Albumazar A comedy presented before the Kings Maiestie at Cambridge, the ninth of March. 1614. By the Gentlemen of Trinitie Colledge.

ACT. 2. SCEN. 4.

TRINCALO. CRICCA.

TRIN.

O what a businesse 'tis to be transform'd! My master talkes of foure and twenty houres, But if I mue these Flagges of Yeomanry, Guild in the seare, and shine in bloome of gentry, 'Tis not their Strology, nor Sacrifice, Shall force mee cast that coat. I'le neuer part with't Till I be Shriefe of th'Countie, and in commission Of Peace and Quorum. Then will I get m'a Clarke, A practiz'd fellow, wiser then my Worship.

And dominere amongst my fearefull neighbours, And feast them bountifully with their owne bribes.

CR.

Trincalo!

TRI.

Weare a gold chaine at euery quarter Sessions, Looke big, and graue, and speak not one wise word.

CR.

Trincalo!

TRI.

Examine wenches got with child, and curiously Search all the circumstances: haue blank Mittimusses Printed in readinesse; breathe nought but Sirra, Rogue, ha? how? hum? Constable looke to your charge. Then vouch a Statute and a Latine Sentence, Wide from the matter.

CR.

Trincalo.

TR.

License all Alehouses, Match my sonne Transformation t'a knights daughter, And buy a bouncing Pedigree of a welsh Heralt: and then—

CRI.

What in such serious meditations?

TRI.

Faith no; but building Castles in the aire. While th'weather's fit: O Cricca, such a businesse!

CRI.

What is't?

TRI.

Nay soft, th'are secrets of my master. Lock't in my breast: he has the key at's purse-strings.

CRI.

My masters secret? keep it good Farmer, keep it, I would not lend an eare to't if thou'dst hire me. Fare-well.

TRI.

O how it boyles and swels: if I keep't longer, 'Twill grow t'impostume in my breast, and choake me, Cricca.

CRI.

Adieu good Trincalo, the secrets of our betters Are dangerous, I dare not know't.

TRI.

But hear'st thou, Say I should tell, canst keep't as close as I doe?

CRI.

Yes: but I had rather want it. Adieu.

TRI.

Albumazar.

CR.

Farewell.

TR.

Albumazar.

CR.

Pre'thee.

TR.

Albumazar Th'Astrologer hath vnder-tooke to change me T'Antonio's shape: this done, must I giue Flauia To my old master, and his maid to Trincalo.

CR.

But where's Pandolfo and Albumazar?

TR.

Gone newly home to choose a chamber fitting For transmutation: So now my heart's at ease.

CR.

I feare the skill and cunning of Albumazar With his blacke Art, by whom Pandolfo seekes To compasse Flauia, spight of her brother Lelio, And his own sonne Eugenio that loues her deerely. I'le loose no time, but find them and reveale

The plot and worke to crosse this accident. But Trincalo, art thou so rash and ventrous To be transform'd with hazard of thy life?

TRI.

What care I for a life, that haue a lease For three? But I am certaine there's no danger in't.

CRI.

No danger? cut thy finger and that paines thee; Then what wil't do to shred and mince thy carkasse, Bury't in horse-dung, mould it new, and turne it T'Antonio? and when th'art chang'd, if Lelio Smell out your plot, what worlds of punishment Thou must endure, poore Trincalo! The desire Of gaines abuses thee: be not transform'd.

TRI.

Cricca thou vnderstandst not: for Antonio Whom I resemble, suffers all: not I.

CRI.

Yonder they come, I'le hence and hast to Lelio.