulcan, and Pyracmon too. You imitate the Gods! and he sins lesse Strikes not at all, then he strikes once amisse. I would not have justice too falcon-eyed; Sometimes a wilfull blindnesse much becomes her;

As when upon the bench she sleepes and winkes At the transgressions of Mortality: In which most mercifull posture I have seene Your pittifull Worship snorting out pardons To the despairing sinner: there's within A Mirrour sir like you! goe see your face How like Astreas 'tis in her own Glasse.

Par.

And I'le petition Iustice Nimi's Clerke To admit me for his under officer.

Exeunt.

SCEN. 4.

• Agroicus.

Rosc.

This is Agroicus, a rustique clownish fellow, whose discourse is all Country; An extreame of urbanity, where∣by you may observe there is a vertue in jesting.

Agro.

They talke of witty discourse, and fine conceits, and I ken not what a deale of prittle prattle would make a Cat pisse to heare 'em. Cannot they be content with their Grannams English? They thinke they talke learnedly, when I had rather heare our brindled curre howle, or Sow grunt. They must be breaking of jests with a murraine, when I had as live heare 'em breake wind Sir reverence! My zonne Dick is a pretty Bookish Scholar of his age, God blesse him; he can write and read, and makes bonds, and bills, and hobligations, God save all. But by'r lady, if I wotted it would make him such a Iacksauce, as to have more wit then his vore-vathers, he should have learn'd nothing for old Agroicus, but to keepe a Tally. There is a new trade

lately come up to be a vocation, I wis not what; they call 'em—Boets, a new name for Beggars I think, since the statute against Gypsies. I would not have my zon Dick one of those Boets for the best Pig in my styeby the mackins: Boets? heau'n shield him, and zend him to be a good Varmer; if he can cry hy, ho, gee, hut, gee, ho, it is better I trow then being a Poet. Boets? I had rather zee him remitted to the jayle, and haue his twelve God-vathers, good men and true contemne him to the Gallowes; and there see him vairely perse∣cuted. There is Bomolochus one of these Boets, now a bots take all the red-nose tribe of 'em for Agroicus! he does so abuse his betters! well 'twas a good world, when I virst held the Plow!

Col.

They car'd not then so much for speaking well As to mean honest, and in you still lives The good simplicity of the former times: When to doe well was Rhetorique, not to talke. The tongue disease of Court spreads her infections Through the whole Kingdome, flattery, that was wont To be confin'd within the virge, is now Grown Epidemicall, for all our thoughts Are borne between our lips: The heart is made A stranger to the tongue; as if it us'd A language that she never understood. What is it to be witty in these daies, But to be bawdy, or prophane, at least Abusive? Wit is grown a petulant waspe, And stings she knows not whom, nor where, nor why; Spues vinegar, and gall on all she meets

Without distinction—buyes laughter with the losse Of reputation, father, kinsman, friend; Hunts Ord'naries only to deliver The idle Timpanies of a windy braine, That beats and throbs above the paine of child-bed, Till every eare she meets be made a mid wife To her light Bastard-issue, how many times Bomolochus sides, and shoulders ake, and groane! Hee's so witty—here he comes—away—

Agro.

His wit is dangerous and I dare not stay.

Exit.

SCEN. 5.

• Bomolocus.

Rosc.

This is the other extreame of Vrbanity; Bomolocus a fellow conceited of his own wit, though indeed it be no∣thing but the base dreggs of scandall, and a lumpe of most vile and loathsome scurrility.

Bird.

I, this is he we lookt for all the while! Scurrility! here she hath her impious throne, Here lies her heathenish dominion, In this most impious cell of corruption; For 'tis a Purgatory, a meerc Limbo, Where the black Divell and her damme Scurrility Doe rule the rost; fowle Princes of the aire! Scurrility! that is he that throweth scandalls, Soweth, and throweth scandalls, as 'twere durt Even in the face of holinesse, and devotion. His presence is contagious, like a dragon He belches poison forth, poison of the pit,

Brimstone, hellish and sulphureous poyson: I will not stay, but fly as farre as zeale Can hurry me—the roofe will fall and braine me, If I endure to heare his blasphemies, His gracelesse blasphemies.

Rosc.

He shall vent none here; But stay, and see how justly we have us'd him.

Flow.

Stay brother, I doe find the spirit grow strong.

Col.

Haile sacred wit!—Earth breeds not Baies enough To crowne thy spatious merit.

Bomo.

Oh—Oh—Oh.

Col.

Cratinus, Eupolis, Aristophanes, Or whatsoever other wit did give Old Comedies the raines, and let her loose To stigmatize what brow she pleas'd with slander Of people, Prince, Nobility—All must yeeld To this Triumphant braine!

Bomo.

Oh—Oh—Oh.

Col.

They say you'l loose a friend before a jest; 'Tis true, there's not a jest that comes from you, That is the true Minerva of this braine, But is of greater value then a world Of friends, were every prayre of men we meet A Pylades and Orestes.

Bomo.

Oh—Oh—Oh.

Col.

Some say you will abuse your Father too, Rather then loose the opinion of your wit; Who would not that has such a wit as yours? 'Twere better twenty Parents were expos'd To scorne and laughter, then the simplest thought

Or least conceit of yours, should dye abortive, Or perish a braine-Embrio.

Bomo.

Oh—oh—oh.—

Col.

How's this? that tongue growne silent that syrens Stood still to admire?

Bomo.

Oh—oh—oh.—

Cola.

Twere better that the spheares should loose their harmony, And all the Choristers of the wood grow hoarse! What wolfe hath spied you first?

Bomo.

Oh—oh—oh—

Cola.

Sure Hermes envying that there was on earth An eloquence more then his, has struck you dumb! Malitious deitie!

Bomo.

Oh—oh—oh-oh.—

Cola.

Goe in sir there's a Glasse that will restore That tongue, whose sweetnesse Angels might adore.

Bomo.

Oh—oh—oh—oh—oh—oh—.oh—

Exit.

Rosc.

Thus Sir you see how we have put a gagge In the licentious mouth of base scurrility; He shall not Ibis-like purge upward here, To infect the place with pestilentiall breath; Wee'le keepe him tongue-tide; you and all I pro∣mise By Phoebus and his daughters, whose chast zones Were never yet by impure hands untied Our language shall flow chast, nothing sound here That can give just offence to a strict eare.

Bird.

This gagge hath wrought my good opinion of you

Flow.

I begin to think 'em lawfull recreations.

Cclax.

Now there's none left here, wheron to practise, I'le flatter my deare selfe—o that my skill Had but a body, that I might embrace it, Kisse it; and hugge it, and beget a brood, Another brood of pretty skills upon it! Were I divided I would hate all beauties, And grow enamour'd with my other halfe! Selfe-love, Narcissus, had not been a fault, Hadst thou, instead of such a beauteous face, Had but a braine like mine: I can guild vice, And praise it into Alchymie, till it goe For perfect gold, and cozen almost the touchstone. I can perswade a toad into an oxe, Till swel'd too bigge with my Hyperboles She burst a sunder; and 'tis vertues name Lends me a maske to scandalize herselfe. Vice, if it be no more, can nothing doe; That art is great makes vertue guilty too. I have such strange varieties of colours, Such shift of shapes, blew Proteus sure begot me On a Camelion, and I change so quick That I suspect my mother did conceive me, As they say Mares doe, on some wind or other. I'le peepe to see how many fooles I made With a report of a miraculous Glasse. —Heaven blesse me, I am ruin'd! o my braine Witty to my undoing, I have jested My selfe to an eternall misery. I see le•…•…ne hunger with her meager face

Ride poast to overtake me, I doe prophesie A Lent immortall: Phoebus I could curse Thee and thy brittle gifts, Pandora's box Compar'd with this might be esteem'd a blessing. The Glasse which I conceiv'd a fabulous humour Is to the height of wonder prov'd a truth. The two Extreames of every Vertue there Beholding how they either did exceed, Or want of just proportion, joyn'd together, And are reduc'd into a perfect Meane: As when the skilfull and deep learn'd Physitian Does take two different poisons, one that's cold The other in the same degree of heate, And blend's them both to make an Antidote; Or as the Lutanist takes Flats and Sharpes, And out of those so dissonant notes, does strike A ravishing Harmony. Now there is no vice 'Tis a hard world for Colax: What shift now? Dyscolus doth expect me—since this age Is growne too wise to entertaine a Parasite, I'le to the Glasse, and there turne vertuous too, Still strive to please, though not to flatter you.

Bird.

There is good use indeed-la to be made From their Conversion.

Flow.

Very good insooth—la And edifying.

Rosci.

Give your eyes some respite. You know already what our Vices be, In the next Act you shall our Vertues see.

Exeunt.

ACTVS▪ V.

SCEN. 1.

• Roscius.
• Flowrdew.
• Bird.

Flow.

Now verily I find the devout Bee May suck the hony of good Doctrine thence, And beare it to the hive of her pure family, Whence the prophane and irreligious spider Gathers her impious Venome! I have pick'd Out of the Garden of this Play, a good And wholesome salad of instruction! What doe you next present?

Rosci.

The severall Vertues.

Bird.

I hope there be no Cardinall Vertues there!

Rosci.

There be not.

Bird.

Then I'le stay; I hate a Vertue That will be made a Cardinall: Cardinall vertues, Next to Pope-vertues, are most impious; And Bishop-vertues are unwarrantable: I will allow of none but Deacon-vertues, Or Elder-vertues.

Rosci.

These are Morall vertues.

Bird.

Are they Lay-vertues?

Rosci.

Yes!

Bird,

Then they are lawfull, Vertues in Orders are unsanctified.

Rosci.

We doe present them royall, as they are In all their state, in a full dance.

Bird.

What dance? No wanton Iig I hope, no dance is lawfull But Prinkam Prankam!

Flow.

Will Vertues dance? I hate a Vertue in a Morrice-dance! O vile, absurd, may pole—maid-marrian vertue

Rosci.

Dancing is lawfull.

• Flourish.

Enter Mediocritie.

Flow.

Who's this?

Rosc.

It is the mother of the Vertues.

Flow.

Mother of Pearle I thinke, she is so gawdy

Rosci.

It is the golden Mediocritie.

Flow.

She looketh like the Idoll of Cheap-side.

• Mediocritie.

Med.

I am that even course that must be kept To shunne two dangerous gulfes; the middle tract 'Twixt Scylla and Charibdis; the small Isthmus That suffers not the' Aegean tide to meet The violent rage of the Ionian wave. I am a bridge o'rean Impetuous sea; Free, and safe passage to the wary step! But he whose wantonnesse, or folly dares Decline to either side falls desperate Into a cetaine ruine.—Dwell with me, Whose mansion is not plac'd so neare the Sunne, As to complaine of's neighbourhood, and be scorch'd With his directer beames: nor so remote From his bright rayes as to be situate Vnder the Icy Pole of the cold Beare; But in a temperate zone: 'tis I am she, I am the golden Mediocritie: The labour of whose wombe are all the vertues,

And every passion too commendable: Sisters so like themselves, as if they were All but one birth; no difference to distinguish them But a respect they beare to severall objects: Else had their names beene one as are their features. So when eleven faire Virgins of a blood All Sisters, and alike growne ripe of yeares, Match into severall houses, from each family, Each takes a name distinct, and all are different'd! They are not of complexion red or pale, But a sweet mixture of the flesh and blood, As if both roses were confounded there. Their stature neither Dwarfe nor •…•…yantish, But in a comely well dispos'd proportion! And all so like their mother, that indeed They are all mine, and I am each of them. When in the midst of dangers I stand up A wary confidence betwixt feare and daring, Not so ungodly bold as not to be Fearefull of heav'ns just anger when she speaks In prodigies, and tremble at the hazard Of my Religion, shake to see my Country Threatned with fire and sword, be a stark coward To any thing may blast my reputation: But I can scorne the worst of poverty, Sicknesse, Captivity, Banishment, Grim death, If she dare meete me in the bed of honour; Where, with my Countries cause upon my sword Not edg'd with hope or anger, nor made bold With civill blood, or customary danger;

Nor the fooles whetstone, Inexperience; I can throw valour as a lightning from me, And then I am the Amazon fortitude! Give me the moderate cup of lawfull pleasures, And I am Temperance. Take me wealths just steward, And call me Liberality; with one hand I'le gather riches home, and with the other Rightly distribute 'em, and there observe The persons, quantity, quality, time and place: And if in great expences I be set Chiefe Arbitresse, I can in glorious workes, As raising Temples, Statues, Altars, shrines Vestures, and ornaments to Religion, be Neither too thrifty nor too prodigall. And to my country the like meane observe, In building Ships, and Bulwarkes, Castles, walls Conducts, Theaters, and what else may serve her For use or ornament: And at home be royall In Buildings, Gardens, costly furniture, In entertainments free and hospitable, With a respect to my estate, and meanes, And then I may be nam'd Magnificence; As Magnanimity, when I wisely aime At greatest honours, if I may deserve'm, Not for ambition, but for my Countryes good, And in that vertue all the rest doe dwell. In lesser dignities I want a name; And when I am not over patient, To put up such grosse wrongs as call me coward, But can be angry, yet in that observe

What cause hath mov'd my anger, and with whom, Looke that it be not suddaine, nor too thirsty Of a revenge, nor violent, nor greater Then the offence, know my time when, where I must be angry, and how long remaine so; Then then you may surname me Mans•…•…ude. When in my carriage and discourse I keepe The meane that neither flatters nor offends, I am that vertue the well nurtur'd Court Gives name, and should doe being—Courtesy. Twixt fly dissembling and proud arrogance I am the vertue time calls daughter, Truth. Give me my sword and ballance rightly swayd, And Iustice is the Title I deserve. When on this stage I come with innocent wit, And jests that have more of the sait then gall, That move the laughter and delight of all, Without the griefe of one, free, chast conceits, Not scurrile, base, obscene, ill•…•…berall Or contumelious slanders, I am then The vertue they have term'd, Vrbanity: To whom if your least countenance may appeare. She vowes to make her constant dwelling here. My daughters now are come—

The Song—SCEN. 2.

The Masque, wherein all the Vertues dance together.

Medi•…•….

You have seene all my daughters, Gentlemen,

Chuse you wives hence; you that are Batchelors Can finde no better; And the married too May wed 'em, yet not wrong their former wives. Two may have the same wife, and the same man May wed two Vertues, yet no Bigamie: He that weds most is chastest; These are all The daughters of my wombe; I have five more, The happy Issue of my Intellect, And thence syrnam'd the intellectuall Vertues. They now attend not on their Mothers train, We hope they Act in each spectators braine! I have a Necce besides, a beauteous one My daughters deare companion—louely Friendship A royall Nymph; her we present not to, It is a vertue we expect from you.

Exit cum Chorocantantium.

SCEN. 3.

Bird.

O Sister what a glorious traine they be!

Flow

They seeme to mee the Family of Love, But is there such a Glasse; good Roscius?

Rosci.

There is! sent hither by the great Apollo, Who in the worlds bright eye and every day Set in his Car of light, survaies the earth From East to West: who finding every place Fruitfull in nothing but fantastique follies, And most ridiculous humors, as he is The God of Physique, thought it appertain'd To him to finde a cure to purge the earth Of ignorance and sinne, two grand diseases,

And now grown Epidemicall: many Receits He thought upon, as to have planted Hellebore In every Garden—But none pleas'd like this. He takes out water from the Muses spring, And sends it to the North, there to be freez'd Into a Christall—That being done, he makes, A Mirror with it: and instills this vertue, That it should by reflection shew each man All his deformities both of soule and body. And cure 'em both—

Flow.

Good Brother lets goe see it! Saints may want something of perfection.

Rosc.

The Glasse is but of one daies continuance, For Pluto, thinking if it should cure all, His Kingdome would grow empty, (for 'tis sin That Peoples hell) went to the fates and bid 'em Spin it too short a thred: (for every thing As well as man is measur'd by their spindle.) They, as they must obey, gave it a thread No longer then the Beast's of Hyppanis That in one day is spun, drawne out, and cut. But Phoebus to require the black Gods envy, Will when the Glasse is broke transfuse her vertue To live in Comedy—If you meane to see it Make hast—

Flow.

We will goe post to reformation.

Exeunt.

Ros.

Nor is the Glasse of so short life I feare As this poore labour—our distrustfull Author Thinkes the same Sun that rose upon her cradle Will hardly set before her funerall:

Your gratious and kind acceptance may Keepe her alive from death, or when shees dead Raise her again, and spin her a new thread.

SCEN. 4.

Enter Flowrdew and Bird.

Flow.

This ignorance even makes religion sin, Sets zeale upon the rack, and stretches her Beyond her length—Most blessed Looking-glass•…•… That didst instruct my blinded eyes to day, I might have gone to hell the Narrow-way!

Bird.

Hereafter I will visit Comedies, And see them oft, they are good exercises!— I'le teach devotion now a milder temper, Not that it shall loose any of her heat Or Purity, but henceforth shall be such As shall burne bright although not blaze so much.

Exe•…•…nt.