The schoole of complement· As it vvas acted by her Maiesties Seruants at the Priuate house in Drury Lane. By I.S.

Scena prima.

Enter Antonio and Gasparo.

Antonio.

SIrra, this Welshman is in loue with my sister Selina, and hath chosen me for his Prolocutor.

Gasp.

O! this Loue will make vs all mad, thou knowest I lou'd a ••ifter of thine once, but heauen knowes where she is, I thinke she lou'd me too, dost thinke she did not?

Gasp.

Well, thy father has reason to curse himselfe, be∣side some that she and I haue.

Ant.

Nay, nay, thou't fall into passion againe, when things are past recouery, 'twas a good wench, but come, prethee leaue to thinke on her.

Gasp.

Nay, I ha done, what shal's doe?

Ant.

Any thing but talke of State matters: thou hast much intelligence in the world, prethee whats the newes abroad? I come forth a purpose to heare some, and this is an age of nouelties.

Gasp.

Newes? O excellent newes!

Ant.

Prethee what ist? I long to heare some.

Gasp.

There is no newes at all.

Ant.

Call you that excellent newes?

Gasp.

Is it not good newes, that there is no bad newes? the truth is, the newes-maker Master Money-lacke is sicke of a consumption of the wit.

Ant.

The newes-maker? why, is there any newes-maker?

Gasp.

Oh sir, how should younger brothers haue main∣tained themselues, that haue trauelled, and haue the names of Countreyes, and Captaines without booke, as perfect as their prayers, I and perfecter too? for I thinke there is more probability of forgetting their prayers, they say them so seldome; I tell you sir, I haue knowne a Gen∣tleman that has spent the best part of a thousand pound, while he was prentice to the trade in Holland, and out of three sheetes of paper, which was his whole stocke, a pen and inke-horne he borrowed, hee set vp shop, and spent a hundred pound a yeere vpon his whore, and found sheetes for them both to lye in too: it has beene a great profession; mary most commonly they are Souldiers: a peace concluded, is a great plague vnto 'em, and if the warres hold, we shall haue store of them; O, they are men worthy of commendations, they speake in print.

Ant.

Are they Souldiers?

Gasp.

Faith so they would be thought, though indeed they are but mungrels, not worthy of that noble attribute; they are indeed bastards, not sonnes of warre and true Souldiers, whose diuine soules I honour, yet they may be cald great spirits too, for their valour is inuisible, these I say will write you a battell in any part of Europe at an houres warning, and yet neuer set foot out of a Tauerne, describe you Towns, Fortifications, Leaders, the strength a'th enemies, what Confederates, euery dayes march, not a Souldier shall lose a haire▪ or haue a bullet fly betweene

his Armes, but hee shall haue a Page to waite on him in quarto, nothing destroyes 'em but want of a good memo∣ry, for if they escape contradiction, they may be chroni∣cled.

Ant.

Why, thou art wise enough to be an Informer.

Gasp.

I mary, now you speake of a Trade indeed, the very Atlas of a State Politicke, the Common-shore of a City, nothing falls amisse vnto 'em, and if there bee no filth in the Common-wealth can liue by honesty, and yet be knaues by their priuiledge, there is not an oath but they will haue money for it!

Ant.

Oh braue Trade.

Gasp.

They can eat men aliue and digest 'em, they haue their conscience in a string, and can stifle it at their plea∣sure, the Deuils iourneymen, set vp for themselues, and keepe a damnation house of their owne; indeed they sel∣dome proue Aldermen, yet they are taken for Knights e∣uery day a'th weeke, when they ride post, they haue the art of insinuation, and speake writs familiarly, they are Agents as I haue heard for the Deuill in their life time, and if they dye in their bed, haue this priuiledge, to be sonnes of hell by adoption, and take place of Seriants.

Enter Infortunio and Selina.

Gasp.

Stay. Who's there? thy sister and Infortunio: let's obserue.

Infor.

I must haue other answer, for I must loue you.

Sil.

Must? but I doe not see any necessity that I should loue you, I doe confesse you are a proper man.

Infor.

O doe not mocke Selina, let not excellence Which you are full of, make you proud and scornefull, I am a Gentleman, though my outward part Cannot attract affection, yet some haue told me, Nature hath made me what she need not shame, Yet looke into my heart, there you shall see What you cannot despise, for there you are

With all your graces waiting on you, there Loue hath made you a Throne to sit, and rule Ore 〈◊〉〈◊〉, all my thoughts obeying And honouring you as Queene, passe by my outside: My br••st I dare compare with any man.

Sil.

〈…〉〈…〉 can see this br••st you 〈◊〉〈◊〉 of so?

Infor.

Oh ••'tis an easie worke, for though it be Not to be pearced by the dull 〈◊〉〈◊〉 who•••• beame Is spent on outward shapes, th••r•• is a way To make a search into hiddenst passage. I know you would not loue to please your sense: A Tree that beares a ragged vnleau'd top In depth of Winter, may when Summer comes Speake by his fruit, he is not dead but youthfull, Though once he shew'd no sap: my heart's a plant Kept downe by colder thoughts, and doubtfull feares, Your frownes like Winter stormes make it seeme dead, But yet it is not so, make it but yours, And you shall see it spring, and shoot forth leaues Worthy your eye, and the oppressed sap Ascend to euery part to make it greene, And pay your loue with fruit when Haruest comes. If my affection be suspected, make Experience of my loyalty, by some seruice Though full of danger, you shall know me better, And so discerne the truth of what you see not.

Sil.

Then you confesse your loue is cold as yet, And Winter's in you heart.

Infor.

Mistake me not, Silena, for I say My heart is cold, not loue.

Sel.

And yet your loue is from your heart Ile warrant.

Infor.

Oh you are nimble to mistake, My heart is cold in your displeasures onely, And yet my loue is feruent, for your eye Casting out beames, maintaines the flame it burnes in. Againe, sweete Loue,

My heart is not mine owne, 'tis yours, you haue it, And while it naked lyes, not dain'd your bosome To keepe it warme, how can it be but cold, In danger to be frozen? blame not it, You onely are in fault it hath no heate.

Sel.

Well sir, I know you haue Rethoricke, but I Can without art giue you a finall answer.

Infor.

Oh stay, and thinke a while, I cannot relish You should say finall, sweet, deliberate, It doth concerne all the estate I haue, I meane not dunghill treasure, but my life Doth stand or fall to it, if your answer be That you can loue me, be it swift as lightning, But if you meane to kill me, and reiect My so long loue-deuotions, which I haue pay'd As to an Altar, stay a little longer, And let me count the riches I shall lose▪ By one poore aëry word, first giue me backe That part of Infortunio that is lost Within your loue, play not the Tyrant with me.

Sel.

Y'are ouer-weake to let your passions sway you: If I knew any thing I had of yours, I would not doe you that iniustice, sir, To let it stay with me, and for your loue I cannot pay it backe againe with mine, Either release the debt, or I shall dye in't, Your suite is fruitlesse, hopelesse, pardon me, farewell.

Ant.

Now by all my hopes you are to blame, sister, come, this Gentleman deserues your loue, Infortunio.

Sel.

Brother, you forget your selfe.

Ant.

Why, I doe remember I am your brother, I say you must loue him.

Sel.

Must?

Ant.

What, does that moue your spirit? what are you, but you may loue? be not petulant, y'are a baggage and not worthy of a man, by heauen I now could kick her.

Exit.

Gasp.

Thy tother sister was of calmer temper, this a true woman.

Infor.

Sir, had not nature made you brother to her, I should be angry.

Exit

Ant.

Alas poore Gentleman, I doe not feele my selfe in such an humour for Hilaria, and yet by this hand I loue her well enough, and now I thinke on't, I promis'd her my company, she has a damnable vsurious stinking wretch to her father, that cannot abide me, but 'tis no matter, this wench and I may find a place to meete in, in spight of his eyes and spectacles. How now Gorgon, what sayes she?

Enter Gorgon.

Gorg.

Sir, I haue done your remembrances to Mistris Hilaria, and told her you should find her comming by and by, but you were best passe in some obscurity, for her fa∣ther Rufaldo is hard by sir. Lupus in Fabula.

Enter Rufaldo.

Ant.

Gasparo, and thou loue me, shew thy wit to enter∣taine this piece of blacke Dammaske and Veluet guards, while I goe in to Hilaria.

Ruf.

Old men are the truest louers, young men are in∣constant and wag with euery wind, we neuer moue, but are as true as steele.

Gor.

But in womens matters as weake as water, as weake as water.

Ruf.

Besides, sweet Loue, but doe I court a shadow? to see whither loue will carry a man: let me see, I could find in my heart to bestow a ring vpon my Sweet-heart, but that I am loth to part with it: hem, I will get but one childe, and that shall be a boy, lest hauing too many children, I vn∣doe my heire, and my goods be deuided. O sweet Selina, O amiable Selina; sure I am not old.

Gor.

I haue it, Signior Gasparo, pray let me begin with my Merchant if you loue me, and if yo•• 〈◊〉〈◊〉 it, second me.

Gasp.

Goe to Gorg••n, let's see thy w••••••ow.

Ruf.

Old men walke with a staffe, and creepe along the

streets, hold their heads below their girdle, faulter in their speech, foame at mouth, and breathe ten times in a fur∣long, and are ready to spit their lungs on euery mans thre∣shold.

Gorg.

God saue you sir.

Ruf.

God a mercy honest Gorgon.

Gor.

I crie you mercie sir, Ile assure you sir, I tooke you for Master Rufaldo the old Merchant.

Ruf.

Why, and••am not I? is not the fellow drunke? I am Rufaldo.

Gor.

It may be some kin to him, but not that Rufaldo I meane, you are younger a faire deale.

Ruf.

I am that Rufaldo, the Merchant, that buried my wife lately, and haue one daughter Hilaria, ancient ac∣quaintance with Cornelio and your Master Antonio.

Gor.

Oh sir, you must excuse me for that.

Ruf.

Is thy name Gorgon?

Gor.

What else sir, honest Gorgon I?

Ruf.

Doe I know thee to be Gorgon? what, shall I be fac'd out of my selfe? why thou varlet, who am I, if not Ru∣faldo?

Gor.

Why sir, 'tis plaine, you haue no gray haires in your head, your cheeke is scarlet, a wanton youthfull eye; Ru∣faldo had a head like frost, his eyes sunke into his hollows, a rugged brow, a hoarie beard, and all his body not worth a drop of blood, a very crazie old meale-mouth'd Gentle∣man, you are younger at least by thirty yeeres.

Ruf.

Ile assure thee I was Rufaldo, when I rose in the morning.

Gor.

You haue not slept since, haue you?

Ruf.

No.

Gor.

'Tis the more strange. I haue heard of some that haue beene changed in a dreame, but neuer waking before: this is strange, nay admirable!

Ruf.

Young, chang'd, art sure thou dost not mocke?

Gor.

I were a very knaue then, if you be Rufaldo, I hope

your worship knowes I haue beene bound to my good be∣hauiour.

Ruf.

Altered young, ha! I would I were; and yet me thinks I am liuelier then I was, I feele my ioynts plyable as waxe, and my voyce is stronger too. But tell me, honest Gor∣gon, is it possible for an old man to be young againe?

Gor.

Nay, I see youle not beleeue me: well sir, I will be bold to report the wonder abroad, and astonish all your friends.

Ruf.

Nay, stay, honest Gorgon, ha! young, no gray haires? stay, who's here?

Exit Gorgon.

Gasp.

Ha! 'tis not he, Ile speake to him, no 'tis in vaine, Ile see if he knowes me.—He passes by.

Ruf.

Gasparo! what, does not he know me too?

Gasp.

Sir, I should know you, are you not Signior Pe∣trucchio, the dancing Master?

Ruf.

Tricks, passages, I am Rufaldo, old Rufaldo.

Gasp.

Rufaldo indeed is old, but you are young, you doe retaine his countenance, I would sweare you were he, but you are younger farre.

Ruf.

'Tis so, I am chang'd, I am younger then I was, I am that Rufaldo, beleeue, I know you to be a learned Gen∣tleman, nam'd Gasparo, I was told afore I was altered, but not to trouble you with many questions, onely one, Gas∣paro, is it a thing possible for an old man to be young againe? I know 'tis admirable, but is it possible? you are a Schol∣ler.

Gasp.

Possible? oh yes, ••theres no question, for we see by experience, Stagges cast their old hornes, and proue vigorous, Snakes cast off their old coates, Eagles renew their age, your plants doe it familiarly, the Phoenix when she is old, burnes herselfe to ashes, from thence reuiues a young Phoenix againe. Possible? I haue heard some old men haue beene twice children sir,—therefore' this not impossible.

Ruf.

Tis very strange: I am not yet confident.

Gasp.

There be receites in Physicke, sir, to keepe them young, sauing that time runnes on a little beforehand with em: yes, and to make young, since it is harder to make aliue when they are dead, then to make young when they are aliue, and Physicke doth reuiue some out of all question, though not so familiarly as kill, for that they doe with a little study; mary I thinke, if it were as gainefull to the Phisicion to restore as to destroy, hee would practise the Art of recouery very faithfully.

Ruf.

Why, doe you thinke it would not proue as gaine∣full?

Gasp.

Oh! by no meanes, for where an old man would giue a hundred pound, to haue forty or fifty yeeres wiped off the old score of his life, his wife or next heire would ioyne rather then faile, to out-bid him halfe on't, to put him out of debt quite, and to send his old leaking vessell into mare mortuum.

Ruf.

Well, well, but if I bee young, I haue tooke no Physicke for't.

Gasp.

If nay, 'tis past if, and, and too, you are certainly restor'd, let me see, you looke like one of foure, or sixe and thirty, not a minute aboue, and so much a man may take you for.

Ruf.

Well, I know not what to say too't, there is some power in loue has blest me: now Selina, be thou gracious.

Gasp.

Are you in loue? nay, the w••der is not so great; who can expresse the power of Loue? I haue read of a Painter named Pigmalion, that made the Picture of a womā so to the life, that he fell in loue with it, courted it, lay in bed with it, and by power of Loue, it became a soft-natur'd wench indeed, and he begot I know not how many children of her. Well sir, Selina cannot choose but be mad for you.

Ruf.

Not mad, Gasparo, I would be loth to be troubled with her and she be mad.

Gasp.

Yes, and shee be mad in loue, there is no harme in't, she cannot be too mad in loue, your Cornucopia may be

••bated at pleasure, besides sir, the best morall men say, Loue it selfe is a madnesse, and the madder your wife is, the more sure you may be she loues you.

Ruf.

No, no, I loue no madnesse on any condition, for feare of being horne-mad.

Gasp.

Why sir, madnesse is not such a discredit, as the age goes: you know there are many mad fashions, and what man but some times may be mad? are not your great men mad, that when they haue enough, will pawne their soule for a Monopolie? besides mad Lords, what doe you thinke of Ladies at some time of the Moone, you may spell em in their names, Maddame? you haue mad Courtiers, that run madding after Citizens wi••es: the Citizens are mad too, to trust em with their wares, who haue beene so deepe in their wiues bookes before: your Iustice of Peace is some times mad too, for when he may see well enough, he will suffer any man to put out his eye with a bribe: some Law∣yers are often starke-mad, and talke wildly, no man is able to endure their Tearmes.

Ruf.

Prethee mad-cap leaue, I am almost mad to heare thee.

Gasp.

Well, my old young Rufaldo, if you marry Selina, I shall haue a paire of gloues, I hope, and youle let mee dance at your wedding.

Ruf.

That thou shalt, boy, and Ile dance my selfe too, hey,—

Exit leaping.

Gasp.

Farewell credulitie; ha, ha, with what a greedi∣nesse doe old men run out of their wits? 'Twas a good re∣creation to see with what pleasure he suffered himselfe to be guld: faith Gasparo, play out thy hand, now thou art in: me thinkes I haue an excellent appetite to make my selfe merry with the simplicity of this age: let me see, 'tis Spring and, I meane to giue my head a purgation, it may beate off the remembrance of my lost Loue Felice: a pox of Melancholy, I will act two or three parts if I liue in spight of it, and if I die then

Exit Gasparo.

Enter Gorgon.

Gor.

Seignior Gasparo, my Master would speake with you: the proiect too▪ I met the Youth strutting like a Gen∣tleman Vsher, 'twas my inuention.

Gasp.

But I gaue it pollish, Gorgon.

Gorg.

I confesse, you tooke off the rough-cast, but 'twas Gorgons head brought forth the proiect, from my Ioues braine came this Minerua.

Gasp.

I thinke thou art a wit.

Gor.

Who, I a wit? I thought you ••ad 'more wit, then to make such a question, all the Towne takes me for a wit, heres a pate hath crakers in't and flashes.

Gasp.

And thou saist the word, weele ioyne in a proiect of wit, to make an Asse of the world a little, it shall make vs merry, if it take no other wayes, wo't ioyne?

Gor.

By this hand, any proiect of wit, what ist, good Gasparo? the proiect.

Gasp.

Canst be close?

Gor.

As mid-night to a Bawd, or a paire of Trusses to an Irish mans buttockes.

Gasp.

Goe to, thou shalt now then excuse me to thy Master, I will presently furnish my selfe with new lodg∣ings, and expect to heare from me shortly my brane Del∣phicke, I haue it in Embrio, and I shall soone be deliue∣red.

Gorg.

If I faile, call me Spider-catcher.

Exit.

Gasp.

Mum, not a word, if all hit right, we may Laugh all our melancholy thoughts away.

Exit.