A Select Collection of Old English Plays, Vol. IX - Various
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PHILOMUSUS.
A painful minute seems a tedious year.
STUDIOSO.
A constant mind eternal woes will bear.
PHILOMUSUS.
When shall our souls their wearied lodge forego?
STUDIOSO.
When we have tired misery and woe.
PHILOMUSUS.
Soon may then fates this gaol[66]-deliver send us: Small woes vex long,
[but] great woes quickly end us. But let's leave this capping of rhymes,
Studioso, and follow our late device, that we may maintain our heads in
caps, our bellies in provender, and our backs in saddle and bridle.
Hitherto we have sought all the honest means we could to live, and now
let us dare _aliqua brevibus gyris[67] et carcere dignum_; let us run
through all the lewd forms of lime-twig, purloining villanies; let us
prove coneycatchers, bawds, or anything, so we may rub out. And first my
plot for playing the French doctor--that shall hold; our lodging stands
here fitly[68] in Shoe Lane: for, if our comings-in be not the better,
London may shortly throw an old shoe after us; and with those shreds of
French that we gathered up in our host's house in Paris, we'll gull the
world, that hath in estimation foreign physicians: and if any of the
hidebound brethren of Cambridge and Oxford, or any of those stigmatic
masters of art that abused us in times pass'd, leave their own
physicians, and become our patients, we'll alter quite the style of
them; for they shall never hereafter write, Your lordship's most
bounden, but, Your lordship's most laxative.
STUDIOSO.
It shall be so: see what a little vermin poverty altereth a whole milky
disposition.
PHILOMUSUS.
So then myself straight with revenge I'll sate.[69]
STUDIOSO.
Provoked patience grows intemperate.
ACTUS I, SCAENA 5.
_Enter_ RICHARDETTO, JAQUES, _Scholar learning French_.
JAQUES.
How now, my little knave? Quelle nouvelle, monsieur?
RICHARDETTO.
There's a fellow with a nightcap on his head, an urinal in his hand,
would fain speak with Master Theodore.
JAQUES.
Parle Francois, mon petit garcon.
RICHARDETTO.[70]
Ici un homme, avec le bonnet de nuit sur la tete, et un urinal en la
main, que veut parler avec Maistre Theodore.
JAQUES.
Fort bien.
THEODORE.
Jaques, a bonne heure.
[_Exeunt_.
ACTUS I., SCAENA 6.
FUROR POETICUS; _and presently after enters_ PHANTASMA.
FUROR POETICUS, _rapt with contemplation_.
Why, how now, pedant Phoebus?[71] are you smouching Thaly on her tender
lips? There, hoi! peasant, avaunt! Come, pretty short-nosed nymph. O
sweet Thalia, I do kiss thy foot. What, Clio? O sweet Clio! Nay,
prythee, do not weep, Melpomene. What, Urania, Polyhymnia, and Calliope!
let me do reverence to your deities.
[PHANTASMA _pulls him by the sleeve_.
I am your holy swain that, night and day,
Sit for your sakes, rubbing my wrinkled brow,
Studying a month for a epithet.
Nay, silver Cynthia, do not trouble me;
Straight will I thy Endymion's story write,
To which thou hastest me on day and night.
You light-skirt stars, this is your wonted guise,
By gloomy light perk out your doubtful heads;
But when Dan[72] Phoebus shows his flashing snout,
You are sky-puppies;[73] straight your light is out.
PHANTASMA.
So ho, Furor!
Nay, prythee, good Furor, in sober sadness--
FUROR.
Odi profanum vulgus, et arceo.
PHANTASMA.
Nay, sweet Furor,--ipsae te, Tityre, pinus--
FUROR.
Ipsi te fontes, ipsa haec arbusta vocarunt.
Who's that runs headlong on my quill's sharp point,
That, wearied of his life and baser breath,
Offers himself to an Iambic verse?
PHANTASMA.
Si, quoties peccant homines, sua fulmina mittat
Jupiter, exiguo tempore inermis erit.
FUROR.
What slimy, bold, presumptuous groom[74] is he,
Dares with his rude, audacious, hardy chat
Thus sever me from sky-bred[75] contemplation?
PHANTASMA.
_Carmina vel coelo possunt deducere lunam_.
FUROR.
O Phantasma! what, my individual[76] mate?
PHANTASMA.
_O, mihi post nullos, Furor, memorande sodales_!
FUROR.
Say, whence comest thou? sent from what deity?
From great Apollo or sly Mercury?
PHANTASMA.
I come from the little Mercury Ingenioso: for,
_Ingenio pollet, cui vim natura negavit_.
FUROR.
Ingenioso?
He is a pretty inventor of slight prose;
But there's no spirit in his grov'lling speech.
Hang him, whose verse cannot outbelch the wind,
That cannot beard and brave Dan Aeolus;
That, when the cloud of his invention breaks,
Cannot outcrack the scarecrow thunderbolt.
Hang him, I say![77]
PHANTASMA.
_Pendo, pependi; tendo, tetendi; pedo, pepedi_. Will it please you,
Master Furor, to walk with me? I promise to bring you to a drinking-inn
in Cheapside, at the sign of the Nag's Head; for
_Tempore lenta pati fraena docentur equi_.
FUROR.
Pass thee before, I'll come incontinent.
PHANTASMA.
Nay, faith, Master Furor, let's go together, _quoniam convenimus ambo_.
FUROR.
Let us march on unto the house of fame;
There, quaffing bowls of Bacchus' blood full nimbly,
Indite a-tiptoe strutting poesy.
[_They offer the way one to the other_.
PHANTASMA.
_Quo me, Bacche, rapis tui plenum?
Tu major: tibi me est aequum parere, Menalca_.
ACTUS II., SCAENA 1.
_Enter_ PHILOMUSUS, THEODORE, _his patient, the_
BURGESS, _and his man with his staff_.
THEODORE.
[_Puts on his spectacles_.] Monsieur, here are _atomi natantes_, which
do make show your worship to be as lecherous as a bull.
BURGESS.
Truly, Master Doctor, we are all men.
THEODORE.
This vater is intention of heat: are you not perturbed with an ache in
your vace[78] or in your occipit? I mean your headpiece. Let me feel
the pulse of your little finger.
BURGESS.
I'll assure you, Master Theodore, the pulse of my head beats
exceedingly; and I think I have disturbed myself by studying the penal
statutes.
THEODORE.
Tit, tit, your worship takes care of your speeches.
_O, Curae leves loquuntur, ingentes stupent_: it is an aphorism in Galen.
BURGESS.
And what is the exposition of that?
THEODORE.
That your worship must take a gland, _ut emittatur sanguis_: the sign
is _fort_ excellent, _fort_ excellent.
BURGESS.
Good Master Doctor, use me gently; for, mark you, sir, there is a double
consideration to be had of me: first, as I am a public magistrate;
secondly, as I am a private butcher; and but for the worshipful credit
of the place and office wherein I now stand and live, I would not hazard
my worshipful apparel with a suppository or a glister: but for the
countenancing of the place, I must go oftener to stool; for, as a great
gentleman told me, of good experience, that it was the chief note of a
magistrate not to go to the stool without a physician.
THEODORE.
Ah, vous etes un gentilhomme, vraiment.--What, ho, Jaques! Jaques,
donnez-vous un fort gentil purgation for Monsieur Burgess.
JAQUES.
Votre tres-humble serviteur, a votre commandment.
THEODORE.
Donnez-vous un gentil purge a Monsieur Burgess.--I have considered of
the crasis and syntoma of your disease, and here is un fort gentil
purgation per evacuationem excrementorum, as we physicians use to
parley.
BURGESS.
I hope, Master Doctor, you have a care of the country's officer. I tell
you, I durst not have trusted myself with every physician; and yet I am
not afraid for myself, but I would not deprive the town of so careful a
magistrate.
THEODORE.
O Monsieur, I have a singular care of your _valetudo_. It is requisite
that the French physicians be learned and careful; your English
velvet-cap is malignant and envious.
BURGESS.
Here is, Master Doctor, fourpence--your due, and eightpence--my bounty.
You shall hear from me, good Master Doctor; farewell, farewell, good
Master Doctor.
THEODORE.
Adieu, good Monsieur; adieu, good sir Monsieur. _Exit_ BURGESS.
Then burst with tears, unhappy graduate;
Thy fortunes still wayward and backward been;
Nor canst thou thrive by virtue nor by sin.
STUDIOSO.
O, how it grieves my vexed soul to see
Each painted ass in chair of dignity!
And yet we grovel on the ground alone,
Running through every trade, yet thrive by none:
More we must act in this life's tragedy.
PHILOMUSUS.
Sad is the plot, sad the catastrophe.
STUDIOSO.
Sighs are the chorus in our tragedy.
PHILOMUSUS.
And rented thoughts continual actors be.[79]
STUDIOSO.
Woe is the subject, Phil.;[80] earth the loath'd stage
Whereon we act this feigned personage;
Most like[81] barbarians the spectators be,
That sit and laugh at our calamity.
PHILOMUSUS.
Bann'd be those hours when, 'mongst the learned throng,
By Granta's muddy bank we whilome sung!
STUDIOSO.
Bann'd be that hill, which learned wits adore,
Where erst we spent our stock and little store!
PHILOMUSUS.
Bann'd be those musty mews, where we have spent
Our youthful days in paled languishment!
STUDIOSO.
Bann'd be those cos'ning arts that wrought our woe,
Making us wand'ring pilgrims to and fro.
PHILOMUSUS.
And pilgrims must we be without relief;
And wheresoe'er we run, there meets us grief.
STUDIOSO.
Where'er we toss upon this crabbed stage,
Griefs our companion; patience be our page.
PHILOMUSUS.
Ah, but this patience is a page of ruth,
A tired lackey to our wand'ring youth!
ACTUS II., SCAENA 2.
ACADEMICO, _solus_.
Fain would I have a living, if I could tell how
to come by it. _Echo_. Buy it.
Buy it, fond Echo? why, thou dost greatly
mistake it. _Echo_. Stake it.
Stake it? what should I stake at this game of
simony? _Echo_. Money.
What, is the world a game? are livings gotten
by paying?[82] _Echo_. Paying.
Paying? But say, what's the nearest way to
come by a living? _Echo_. Giving.
Must his worship's fists be needs then oiled with
angels? _Echo_. Angels.
Ought his gouty fists then first with gold to be
greased? _Echo_. Eased.
And is it then such an ease for his ass's back to
carry money? _Echo_. Ay.
Will, then, this golden ass bestow a vicarage
gilded? _Echo_. Gelded.
What shall I say to good Sir Raderic, that have
no[83] gold here? _Echo_. Cold cheer.
I'll make it my lone request, that he would be
good to a scholar. _Echo_. Choler.
Yea, will he be choleric to hear of an art or a
science? _Echo_. Hence.
Hence with liberal arts? What, then, will he
do with his chancel? _Echo_. Sell.
Sell it? and must a simple clerk be fain to compound
then? _Echo_. Pounds then.
What, if I have no pounds? must then my suit
be prorogued? _Echo_. Rogued.
Yea? given to a rogue? Shall an ass this
vicarage compass? _Echo_. Ass.
What is the reason that I should not be as fortunate
as he? _Echo_. Ass he.
Yet, for all this, with a penniless purse will I
trudge to his worship. _Echo_. Words cheap.
Well, if he give me good words, it's more than I
have from an Echo. _Echo_. Go.
[_Exit_.
ACTUS II, SCAENA 3.
AMORETTO _with an Ovid in his hand_, IMMERITO.
AMORETTO.
Take it on the word of a gentleman, thou cannot have it a penny under;
think on it, think on it, while I meditate on my fair mistress--
_Nunc sequor imperium, magne Cupido, tuum_.
Whate'er become of this dull, threadbare clerk,
I must be costly in my mistress' eye:
Ladies regard not ragged company.
I will with the revenues of my chaffer'd church
First buy an ambling hobby for my fair,
Whose measur'd pace may teach the world to dance,
Proud of his burden, when he 'gins to prance.
Then must I buy a jewel for her ear,
A kirtle of some hundred crowns or more.
With these fair gifts when I accompani'd go,
She'll give Jove's breakfast; Sidney terms it so.
I am her needle, she is my adamant,
She is my fair rose, I her unworthy prick.
ACADEMICO.
Is there nobody here will take the pains to geld his mouth? [_Aside_.
AMORETTO.
She's Cleopatra, I Mark Antony.
ACADEMICO.
No, thou art a mere mark for good wits to shoot at: and in that suit
thou wilt make a fine man to dash poor crows out of countenance.
[_Aside_.
AMORETTO.
She is my Moon, I her Endymion.
ACADEMICO.
No, she is thy shoulder of mutton, thou her onion: or she may be thy
Luna, and thou her lunatic. [_Aside_.
AMORETTO.
I her Aeneas, she my Dido is.
ACADEMICO.
She is thy Io, thou her brazen ass,
Or she Dame Phantasy, and thou her gull;
She thy Pasiphae, and thou her loving bull.[84]
[_Aside_.
ACTUS II, SCAENA 4.
_Enter_ IMMERITO _and_ STERCUTIO, _his father_.
STERCUTIO.
Son, is this the gentleman that sells us the living?
IMMERITO.
Fie, father! thou must not call it selling: thou must say, Is this the
gentleman that must have the _gratuito_?
ACADEMICO.
What have we here? old truepenny come to town, to fetch away the living
in his old greasy slops? Then, I'll none: the time hath been when such a
fellow meddled with nothing but his ploughshare, his spade, and his
hobnails; and so to a piece of bread and cheese, and went his way. But
now these fellows are grown the only factors for preferment. [_Aside_.]
STERCUTIO.
O, is this the grating gentleman? And how many pounds must I pay?
IMMERITO.
O, thou must not call them pounds, but thanks. And, hark thou, father;
thou must tell of nothing that is done, for I must seem to come clear
to it.
ACADEMICO.
Not pounds, but thanks? See, whether this simple fellow that hath
nothing of a scholar, but that the draper hath blacked him over, hath
not gotten the style of the time. [_Aside_.]
STERCUTIO.
By my faith, son, look for no more portion.
IMMERITO.
Well, father, I will not--upon this condition, that when thou have
gotten me the _gratuito_ of the living, thou wilt likewise disburse a
little money to the bishop's poser;[85] for there are certain questions
I make scruple to be posed in.
ACADEMICO.
He means any question in Latin, which he counts a scruple. O. this
honest man could never abide this popish tongue of Latin. O, he is as
true an Englishman as lives. [_Aside_.]
STERCUTIO.
I'll take the gentleman, now he is in a good vein, for he smiles.
AMORETTO.
Sweet Ovid, I do honour every page.
ACADEMICO.
Good Ovid, that in his lifetime lived with the Getes; and now, after his
death, converseth with a barbarian. [_Aside_.]
STERCUTIO.
God be at your work, sir. My son told me you were the grating gentleman;
I am Stercutio his father, sir, simple as I stand here.
AMORETTO.
Fellow, I had rather given thee an hundred pounds than thou shouldst
have put me out of my excellent meditation: by the faith of a gentleman,
I was wrapp'd in contemplation.
IMMERITO.
Sir, you must pardon my father: he wants bringing up.
ACADEMICO.
Marry, it seems he hath good bringing up, when he brings up so much
money. [_Aside_.]
STERCUTIO.
Indeed, sir, you must pardon me; I did not know you were a gentleman of
the Temple before.
AMORETTO.
Well, I am content in a generous disposition to bear with country
education: but, fellow, what's thy name?
STERCUTIO.
My name, sir? Stercutio, sir.
AMORETTO.
Why then, Stercutio, I would be very willing to be the instrument to my
father, that this living might be conferred upon your son: marry, I
would have you know that I have been importuned by two or three several
lords, my kind cousins, in the behalf of some Cambridge man, and have
almost engaged my word. Marry, if I shall see your disposition to be
more thankful than other men, I shall be very ready to respect
kind-natured men; for, as the Italian proverb speaketh well, _chi ha,
havra_.
ACADEMICO.
Why, here is a gallant young drover of livings. [_Aside_.]
STERCUTIO.
I beseech you, sir, speak English; for that is natural to me and to my
son, and all our kindred, to understand but one language.
AMORETTO.
Why thus, in plain English, I must be respected with thanks.
ACADEMICO.
This is a subtle tractive, when thanks may be felt and seen. [_Aside_.]
STERCUTIO.
And I pray you, sir, what is the lowest thanks that you will take?
ACADEMICO.
The very same method that he useth at the buying of an ox. [_Aside_.]
AMORETTO.
I must have some odd sprinkling of an hundred pounds; if so, so--I shall
think you thankful, and commend your son as a man of good gifts to my
father.
ACADEMICO.
A sweet world! give an hundred pounds; and this is but counted
thankfulness! [_Aside_.]
STERCUTIO.
Hark thou, sir; you shall have eighty thanks.
AMORETTO.
I tell thee, fellow, I never opened my mouth in this kind so cheap
before in my life: I tell thee, few young gentlemen are found that would
deal so kindly with thee as I do.
STERCUTIO.
Well, sir, because I know my son to be a toward thing, and one that has
taken all his learning on his own head, without sending to the
university, I am content to give you as many thanks as you ask, so you
will promise me to bring it to pass.
AMORETTO.
I warrant you for that, if I say it once. Repair you to the place, and
stay there. For my father, he is walked abroad to take the benefit of
the air: I'll meet him, as he returns, and make way for your suit.
Gallant, i'faith.[86]
[_Exeunt_ STERCUTIO _and_ IMMERITO.
ACTUS II., SCAENA 5.
ACADEMICO, AMORETTO.
ACADEMICO.
I see, we scholars fish for a living in these shallow fords without a
silver hook. Why, would it not gall a man to see a spruce gartered youth
of our college, a while ago, be a broker for a living and an old bawd
for a benefice? This sweet sir preferred me much kindness when he was of
our college, and now I'll try what wind remains in his bladder. God save
you, sir.
AMORETTO.
By the mass, I fear me, I saw this _genus_ and _species_ in Cambridge
before now: I'll take no notice of him now. [_Aside_.] By the faith of a
gentleman, this is pretty elegy. Of what age is the day, fellow? Sirrah
boy, hath the groom saddled my hunting hobby? Can Robin hunter tell
where a hare sits? [_Soliloquising_.
ACADEMICO.
See a poor Old friend of yours of S---- College in Cambridge.
AMORETTO.
Good faith, sir, you must pardon me: I have forgotten you.
ACADEMICO.
My name is Academico, sir; one that made an oration for you once on the
Queen's day, and a show that you got some credit by.
AMORETTO.
It may be so, it may be so; but I have forgotten it. Marry, yet I
remember that there was such a fellow that I was beneficial unto in my
time. But, howsoever, sir, I have the courtesy of the town for you.
I am sorry you did not take me at my father's house; but now I am in
exceeding great haste, for I have vowed the death of a hare that we
found this morning musing on her meaze.
ACADEMICO.
Sir, I am emboldened by that great acquaintance that heretofore I had
with you, as likewise it hath pleased you heretofore--
AMORETTO.
Look, sirrah, if you see my hobby come hitherward as yet.
ACADEMICO.
--to make me some promises, I am to request your good mediation to the
worshipful your father in my behalf: and I will dedicate to yourself,
in the way of thanks, those days I have to live.
AMORETTO.
O good sir, if I had known your mind before; for my father hath already
given the induction to a chaplain of his own--to a proper man--I know
not of what university he is.
ACADEMICO.
Signior Immerito, they say, hath bidden fairest for it.
AMORETTO.
I know not his name; but he is a grave, discreet man, I warrant him:
indeed, he wants utterance in some measure.
ACADEMICO.
Nay, methinks he hath very good utterance for his gravity, for he came
hither very grave; but, I think, he will return light enough, when he
is rid of the heavy element he carries about him. [_Aside_.
AMORETTO.
Faith, sir, you must pardon me: it is my ordinary custom to be too
studious; my mistress hath told me of it often, and I find it to hurt
my ordinary discourse: but say, sweet sir, do ye affect the most
gentlemanlike game of hunting?
ACADEMICO.
How say you to the crafty gull? he would fain get me abroad to make
sport with me in their hunters' terms, which we scholars are not
acquainted with. [_Aside_.] Sir, I have loved this kind of sport; but
now I begin to hate it, for it hath been my luck always to beat the
bush, while another killed the hare.
AMORETTO.
Hunters' luck, hunters' luck, sir; but there was a fault in your hounds,
that did spend well.
ACADEMICO.
Sir, I have had worse luck always at hunting the fox.
AMORETTO.
What, sir, do you mean at the unkennelling, untapezing, or earthing of
the fox?
ACADEMICO.
I mean, earthing, if you term it so;--for I never found yellow earth
enough to cover the old fox your father. [_Aside_.
AMORETTO.
Good faith, sir, there is an excellent skill in blowing for the terriers;
it is a word that we hunters use. When the fox is earthed, you must blow
one long, two short; the second wind, one long, two short. Now, sir, in
blowing, every long containeth seven quavers, one short containeth three
quavers.
ACADEMICO.
Sir, might I find any favour in my suit, I would wind the horn, wherein
your boon[87] deserts should be sounded with so many minims, so many
quavers.
AMORETTO.
Sweet sir, I would I could confer this or any kindness upon you:--I
wonder, the boy comes not away with my hobby. Now, sir, as I was
proceeding--when you blow the death of your fox in the field or covert,
then must you sound three notes with three winds, and recheat, mark you,
sir, upon the same with three winds.
ACADEMICO.
I pray you, sir.
AMORETTO.
Now, sir, when you come to your stately gate, as you sounded the recheat
before, so now you must sound the relief three times.
ACADEMICO.
Relief, call you it? it were good, every patron would find the horn.
[_Aside_.
AMORETTO.
O sir, but your relief is your sweetest note: that is, sir, when your
hounds hunt after a game unknown; and then you must sound one long and
six short; the second wind, two short and one long; the third wind, one
long and two short.
ACADEMICO.
True, sir, it is a very good trade nowadays to be a villain; I am the
hound that hunts after a game unknown, and blows the villain.
[_Aside_.]
AMORETTO.
Sir, I will bless your ears with a very pretty story: my father, out of
his own cost and charges, keeps an open table for all kind of dogs.
ACADEMICO.
And he keeps one more by thee. [_Aside_.]
AMORETTO.
He hath your greyhound, your mongrel, your mastiff, your levrier, your
spaniel, your kennets, terriers, butchers' dogs, bloodhounds,
dunghill-dogs, trundle-tails, prick-eared curs, small ladies' puppies,
raches,[88] and bastards.
ACADEMICO.
What a bawdy knave hath he to his father, that keeps his Rachel, hath
his bastards, and lets his sons be plain ladies' puppies to bewray a
lady's chamber. [_Aside_.]
AMORETTO.
It was my pleasure, two days ago, to take a gallant leash of greyhounds;
and into my father's park I went, accompanied with two or three noblemen
of my near acquaintance, desiring to show them some of the sport. I
caused the keeper to sever the rascal deer from the bucks of the first
head. Now, sir, a buck the first year is a fawn, the second year a
pricket, the third year a sorel, the fourth year a sore, the fifth a
buck of the first head, the sixth year a complete buck; as likewise your
hart is the first year a calf, the second year a brocket, the third year
a spade, the fourth year a stag, the fifth year a great stag, the sixth
year a hart; as likewise the roebuck is the first year a kid, the second
year a girl, the third year a hemuse: and these are your special beasts
for chase, or, as we huntsmen call it, for venery.
ACADEMICO.
If chaste be taken for venery, thou art a more special beast than any in
thy father's forest. [_Aside_.] Sir, I am sorry I have been so
troublesome to you.
AMORETTO.
I know this was the readiest way to chase away the scholar, by getting
him into a subject he cannot talk of for his life. [_Aside_.] Sir, I
will borrow so much time of you as to finish this my begun story. Now,
sir, after much travel we singled a buck; I rode that same time upon a
roan gelding, and stood to intercept from the thicket; the buck broke
gallantly; my great swift being disadvantaged in his slip was at the
first behind; marry, presently coted and outstripped them, when as the
hart presently descended to the river, and being in the water, proffered
and reproffered, and proffered again: and, at last, he upstarted at the
other side of the water, which we call soil of the hart, and there other
huntsmen met him with an adauntreley;[89] we followed in hard chase for
the space of eight hours; thrice our hounds were at default, and then we
cried _A slain_! straight, _So ho_; through good reclaiming my faulty
hounds found their game again, and so went through the wood with gallant
noise of music, resembling so many _viols de gambo_. At last the hart
laid him down, and the hounds seized upon him; he groaned, and wept, and
died. In good faith, it made me weep too, to think of Actaeon's fortune,
which my Ovid speaks of--
[_He reads Ovid_.