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Title: Cynthia's Revels

Author: Ben Johnson

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The Project Gutenberg Etext of Cynthia's Revels
by Ben Johnson
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Sue Asscher  asschers@dingoblue.net.au and Amy E Zelmer <a.zelmer@cqu.edu.au>





EVERYMAN'S LIBRARY
EDITED BY ERNEST RHYS


POETRY AND
THE DRAMA


BEN JONSON'S PLAYS
WITH AN INTRODUCTION BY
PROF. FELIX E. SCHELLING
VOLUME ONE


THE PUBLISHERS OF EVERYMAN'S LIBRARY WILL BE PLEASED TO SEND FREELY TO ALL
APPLICANTS A LIST OF THE PUBLISHED AND PROJECTED VOLUMES TO BE COMPRISED
UNDER THE FOLLOWING THIRTEEN HEADINGS:

TRAVEL  *  SCIENCE  *  FICTION
THEOLOGY & PHILOSOPHY
HISTORY  *  CLASSICAL
FOR YOUNG PEOPLE
ESSAYS  *  ORATORY
POETRY & DRAMA
BIOGRAPHY
REFERENCE
ROMANCE

IN FOUR STYLES OFBINDING:  CLOTH, FLAT BACK, COLOURED TOP; LEATHER, ROUND
CORNERS, GILT TOP; LIBRARY BINDING IN CLOTH, & QUARTER PIGSKIN


POETS ARE THE TRUMPETS WHICH SING TO BATTLE........POETS ARE THE
UNACKNOWLEDGED LEGISLATORS OF THE WORLD
- SHELLEY


THE COMPLETE PLAYS OF BEN JONSON
VOLUME ONE

FIRST ISSUE OF THIS EDITION . 1910
REPRINTED . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .   1915



INTRODUCTION

THE greatest of English dramatists except Shakespeare, the first literary
dictator and poet-laureate, a writer of verse, prose, satire, and criticism
who most potently of all the men of his time affected the subsequent course
of English letters:  such was Ben Jonson, and as such his strong
personality assumes an interest to us almost unparalleled, at least in his
age.

Ben Jonson came of the stock that was centuries after to give to the world
Thomas Carlyle; for Jonson's grandfather was of Annandale, over the Solway,
whence he migrated to England.  Jonson's father lost his estate under Queen
Mary, "having been cast into prison and forfeited."  He entered the church,
but died a month before his illustrious son was born, leaving his widow and
child in poverty.  Jonson's birthplace was Westminster, and the time of his
birth early in 1573.  He was thus nearly ten years Shakespeare's junior,
and less well off, if a trifle better born.  But Jonson did not profit even
by this slight advantage.  His mother married beneath her, a wright or
bricklayer, and Jonson was for a time apprenticed to the trade.  As a youth
he attracted the attention of the famous antiquary, William Camden, then
usher at Westminster School, and there the poet laid the solid foundations
of his classical learning.  Jonson always held Camden in veneration,
acknowledging that to him he owed,
"All that I am in arts, all that I know:"
and dedicating his first dramatic success, "Every Man in His Humour," to
him.  It is doubtful whether Jonson ever went to either university, though
Fuller says that he was "statutably admitted into St. John's College,
Cambridge."  He tells us that he took no degree, but was later "Master of
Arts in both the universities, by their favour, not his study."  When a
mere youth Jonson enlisted as a soldier trailing his pike in Flanders in
the protracted wars of William the Silent against the Spanish.  Jonson was
a large and raw-boned lad; he became by his own account in time exceedingly
bulky.  In chat with his friend William Drummond of Hawthornden, Jonson
told how "in his service in the Low Countries he had, in the face of both
the camps, killed an enemy, and taken 'opima spolia' from him;" and how
"since his coming to England, being appealed to the fields, he had killed
his adversary which had hurt him in the arm and whose sword was ten inches
longer than his."  Jonson's reach may have made up for the lack of his
sword; certainly his prowess lost nothing in the telling.  Obviously Jonson
was brave, combative, and not averse to talking of himself and his doings.

In 1592, Jonson returned from abroad penniless.  Soon after he married,
almost as early and quite as imprudently as Shakespeare.  He told Drummond
curtly that "his wife was a shrew, yet honest"; for some years he lived
apart from her in the household of Lord Albany.  Yet two touching epitaphs
among Jonson's 'Epigrams', "On my first daughter," and "On my first son,"
attest the warmth of the poet's family affections.  The daughter died in
infancy, the son of the plague; another son grew up to manhood little
credit to his father whom he survived.  We know nothing beyond this of
Jonson's domestic life.

How soon Jonson drifted into what we now call grandly "the theatrical
profession" we do not know.  In 1593 Marlowe made his tragic exit from
life, and Greene, Shakespeare's other rival on the popular stage, had
preceded Marlowe in an equally miserable death the year before.
Shakespeare already had the running to himself.  Jonson appears first in
the employment of Philip Henslowe, the exploiter of several troupes of
players, manager, and father-in-law of the famous actor, Edward Alleyn.
From entries in 'Henslowe's Diary', a species of theatrical account book
which has been handed down to us, we know that Jonson was connected with
the Admiral's men; for he borrowed 4 of Henslowe, July 28, 1597, paying
back 3s. 9d. on the same day on account of his "share" (in what is not
altogether clear); while later, on December 3, of the same year, Henslowe
advanced 20s. to him "upon a book which he showed the plot unto the company
which he promised to deliver unto the company at Christmas next."  In the
next August Jonson was in collaboration with Chettle and Porter in a play
called "Hot Anger Soon Cold."  All this points to an association with
Henslowe of some duration, as no mere tyro would be thus paid in advance
upon mere promise.  From allusions in Dekker's play, "Satiromastix," it
appears that Jonson, like Shakespeare, began life as an actor, and that he
"ambled in a leather pitch by a play-wagon" taking at one time the part of
Hieronimo in Kyd's famous play, "The Spanish Tragedy."  By the beginning of
1598, Jonson, though still in needy circumstances, had begun to receive
recognition.  Francis Meres -- well known for his "Comparative Discourse of
our English Poets with the Greek, Latin, and Italian Poets," printed in
1598, and for his mention therein of a dozen plays of Shakespeare by title
-- accords to Ben Jonson a place as one of "our best in tragedy," a matter
of some surprise, as no known tragedy of Jonson from so early a date has
come down to us.  That Jonson was at work on tragedy, however, is proved by
the entries in Henslowe of at least three tragedies, now lost, in which he
had a hand.  These are "Page of Plymouth," "King Robert II. of Scotland,"
and "Richard Crookback."  But all of these came later, on his return to
Henslowe, and range from August 1599 to June 1602.

Returning to the autumn of 1598, an event now happened to sever for a time
Jonson's relations with Henslowe.  In a letter to Alleyn, dated September
26 of that year, Henslowe writes:  "I have lost one of my company that
hurteth me greatly; that is Gabriel [Spencer], for he is slain in Hogsden
fields by the hands of Benjamin Jonson, bricklayer."  The last word is
perhaps Henslowe's thrust at Jonson in his displeasure rather than a
designation of his actual continuance at his trade up to this time.  It is
fair to Jonson to remark however, that his adversary appears to have been a
notorious fire-eater who had shortly before killed one Feeke in a similar
squabble.  Duelling was a frequent occurrence of the time among gentlemen
and the nobility; it was an imprudent breach of the peace on the part of a
player.  This duel is the one which Jonson described years after to
Drummond, and for it Jonson was duly arraigned at Old Bailey, tried, and
convicted.  He was sent to prison and such goods and chattels as he had
"were forfeited."  It is a thought to give one pause that, but for the
ancient law permitting convicted felons to plead, as it was called, the
benefit of clergy, Jonson might have been hanged for this deed.  The
circumstance that the poet could read and write saved him; and he received
only a brand of the letter "T," for Tyburn, on his left thumb.  While in
jail Jonson became a Roman Catholic; but he returned to the faith of the
Church of England a dozen years later.

On his release, in disgrace with Henslowe and his former associates, Jonson
offered his services as a playwright to Henslowe's rivals, the Lord
Chamberlain's company, in which Shakespeare was a prominent shareholder.  A
tradition of long standing, though not susceptible of proof in a court of
law, narrates that Jonson had submitted the manuscript of "Every Man in His
Humour" to the Chamberlain's men and had received from the company a
refusal; that Shakespeare called him back, read the play himself, and at
once accepted it.  Whether this story is true or not, certain it is that
"Every Man in His Humour" was accepted by Shakespeare's company and acted
for the first time in 1598, with Shakespeare taking a part.  The evidence
of this is contained in the list of actors prefixed to the comedy in the
folio of Jonson's works, 1616.  But it is a mistake to infer, because
Shakespeare's name stands first in the list of actors and the elder
Kno'well first in the 'dramatis personae', that Shakespeare took that
particular part.  The order of a list of Elizabethan players was generally
that of their importance or priority as shareholders in the company and
seldom if ever corresponded to the list of characters.

"Every Man in His Humour" was an immediate success, and with it Jonson's
reputation as one of the leading dramatists of his time was established
once and for all.  This could have been by no means Jonson's earliest
comedy, and we have just learned that he was already reputed one of "our
best in tragedy."  Indeed, one of Jonson's extant comedies, "The Case is
Altered," but one never claimed by him or published as his, must certainly
have preceded "Every Man in His Humour" on the stage.  The former play may
be described as a comedy modelled on the Latin plays of Plautus.  (It
combines, in fact, situations derived from the "Captivi" and the
"Aulularia" of that dramatist).  But the pretty story of the beggar-maiden,
Rachel, and her suitors, Jonson found, not among the classics, but in the
ideals of romantic love which Shakespeare had already popularised on the
stage.  Jonson never again produced so fresh and lovable a feminine
personage as Rachel, although in other respects "The Case is Altered" is
not a conspicuous play, and, save for the satirising of Antony Munday in
the person of Antonio Balladino and Gabriel Harvey as well, is perhaps the
least characteristic of the comedies of Jonson.

"Every Man in His Humour," probably first acted late in the summer of 1598
and at the Curtain, is commonly regarded as an epoch-making play; and this
view is not unjustified.  As to plot, it tells little more than how an
intercepted letter enabled a father to follow his supposedly studious son
to London, and there observe his life with the gallants of the time.  The
real quality of this comedy is in its personages and in the theory upon
which they are conceived.  Ben Jonson had theories about poetry and the
drama, and he was neither chary in talking of them nor in experimenting
with them in his plays.  This makes Jonson, like Dryden in his time, and
Wordsworth much later, an author to reckon with; particularly when we
remember that many of Jonson's notions came for a time definitely to
prevail and to modify the whole trend of English poetry.  First of all
Jonson was a classicist, that is, he believed in restraint and precedent in
art in opposition to the prevalent ungoverned and irresponsible Renaissance
spirit.  Jonson believed that there was a professional way of doing things
which might be reached by a study of the best examples, and he found these
examples for the most part among the ancients.  To confine our attention to
the drama, Jonson objected to the amateurishness and haphazard nature of
many contemporary plays, and set himself to do something different; and the
first and most striking thing that he evolved was his conception and
practice of the comedy of humours.

As Jonson has been much misrepresented in this matter, let us quote his own
words as to "humour."  A humour, according to Jonson, was a bias of
disposition, a warp, so to speak, in character by which
"Some one peculiar quality
Doth so possess a man, that it doth draw
All his affects, his spirits, and his powers,
In their confluctions, all to run one way."

But continuing, Jonson is careful to add:
"But that a rook by wearing a pied feather,
The cable hat-band, or the three-piled ruff,
A yard of shoe-tie, or the Switzers knot
On his French garters, should affect a humour!
O, it is more than most ridiculous."

Jonson's comedy of humours, in a word, conceived of stage personages on the
basis of a ruling trait or passion (a notable simplification of actual life
be it observed in passing); and, placing these typified traits in
juxtaposition in their conflict and contrast, struck the spark of comedy.
Downright, as his name indicates, is "a plain squire"; Bobadill's humour is
that of the braggart who is incidentally, and with delightfully comic
effect, a coward; Brainworm's humour is the finding out of things to the
end of fooling everybody:  of course he is fooled in the end himself.  But
it was not Jonson's theories alone that made the success of "Every Man in
His Humour."  The play is admirably written and each character is vividly
conceived, and with a firm touch based on observation of the men of the
London of the day.  Jonson was neither in this, his first great comedy (nor
in any other play that he wrote), a supine classicist, urging that English
drama return to a slavish adherence to classical conditions.  He says as to
the laws of the old comedy (meaning by "laws," such matters as the unities
of time and place and the use of chorus):  "I see not then, but we should
enjoy the same licence, or free power to illustrate and heighten our
invention as they [the ancients] did; and not be tied to those strict and
regular forms which the niceness of a few, who are nothing but form, would
thrust upon us."  "Every Man in His Humour" is written in prose, a novel
practice which Jonson had of his predecessor in comedy, John Lyly.  Even
the word "humour" seems to have been employed in the Jonsonian sense by
Chapman before Jonson's use of it.  Indeed, the comedy of humours itself is
only a heightened variety of the comedy of manners which represents life,
viewed at a satirical angle, and is the oldest and most persistent species
of comedy in the language.  None the less, Jonson's comedy merited its
immediate success and marked out a definite course in which comedy long
continued to run.  To mention only Shakespeare's Falstaff and his rout,
Bardolph, Pistol, Dame Quickly, and the rest, whether in "Henry IV." or in
"The Merry Wives of Windsor," all are conceived in the spirit of humours.
So are the captains, Welsh, Scotch, and Irish of "Henry V.," and Malvolio
especially later; though Shakespeare never employed the method of humours
for an important personage.  It was not Jonson's fault that many of his
successors did precisely the thing that he had reprobated, that is, degrade
"the humour: into an oddity of speech, an eccentricity of manner, of dress,
or cut of beard.  There was an anonymous play called "Every Woman in Her
Humour."  Chapman wrote "A Humourous Day's Mirth," Day, "Humour Out of
Breath," Fletcher later, "The Humourous Lieutenant," and Jonson, besides
"Every Man Out of His Humour," returned to the title in closing the cycle
of his comedies in "The Magnetic Lady or Humours Reconciled."

With the performance of "Every Man Out of His Humour" in 1599, by
Shakespeare's company once more at the Globe, we turn a new page in
Jonson's career.  Despite his many real virtues, if there is one feature
more than any other that distinguishes Jonson, it is his arrogance; and to
this may be added his self-righteousness, especially under criticism or
satire.  "Every Man Out of His Humour" is the first of three "comical
satires" which Jonson contributed to what Dekker called the 'poetomachia'
or war of the theatres as recent critics have named it.  This play as a
fabric of plot is a very slight affair; but as a satirical picture of the
manners of the time, proceeding by means of vivid caricature, couched in
witty and brilliant dialogue and sustained by that righteous indignation
which must lie at the heart of all true satire -- as a realisation, in
short, of the classical ideal of comedy -- there had been nothing like
Jonson's comedy since the days of Aristophanes.  "Every Man in His Humour,"
like the two plays that follow it, contains two kinds of attack, the
critical or generally satiric, levelled at abuses and corruptions in the
abstract; and the personal, in which specific application is made of all
this in the lampooning of poets and others, Jonson's contemporaries.  The
method of personal attack by actual caricature of a person on the stage is
almost as old as the drama.  Aristophanes so lampooned Euripides in "The
Acharnians" and Socrates in "The Clouds," to mention no other examples; and
in English drama this kind of thing is alluded to again and again.  What
Jonson really did, was to raise the dramatic lampoon to an art, and make
out of a casual burlesque and bit of mimicry a dramatic satire of literary
pretensions and permanency.  With the arrogant attitude mentioned above and
his uncommon eloquence in scorn, vituperation, and invective, it is no
wonder that Jonson soon involved himself in literary and even personal
quarrels with his fellow-authors.  The circumstances of the origin of this
'poetomachia' are far from clear, and those who have written on the topic,
except of late, have not helped to make them clearer.  The origin of the
"war" has been referred to satirical references, apparently to Jonson,
contained in "The Scourge of Villainy," a satire in regular form after the
manner of the ancients by John Marston, a fellow playwright, subsequent
friend and collaborator of Jonson's.  On the other hand, epigrams of Jonson
have been discovered (49, 68, and 100) variously charging "playwright"
(reasonably identified with Marston) with scurrility, cowardice, and
plagiarism; though the dates of the epigrams cannot be ascertained with
certainty.  Jonson's own statement of the matter to Drummond runs:  "He had
many quarrels with Marston, beat him, and took his pistol from him, wrote
his 'Poetaster' on him; the beginning[s] of them were that Marston
represented him on the stage."*

[footnote] *The best account of this whole subject is to be found in the
edition of 'Poetaster' and 'Satiromastrix' by J. H. Penniman in 'Belles
Lettres Series' shortly to appear.  See also his earlier work, 'The War of
the Theatres', 1892, and the excellent contributions to the subject by H.
C. Hart in 'Notes and Queries', and in his edition of Jonson, 1906.

Here at least we are on certain ground; and the principals of the quarrel
are known.  "Histriomastix," a play revised by Marston in 1598, has been
regarded as the one in which Jonson was thus "represented on the stage";
although the personage in question, Chrisogonus, a poet, satirist, and
translator, poor but proud, and contemptuous of the common herd, seems
rather a complimentary portrait of Jonson than a caricature.  As to the
personages actually ridiculed in "Every Man Out of His Humour," Carlo
Buffone was formerly thought certainly to be Marston, as he was described
as "a public scurrilous, and profane jester," and elsewhere as the grand
scourge or second untruss [that is, satirist], of the time" (Joseph Hall
being by his own boast the first, and Marston's work being entitled "The
Scourge of Villainy").  Apparently we must now prefer for Carlo a notorious
character named Charles Chester, of whom gossipy and inaccurate Aubrey
relates that he was "a bold impertinent fellow...a perpetual talker and
made a noise like a drum in a room.  So one time at a tavern Sir Walter
Raleigh beats him and seals up his mouth (that is his upper and nether
beard) with hard wax.  From him Ben Jonson takes his Carlo Buffone ['i.e.',
jester] in 'Every Man in His Humour' ['sic']."  Is it conceivable that
after all Jonson was ridiculing Marston, and that the point of the satire
consisted in an intentional confusion of "the grand scourge or second
untruss" with "the scurrilous and profane" Chester?

We have digressed into detail in this particular case to exemplify the
difficulties of criticism in its attempts to identify the allusions in
these forgotten quarrels.  We are on sounder ground of fact in recording
other manifestations of Jonson's enmity.  In "The Case is Altered" there is
clear ridicule in the character Antonio Balladino of Anthony Munday,
pageant-poet of the city, translator of romances and playwright as well.
In "Every Man in His Humour" there is certainly a caricature of Samuel
Daniel, accepted poet of the court, sonneteer, and companion of men of
fashion.  These men held recognised positions to which Jonson felt his
talents better entitled him; they were hence to him his natural enemies.
It seems almost certain that he pursued both in the personages of his
satire through "Every Man Out of His Humour," and "Cynthia's Revels,"
Daniel under the characters Fastidious Brisk and Hedon, Munday as
Puntarvolo and Amorphus; but in these last we venture on quagmire once
more.  Jonson's literary rivalry of Daniel is traceable again and again, in
the entertainments that welcomed King James on his way to London, in the
masques at court, and in the pastoral drama.  As to Jonson's personal
ambitions with respect to these two men, it is notable that he became, not
pageant-poet, but chronologer to the City of London; and that, on the
accession of the new king, he came soon to triumph over Daniel as the
accepted entertainer of royalty.

"Cynthia's Revels," the second "comical satire," was acted in 1600, and, as
a play, is even more lengthy, elaborate, and impossible than "Every Man Out
of His Humour."  Here personal satire seems to have absorbed everything,
and while much of the caricature is admirable, especially in the detail of
witty and trenchantly satirical dialogue, the central idea of a fountain of
self-love is not very well carried out, and the persons revert at times to
abstractions, the action to allegory.  It adds to our wonder that this
difficult drama should have been acted by the Children of Queen Elizabeth's
Chapel, among them Nathaniel Field with whom Jonson read Horace and
Martial, and whom he taught later how to make plays.  Another of these
precocious little actors was Salathiel Pavy, who died before he was
thirteen, already famed for taking the parts of old men.  Him Jonson
immortalised in one of the sweetest of his epitaphs.  An interesting
sidelight is this on the character of this redoubtable and rugged satirist,
that he should thus have befriended and tenderly remembered these little
theatrical waifs, some of whom (as we know) had been literally kidnapped to
be pressed into the service of the theatre and whipped to the conning of
their difficult parts.  To the caricature of Daniel and Munday in
"Cynthia's Revels" must be added Anaides (impudence), here assuredly
Marston, and Asotus (the prodigal), interpreted as Lodge or, more
perilously, Raleigh.  Crites, like Asper-Macilente in "Every Man Out of His
Humour," is Jonson's self-complaisant portrait of himself, the just, wholly
admirable, and judicious scholar, holding his head high above the pack of
the yelping curs of envy and detraction, but careless of their puny attacks
on his perfections with only too mindful a neglect.

The third and last of the "comical satires" is "Poetaster," acted, once
more, by the Children of the Chapel in 1601, and Jonson's only avowed
contribution to the fray.  According to the author's own account, this play
was written in fifteen weeks on a report that his enemies had entrusted to
Dekker the preparation of "Satiromastix, the Untrussing of the Humorous
Poet," a dramatic attack upon himself.  In this attempt to forestall his
enemies Jonson succeeded, and "Poetaster" was an immediate and deserved
success.  While hardly more closely knit in structure than its earlier
companion pieces, "Poetaster" is planned to lead up to the ludicrous final
scene in which, after a device borrowed from the "Lexiphanes" of Lucian,
the offending poetaster, Marston-Crispinus, is made to throw up the
difficult words with which he had overburdened his stomach as well as
overlarded his vocabulary.  In the end Crispinus with his fellow,
Dekker-Demetrius, is bound over to keep the peace and never thenceforward
"malign, traduce, or detract the person or writings of Quintus Horatius
Flaccus [Jonson] or any other eminent man transcending you in merit."  One
of the most diverting personages in Jonson's comedy is Captain Tucca.  "His
peculiarity" has been well described by Ward as "a buoyant blackguardism
which recovers itself instantaneously from the most complete exposure, and
a picturesqueness of speech like that of a walking dictionary of slang."

It was this character, Captain Tucca, that Dekker hit upon in his reply,
"Satiromastix," and he amplified him, turning his abusive vocabulary back
upon Jonson and adding "An immodesty to his dialogue that did not enter
into Jonson's conception."  It has been held, altogether plausibly, that
when Dekker was engaged professionally, so to speak, to write a dramatic
reply to Jonson, he was at work on a species of chronicle history, dealing
with the story of Walter Terill in the reign of William Rufus.  This he
hurriedly adapted to include the satirical characters suggested by
"Poetaster," and fashioned to convey the satire of his reply.  The
absurdity of placing Horace in the court of a Norman king is the result.
But Dekker's play is not without its palpable hits at the arrogance, the
literary pride, and self-righteousness of Jonson-Horace, whose "ningle" or
pal, the absurd Asinius Bubo, has recently been shown to figure forth, in
all likelihood, Jonson's friend, the poet Drayton.  Slight and hastily
adapted as is "Satiromastix," especially in a comparison with the better
wrought and more significant satire of "Poetaster," the town awarded the
palm to Dekker, not to Jonson; and Jonson gave over in consequence his
practice of "comical satire."  Though Jonson was cited to appear before the
Lord Chief Justice to answer certain charges to the effect that he had
attacked lawyers and soldiers in "Poetaster," nothing came of this
complaint.  It may be suspected that much of this furious clatter and
give-and-take was pure playing to the gallery.  The town was agog with the
strife, and on no less an authority than Shakespeare ("Hamlet," ii. 2), we
learn that the children's company (acting the plays of Jonson) did "so
berattle the common stages...that many, wearing rapiers, are afraid of
goose-quills, and dare scarce come thither."

Several other plays have been thought to bear a greater or less part in the
war of the theatres.  Among them the most important is a college play,
entitled "The Return from Parnassus," dating 1601-02.  In it a much-quoted
passage makes Burbage, as a character, declare:  "Why here's our fellow
Shakespeare puts them all down; aye and Ben Jonson, too.  O that Ben Jonson
is a pestilent fellow; he brought up Horace, giving the poets a pill, but
our fellow Shakespeare hath given him a purge that made him bewray his
credit."  Was Shakespeare then concerned in this war of the stages?  And
what could have been the nature of this "purge"?  Among several
suggestions, "Troilus and Cressida" has been thought by some to be the play
in which Shakespeare thus "put down" his friend, Jonson.  A wiser
interpretation finds the "purge" in "Satiromastix," which, though not
written by Shakespeare, was staged by his company, and therefore with his
approval and under his direction as one of the leaders of that company.

The last years of the reign of Elizabeth thus saw Jonson recognised as a
dramatist second only to Shakespeare, and not second even to him as a
dramatic satirist.  But Jonson now turned his talents to new fields.  Plays
on subjects derived from classical story and myth had held the stage from
the beginning of the drama, so that Shakespeare was making no new departure
when he wrote his "Julius Caesar" about 1600.  Therefore when Jonson staged
"Sejanus," three years later and with Shakespeare'scompany once more, he
was only following in the elder dramatist's footsteps.  But Jonson's idea
of a play on classical history, on the one hand, and Shakespeare's and the
elder popular dramatists, on the other, were very different.  Heywood some
years before had put five straggling plays on the stage in quick
succession, all derived from stories in Ovid and dramatised with little
taste or discrimination.  Shakespeare had a finer conception of form, but
even he was contented to take all his ancient history from North's
translation of Plutarch and dramatise his subject without further inquiry.
Jonson was a scholar and a classical antiquarian.  He reprobated this
slipshod amateurishness, and wrote his "Sejanus" like a scholar, reading
Tacitus, Suetonius, and other authorities, to be certain of his facts, his
setting, and his atmosphere, and somewhat pedantically noting his
authorities in the margin when he came to print.  "Sejanus" is a tragedy of
genuine dramatic power in which is told with discriminating taste the story
of the haughty favourite of Tiberius with his tragical overthrow.  Our
drama presents no truer nor more painstaking representation of ancient
Roman life than may be found in Jonson's "Sejanus" and "Catiline his
Conspiracy," which followed in 1611.  A passage in the address of the
former play to the reader, in which Jonson refers to a collaboration in an
earlier version, has led to the surmise that Shakespeare may have been that
"worthier pen."  There is no evidence to determine the matter.

In 1605, we find Jonson in active collaboration with Chapman and Marston in
the admirable comedy of London life entitled "Eastward Hoe."  In the
previous year, Marston had dedicated his "Malcontent," in terms of fervid
admiration, to Jonson; so that the wounds of the war of the theatres must
have been long since healed.  Between Jonson and Chapman there was the
kinship of similar scholarly ideals.  The two continued friends throughout
life.  "Eastward Hoe" achieved the extraordinary popularity represented in
a demand for three issues in one year.  But this was not due entirely to
the merits of the play.  In its earliest version a passage which an
irritable courtier conceived to be derogatory to his nation, the Scots,
sent both Chapman and Jonson to jail; but the matter was soon patched up,
for by this time Jonson had influence at court.

With the accession of King James, Jonson began his long and successful
career as a writer of masques.  He wrote more masques than all his
competitors together, and they are of an extraordinary variety and poetic
excellence.  Jonson did not invent the masque; for such premeditated
devices to set and frame, so to speak, a court ball had been known and
practised in varying degrees of elaboration long before his time.  But
Jonson gave dramatic value to the masque, especially in his invention of
the antimasque, a comedy or farcical element of relief, entrusted to
professional players or dancers.  He enhanced, as well, the beauty and
dignity of those portions of the masque in which noble lords and ladies
took their parts to create, by their gorgeous costumes and artistic
grouping and evolutions, a sumptuous show.  On the mechanical and scenic
side Jonson had an inventive and ingenious partner in Inigo Jones, the
royal architect, who more than any one man raised the standard of stage
representation in the England of his day.  Jonson continued active in the
service of the court in the writing of masques and other entertainments far
into the reign of King Charles; but, towards the end, a quarrel with Jones
embittered his life, and the two testy old men appear to have become not
only a constant irritation to each other, but intolerable bores at court.
In "Hymenaei," "The Masque of Queens," "Love Freed from Ignorance," "Lovers
made Men," "Pleasure Reconciled to Virtue," and many more will be found
Jonson's aptitude, his taste, his poetry and inventiveness in these
by-forms of the drama; while in "The Masque of Christmas," and "The Gipsies
Metamorphosed" especially, is discoverable that power ofbroad comedy which,
at court as well as in the city, was not the least element of Jonson's
contemporary popularity.

But Jonson had by no means given up the popular stage when he turned to the
amusement of King James.  In 1605 "Volpone" was produced, "The Silent
Woman" in 1609, "The Alchemist" in the following year.  These comedies,
with "Bartholomew Fair," 1614, represent Jonson at his height, and for
constructive cleverness, character successfully conceived in the manner of
caricature, wit and brilliancy of dialogue, they stand alone in English
drama.  "Volpone, or the Fox," is, in a sense, a transition play from the
dramatic satires of the war of the theatres to the purer comedy represented
in the plays named above.  Its subject is a struggle of wit applied to
chicanery; for among its 'dramatis personae', from the villainous Fox
himself, his rascally servant Mosca, Voltore (the vulture), Corbaccio and
Corvino (the big and the little raven), to Sir Politic Would-be and the
rest, there is scarcely a virtuous character in the play.  Question has
been raised as to whether a story so forbidding can be considered a comedy,
for, although the plot ends in the discomfiture and imprisonment of the
most vicious, it involves no moral catastrophe.  But Jonson was on sound
historical ground, for "Volpone" is conceived far more logically on the
lines of the ancients' theory of comedy than was ever the romantic drama of
Shakespeare, however repulsive we may find a philosophy of life that
facilely divides the world into the rogues and their dupes, and,
identifying brains with roguery and innocence with folly, admires the
former while inconsistently punishing them.

"The Silent Woman" is a gigantic farce of the most ingenious construction.
The whole comedy hinges on a huge joke, played by a heartless nephew on his
misanthropic uncle, who is induced to take to himself a wife, young, fair,
and warranted silent, but who, in the end, turns out neither silent nor a
woman at all.  In "The Alchemist," again, we have the utmost cleverness in
construction, the whole fabric building climax on climax, witty, ingenious,
and so plausibly presented that we forget its departures from the
possibilities of life.  In "The Alchemist" Jonson represented, none the
less to the life, certain sharpers of the metropolis, revelling in their
shrewdness and rascality and in the variety of the stupidity and wickedness
of their victims.  We may object to the fact that the only person in the
play possessed of a scruple of honesty is discomfited, and that the
greatest scoundrel of all is approved in the end and rewarded.  The comedy
is so admirably written and contrived, the personages stand out with such
lifelike distinctness in their several kinds, and the whole is animated
with such verve and resourcefulness that "The Alchemist" is a new marvel
every time it is read.  Lastly of this group comes the tremendous comedy,
"Bartholomew Fair," less clear cut, less definite, and less structurally
worthy of praise than its three predecessors, but full of the keenest and
cleverest of satire and inventive to a degree beyond any English comedy
save some other of Jonson's own.  It is in "Bartholomew Fair" that we are
presented to the immortal caricature of the Puritan, Zeal-in-the-Land Busy,
and the Littlewits that group about him, and it is in this extraordinary
comedy that the humour of Jonson, always open to this danger, loosens into
the Rabelaisian mode that so delighted King James in "The Gipsies
Metamorphosed."  Another comedy of less merit is "The Devil is an Ass,"
acted in 1616.  It was the failure of this play that caused Jonson to give
over writing for the public stage for a period of nearly ten years.

"Volpone" was laid as to scene in Venice.  Whether because of the success
of "Eastward Hoe" or for other reasons, the other three comedies declare in
the words of the prologue to "The Alchemist":
"Our scene is London, 'cause we would make known
No country's mirth is better than our own."
Indeed Jonson went further when he came to revise his plays for collected publication in his folio of 1616, he transferred the scene of "Every Man in His Humour" from Florence to London also, converting Signior Lorenzo di Pazzi to Old Kno'well, Prospero to Master Welborn, and Hesperida to Dame Kitely
"dwelling i' the Old Jewry."

In his comedies of London life, despite his trend towards caricature,
Jonson has shown himself a genuine realist, drawing from the life about him
with an experience and insight rare in any generation.  A happy comparison
has been suggested between Ben Jonson and Charles Dickens.  Both were men
of the people, lowly born and hardly bred.  Each knew the London of his
time as few men knew it; and each represented it intimately and in
elaborate detail.  Both men were at heart moralists, seeking the truth by
the exaggerated methods of humour and caricature; perverse, even
wrong-headed at times, but possessed of a true pathos and largeness of
heart, and when all has been said -- though the Elizabethan ran to satire,
the Victorian to sentimentality -- leaving the world better for the art
that they practised in it.

In 1616, the year of the death of Shakespeare, Jonson collected his plays,
his poetry, and his masques for publication in a collective edition.  This
was an unusual thing at the time and had been attempted by no dramatist
before Jonson.  This volume published, in a carefully revised text, all the
plays thus far mentioned, excepting "The Case is Altered," which Jonson did
not acknowledge, "Bartholomew Fair," and "The Devil is an Ass," which was
written too late.  It included likewise a book of some hundred and thirty
odd 'Epigrams', in which form of brief and pungent writing Jonson was an
acknowledged master; "The Forest," a smaller collection of lyric and
occasional verse and some ten 'Masques' and 'Entertainments'.  In this same
year Jonson was made poet laureate with a pension of one hundred marks a
year.  This, with his fees and returns from several noblemen, and the small
earnings of his plays must have formed the bulk of his income.  The poet
appears to have done certain literary hack-work for others, as, for
example, parts of the Punic Wars contributed to Raleigh's 'History of the
World'.  We know from a story, little to the credit of either, that Jonson
accompanied Raleigh's son abroad in the capacity of a tutor.  In 1618
Jonson was granted the reversion of the office of Master of the Revels, a
post for which he was peculiarly fitted; but he did not live to enjoy its
perquisites.  Jonson was honoured with degrees by both universities, though
when and under what circumstances is not known.  It has been said that he
narrowly escaped the honour of knighthood, which the satirists of the day
averred King James was wont to lavish with an indiscriminate hand.  Worse
men were made knights in his day than worthy Ben Jonson.

From 1616 to the close of the reign of King James, Jonson produced nothing
for the stage.  But he "prosecuted" what he calls "his wonted studies" with
such assiduity that he became in reality, as by report, one of the most
learned men of his time.  Jonson's theory of authorship involved a wide
acquaintance with books and "an ability," as he put it, "to convert the
substance or riches of another poet to his own use."  Accordingly Jonson
read not only the Greek and Latin classics down to the lesser writers, but
he acquainted himself especially with the Latin writings of his learned
contemporaries, their prose as well as their poetry, their antiquities and
curious lore as well as their more solid learning.  Though a poor man,
Jonson was an indefatigable collector of books.  He told Drummond that "the
Earl of Pembroke sent him 20 every first day of the new year to  buy new
books."  Unhappily, in 1623, his library was destroyed by fire, an accident
serio-comically described in his witty poem, "An Execration upon Vulcan."
Yet even now a book turns up from time to time in which is inscribed, in
fair large Italian lettering, the name, Ben Jonson.  With respect to
Jonson's use of his material, Dryden said memorably of him:  "[He] was not
only a professed imitator of Horace, but a learned plagiary of all the
others; you track him everywhere in their snow....But he has done his
robberies so openly that one sees he fears not to be taxed by any law.  He
invades authors like a monarch, and what would be theft in other poets is
only victory in him."  And yet it is but fair to say that Jonson prided
himself, and justly, on his originality.  In "Catiline," he not only uses
Sallust's account of the conspiracy, but he models some of the speeches of
Cicero on the Roman orator's actual words.  In "Poetaster," he lifts a
whole satire out of Horace and dramatises it effectively for his purposes.
The sophist Libanius suggests the situation of "The Silent Woman"; a Latin
comedy of Giordano Bruno, "Il Candelaio," the relation of the dupes and the
sharpers in "The Alchemist," the "Mostellaria" of Plautus, its admirable
opening scene.  But Jonson commonly bettered his sources, and putting the
stamp of his sovereignty on whatever bullion he borrowed made it
thenceforward to all time current and his own.

The lyric and especially the occasional poetry of Jonson has a peculiar
merit.  His theory demanded design and the perfection of literary finish.
He was furthest from the rhapsodist and the careless singer of an idle day;
and he believed that Apollo could only be worthily served in singing robes
and laurel crowned.  And yet many of Jonson's lyrics will live as long as
the language.  Who does not know "Queen and huntress, chaste and fair."
"Drink to me only with thine eyes," or "Still to be neat, still to be
dressed"?  Beautiful in form, deft and graceful in expression, with not a
word too much or one that bears not its part in the total effect, there is
yet about the lyrics of Jonson a certain stiffness and formality, a
suspicion that they were not quite spontaneous and unbidden, but that they
were carved, so to speak, with disproportionate labour by a potent man of
letters whose habitual thought is on greater things.  It is for these
reasons that Jonson is even better in the epigram and in occasional verse
where rhetorical finish and pointed wit less interfere with the spontaneity
and emotion which we usually associate with lyrical poetry.  There are no
such epitaphs as Ben Jonson's, witness the charming ones on his own
children, on Salathiel Pavy, the child-actor, and many more; and this even
though the rigid law of mine and thine must now restore to William Browne
of Tavistock the famous lines beginning:  "Underneath this sable hearse."
Jonson is unsurpassed, too, in the difficult poetry of compliment, seldom
falling into fulsome praise and disproportionate similtude, yet showing
again and again a generous appreciation of worth in others, a
discriminating taste and a generous personal regard.  There was no man in
England of his rank so well known and universally beloved as Ben Jonson.
The list of his friends, of those to whom he had written verses, and those
who had written verses to him, includes the name of every man of prominence
in the England of King James.  And the tone of many of these productions
discloses an affectionate familiarity that speaks for the amiable
personality and sound worth of the laureate.  In 1619, growing unwieldy
through inactivity, Jonson hit upon the heroic remedy of a journey afoot to
Scotland.  On his way thither and back he was hospitably received at the
houses of many friends and by those to whom his friends had recommended
him.  When he arrived in Edinburgh, the burgesses met to grant him the
freedom of the city, and Drummond, foremost of Scottish poets, was proud to
entertain him for weeks as his guest at Hawthornden.  Some of the noblest
of Jonson's poems were inspired by friendship.  Such is the fine "Ode to
the memory of Sir Lucius Cary and Sir Henry Moryson," and that admirable
piece of critical insight and filial affection, prefixed to the first
Shakespeare folio, "To the memory of my beloved master, William
Shakespeare, and what he hath left us." to mention only these.  Nor can the
earlier "Epode," beginning "Not to know vice at all," be matchedin stately
gravity and gnomic wisdom in its own wise and stately age.

But if Jonson had deserted the stage after the publication of his folio and
up to the end of the reign of King James, he was far from inactive; for
year after year his inexhaustible inventiveness continued to contribute to
the masquing and entertainment at court.  In "The Golden Age Restored,"
Pallas turns from the Iron Age with its attendant evils into statues which
sink out of sight; in "Pleasure Reconciled to Virtue," Atlas figures
represented as an old man, his shoulders covered with snow, and Comus, "the
god of cheer or the belly," is one of the characters, a circumstance which
an imaginative boy of ten, named John Milton, was not to forget.  "Pan's
Anniversary," late in the reign of James, proclaimed that Jonson had not
yet forgotten how to write exquisite lyrics, and "The Gipsies
Metamorphosed" displayed the old drollery and broad humorous stroke still
unimpaired and unmatchable.  These, too, and the earlier years of Charles
were the days of the Apollo Room of the Devil Tavern where Jonson presided,
the absolute monarch of English literary Bohemia.  We hear of a room
blazoned about with Jonson's own judicious 'Leges Convivales' in letters of
gold, of a company made up of the choicest spirits of the time, devotedly
attached to their veteran dictator, his reminiscences, opinions,
affections, and enmities.  And we hear, too, of valorous potations; but in
the words of Herrick addressed to his master, Jonson, at the Devil Tavern,
as at the Dog, the Triple Tun, and at the Mermaid,
"We such clusters had
As made us nobly wild, not mad,
And yet each verse of thine
Outdid the meat, outdid the frolic wine."

But the patronage of the court failed in the days of King Charles, though
Jonson was not without royal favours; and the old poet returned to the
stage, producing, between 1625 and 1633, "The Staple of News," "The New
Inn," "The Magnetic Lady," and "The Tale of a Tub," the last doubtless
revised from a much earlier comedy.  None of these plays met with any
marked success, although the scathing generalisation of Dryden that
designated them "Jonson's dotages" is unfair to their genuine merits.  Thus
the idea of an office for the gathering, proper dressing, and promulgation
of news (wild flight of the fancy in its time) was an excellent subject for
satire on the existing absurdities among the newsmongers; although as much
can hardly be said for "The Magnetic Lady," who, in her bounty, draws to
her personages of differing humours to reconcile them in the end according
to the alternative title, or "Humours Reconciled."  These last plays of the
old dramatist revert to caricature and the hard lines of allegory; the
moralist is more than ever present, the satire degenerates into personal
lampoon, especially of his sometime friend, Inigo Jones, who appears
unworthily to have used his influence at court against the broken-down old
poet.  And now disease claimed Jonson, and he was bedridden for months.  He
had succeeded Middleton in 1628 as Chronologer to the City of London, but
lost the post for not fulfilling its duties.  King Charles befriended him,
and even commissioned him to write still for the entertainment of the
court; and he was not without the sustaining hand of noble patrons and
devoted friends among the younger poets who were proud to be "sealed of the
tribe of Ben."

Jonson died, August 6, 1637, and a second folio of his works, which he had
been some time gathering, was printed in 1640, bearing in its various parts
dates ranging from 1630 to 1642.  It included all the plays mentioned in
the foregoing paragraphs, excepting "The Case is Altered;" the masques,
some fifteen, that date between 1617 and 1630; another collection of lyrics
and occasional poetry called "Underwoods, including some further
entertainments; a translation of "Horace's Art of Poetry" (also published
in a vicesimo quarto in 1640), and certain fragments and ingatherings which
the poet would hardly have included himself.  These last comprise the
fragment (less than seventy lines) of a tragedy called "Mortimer his Fall,"
and three acts of a pastoral drama of much beauty and poetic spirit, "The
Sad Shepherd."  There is also the exceedingly interesting 'English Grammar'
"made by Ben Jonson for the benefit of all strangers out of his observation
of the English language now spoken and in use," in Latin and English; and
'Timber, or discoveries' "made upon men and matter as they have flowed out
of his daily reading, or had their reflux to his peculiar notion of the
times."  The 'Discoveries', as it is usually called, is a commonplace book
such as many literary men have kept, in which their reading was chronicled,
passages that took their fancy translated or transcribed, and their passing
opinions noted.  Many passage of Jonson's 'Discoveries' are literal
translations from the authors he chanced to be reading, with the reference,
noted or not, as the accident of the moment prescribed.  At times he
follows the line of Macchiavelli's argument as to the nature and conduct of
princes; at others he clarifies his own conception of poetry and poets by
recourse to Aristotle.  He finds a choice paragraph on eloquence in Seneca
the elder and applies it to his own recollection of Bacon's power as an
orator; and another on facile and ready genius, and translates it, adapting
it to his recollection of his fellow-playwright, Shakespeare.  To call such
passages -- which Jonson never intended for publication -- plagiarism, is
to obscure the significance of words.  To disparage his memory by citing
them is a preposterous use of scholarship.  Jonson's prose, both in his
dramas, in the descriptive comments of his masques, and in the
'Discoveries', is characterised by clarity and vigorous directness, nor is
it wanting in a fine sense of form or in the subtler graces of diction.

When Jonson died there was a project for a handsome monument to his memory.
But the Civil War was at hand, and the project failed.  A memorial, not
insufficient, was carved on the stone covering his grave in one of the
aisles of Westminster Abbey:
"O rare Ben Jonson."

FELIX E. SCHELLING.

THE COLLEGE,
PHILADELPHIA, U.S.A.

The following is a complete list of his published works: --

DRAMAS. -- Every Man in his Humour, 4to, 1601; The Case is Altered, 4to,
1609; Every Man out of his Humour, 4to, 1600; Cynthia's Revels, 4to, 1601;
Poetaster, 4to, 1602; Sejanus, 4to, 1605; Eastward Ho (with Chapman and
Marston), 4to, 1605; Volpone, 4to, 1607; Epicoene, or the Silent Woman,
4to, 1609 (?), fol., 1616; The Alchemist, 4to, 1612; Catiline, his
Conspiracy, 4to, 1611; Bartholomew Fayre, 4to, 1614 (?), fol., 1631; The
Divell is an Asse, fol., 1631; The Staple of Newes, fol., 1631; The New
Sun, 8vo, 1631, fol., 1692; The Magnetic Lady, or Humours Reconcild, fol.,
1640; A Tale of a Tub, fol., 1640; The Sad Shepherd, or a Tale of Robin
Hood, fol., 1641; Mortimer his Fall (fragment), fol., 1640.

To Jonson have also been attributed additions to Kyd's Jeronymo, and
collaboration in The Widow with Fletcher and Middleton, and in the Bloody
Brother with Fletcher.

POEMS. -- Epigrams, The Forrest, Underwoods, published in fols., 1616,
1640; Selections:  Execration against Vulcan, and Epigrams, 1640; G. Hor.
Flaccus his art of Poetry, Englished by Ben Jonson, 1640; Leges
Convivialis, fol., 1692.  Other minor poems first appeared in Gifford's
edition of Works.

PROSE. -- Timber, or Discoveries made upon Men and Matter, fol., 1641; The
English Grammar, made by Ben Jonson for the benefit of Strangers, fol.,
1640.

Masques and Entertainments were published in the early folios.

WORKS. -- Fol., 1616, vol. 2, 1640 (1631-41); fol., 1692, 1716-19, 1729;
edited by P. Whalley, 7 vols., 1756; by Gifford (with Memoir), 9 vols.,
1816, 1846; re-edited by F. Cunningham, 3 vols., 1871; in 9 vols., 1875;by
Barry Cornwall (with Memoir), 1838; by B. Nicholson (Mermaid Series), with
Introduction by C. H. Herford, 1893, etc.; Nine Plays, 1904; ed. H. C. Hart
(Standard Library), 1906, etc; Plays and Poems, with Introduction by H.
Morley (Universal Library), 1885; Plays (7) and Poems (Newnes), 1905;
Poems, with Memoir by H. Bennett (Carlton Classics), 1907; Masques and
Entertainments, ed. by H. Morley, 1890.

SELECTIONS. -- J. A. Symonds, with Biographical and Critical Essay,
(Canterbury Poets), 1886; Grosart, Brave Translunary Things, 1895; Arber,
Jonson Anthology, 1901; Underwoods, Cambridge University Press, 1905;
Lyrics (Jonson, Beaumont and Fletcher), the Chap Books, No. 4, 1906; Songs
(from Plays, Masques, etc.), with earliest known setting, Eragny Press,
1906.

LIFE. -- See Memoirs affixed to Works; J. A. Symonds (English Worthies),
1886; Notes of Ben Jonson Conversations with Drummond of Hawthornden;
Shakespeare Society, 1842; ed. with Introduction and Notes by P. Sidney,
1906; Swinburne, A Study of Ben Jonson, 1889.


CONTENTS


                                                               PAGE

EVERY MAN IN HIS HUMOUR (Italian Edition).........................1

EVERY MAN OUT OF HIS HUMOUR......................................57

CYNTHIA'S REVELS:  OR, THE FOUNTAIN OF SELF-LOVE............... 149

THE POETASTER:  OR, HIS ARRAIGNMENT.............................233

SEJANUS:  HIS FALL..............................................308

VOLPONE:  OR, THE FOX...........................................400

EPICOENE:  OR, THE SILENT WOMAN.................................489

EVERY MAN IN HIS HUMOUR (Anglicised Edition)....................559

GLOSSARY........................................................625


----------------------------------------------
CYNTHIA'S REVELS:

OR, THE FOUNTAIN OF SELF-LOVE

TO THE SPECIAL FOUNTAIN OF MANNERS

THE COURT


THOU art a bountiful and brave spring, and waterest all the noble plants of
this island.  In thee the whole kingdom dresseth itself, and is ambitious
to use thee as her glass.  Beware then thou render men's figures truly, and
teach them no less to hate their deformities, than to love their forms:
for, to grace, there should come reverence; and no man can call that
lovely, which is not also venerable.  It is not powdering, perfuming, and
every day smelling of the tailor, that converteth to a beautiful object:
but a mind shining through any suit, which needs no false light, either of
riches or honours, to help it.  Such shalt thou find some here, even in the
reign of Cynthia, -- a Crites and an Arete.  Now, under thy Phoebus, it
will be thy province to make more; except thou desirest to have thy source
mix with the spring of self-love, and so wilt draw upon thee as welcome a
discovery of thy days, as was then made of her nights.

Thy servant, but not slave,
BEN JONSON.


DRAMATIS PERSONAE.

CYNTHIA.
ECHO.
MERCURY.
ARETE.
HESPERUS.
PHANTASTE.
CRITES.
AMORPHUS.
ARGURION.
PHILAUTIA.
ASOTUS.
MORIA.
HEDON.
COS.
ANAIDES.
GELAIA.
MORPHIDES.
PROSAITES.
MORUS.
CUPID.

MUTES. -- PHRONESIS, THAUMA, TIME

SCENE, -- GARGAPHIE



INDUCTION.

THE STAGE.

AFTER THE SECOND SOUNDING.

ENTER THREE OF THE CHILDREN, STRUGGLING..

1 CHILD.  Pray you away; why, fellows!  Gods so, what do you mean?

2 CHILD.  Marry, that you shall not speak the prologue sir.

3 CHILD.  Why, do you hope to speak it?

2 CHILD.  Ay, and I think I have most right to it: I am sure I studied it
first.

3 CHILD.  That's all one, if the author think I can speak it better.

1 CHILD.  I plead possession of the cloak:  gentles, your suffrages I pray you.

[WITHIN.]  Why children! are you not ashamed? come in there.
Within.

3 CHILD.  'Slid, I'll play nothing in the play: unless I speak it.

1 CHILD  Why, will you stand to most voices of the gentlemen? let that
decide it.

3 CHILD.  O, no, sir gallant; you presume to have the start of us there,
and that makes you offer so prodigaly.

1 CHILD.  No, would I were whipped, if I had any such thought; try it by
lots either.

2 CHILD.  Faith, I dare tempt my fortune, in a greater venture than this.

3 CHILD. Well said, resolute Jack! I am content too; so we draw first.
Make the cuts.

1 CHILD.  But will you not snatch my Cloak while I am stooping?

3 CHILD.  No, we scorn treachery.

2 CHILD.  Which cut shall speak it?

3 CHILD.  The shortest.

1 CHILD.  Agreed:  draw.  [THEY DRAW CUTS.]  The shortest is come to the
shortest.  Fortune was not altogether blind in this.  Now, sir, I hope I
shall go forward without your envy.

2 CHILD  A spite of all mischievous luck! I was once plucking at the other.

3 CHILD.  Stay Jack: 'Slid I'll do somewhat now afore I go in, though it be
nothing but to revenge myself on the author; since I speak not
his prologue, I'll go tell all the argument of his play afore-hand, and
so stale his invention to the auditory, before it come forth.

1 CHILD.  O, do not so.

2 CHILD.  By no means.

3 CHILD. [ADVANCING TO THE FRONT OF THE STAGE.]  First, the title of his
play is 'Cynthia's Revels', as any man that hath hope to be saved by his
book can witness; the scene, Gargaphie, which I do vehemently suspect for
some fustian country; but let that vanish.  Here is the court of Cynthia
whither he brings Cupid (travelling on foot) resolved to turn page.  By the
way Cupid meets with Mercury, (as that's a thing to be noted);take any of
our Play-books without a Cupid, or a Mercury in it, and burn it for an
heretic in poetry. -- [IN THESE AND THE SUBSEQUENT SPEECHES, AT EVERY
BREAK, THE OTHER TWO INTERRUPT, AND ENDEAVOUR TO STOP HIM.]  Pray thee, let
me alone.  Mercury, he in the nature of a conjurer raises up Echo, who
weeps over her love, or daffodil, Narcissus, a little; sings; curses the
spring wherein the pretty foolish gentleman melted himself away: and
there's an end of her. -- Now, I am to inform you, that Cupid and Mercury
do both become pages.  Cupid attends on Philautia, or Self-love, a court
lady: Mercury follows Hedon, the Voluptuous, and a courtier; one that ranks
himself even with Anaides, or the Impudent, a gallant, and, that's my part;
one that keeps Laughter, Gelaia, the daughter of Folly, a wench in boy's
attire, to wait on him -- These, in the court, meet with Amorphus, a
traveller that hath drunk of the fountain, and there tells the wonders of
the Water.  They presently dispatch away their pages with bottles to fetch
of it, and themselves go to visit the ladies.  But I should have told you
-- Look, these emmets put me out here -- that with this Amorphus, there
comes along a citizen's heir, Asotus, or the Prodigal, who, in imitation of
the traveller, who hath the Whetstone following him, entertains the Beggar,
to be his attendant. -- Now, the nymphs who are mistresses, to these
gallants, are Philautia, Self-love; Phantaste, a light Wittiness; Argurion,
Money; and their guardian, mother
Moria; or mistress Folly.

1 CHILD.  Pray thee, no more.

3 CHILD.  There Cupid strikes Money in love with the Prodigal, makes her
dote upon him, give him jewels, bracelets, carcanets, etc.  All which he
most ingeniously departs withal, to be made known to the other ladies and
gallants; and in the heat of this, increases his train with the Fool to
follow him, as well as the Beggar -- By this time your Beggar begins to
wait close, who is returned with the rest of his fellow bottlemen. -- There
they all drink, save Argurion, who is fallen into a sudden apoplexy --

1 CHILD.  Stop his mouth.

3 CHILD.  And then there's a retired scholar there, you would not wish a
thing to be better contemn'd of a society of gallant, than it is; and he
applies his service, good gentleman, to the Lady Arete, or Virtue, a poor
nymph of Cynthia's train, that's scarce able to buy herself a gown; you
shall see her play in a black robe anon: a creature, that, I assure you, is
no less scorn'd, than himself.  Where am I now? at a stand!

2 CHILD. Come, leave at last,

3 CHILD.  O, the night is come ('twas somewhat dark, methought), and
Cynthia intends to come forth; that helps it a little yet.  All the
courtiers must provide for revels; they conclude upon a masque, the device
of which is -- What, will you ravish me? that each of these Vices, being to
appear before Cynthia, would seem other than indeed they are; and therefore
assume the most neighbouring Virtues as their masking habit -- I'd cry a
rape, but that you are children.

2 CHILD.  Come, we'll have no more of this anticipation; to give them the
inventory of their cates aforehand, were the discipline of a tavern, and
not fitting this presence.

1 CHILD.  Tut, this was but to shew us the happiness of his memory.  I
thought at first he would have plaid the ignorant critic with everything
along as he had gone; I expected some such device.

3 CHILD.  O, you shall see me do that rarely; lend me thy cloak.

1 CHILD.  Soft sir, you'll speak my prologue in it.

3 CHILD.  No, would I might never stir then.

2 CHILD.  Lend it him, lend it him:

1 CHILD.  Well, you have sworn.
[GIVES HIM THE CLOAK.

3 CHILD.  I have.  Now, sir; suppose I am one of your genteel auditors,
that am come in, having paid my money at the door, with much ado, and here
I take my place, and sit down:  I have my three sorts of tobacco, in my
pocket, my light by me, and thus I begin.  [AT THE BREAKS HE TAKES HIS
TOBACCO.]  By this light, I wonder that any man is so mad, to come to see
these rascally tits play here -- They do act like so many wrens or pismires
-- not the fifth part of a good face amongst them all. -- And then their
Music is abominable -- able to stretch a mans ears worse, then ten --
pillories and their ditties -- most lamentable things, like the pitiful
fellows that makes them -- poets.  By this vapour, if it were not for
Tobacco -- I think -- the very stench of 'em would poison me, I should not
dare to come in at their gates --  A man were better visit fifteen jails --
or a dozen or two of hospitals -- then once adventure to come near them.
How is it?  well?

1 CHILD.  Excellent; give me my cloak.

3 CHILD.  Stay; you shall see me do another now: but a more sober, or
better-gather'd gallant; that is, as it may be thought, some friend, or
well-wisher to the house:  and here I enter.

1 CHILD.  What? upon the stage too?

2 CHILD.  Yes; and I step forth like one of the children, and ask you.
Would you have stool sir?

3 CHILD.  A stool, boy!

2 CHILD.  Ay, sir, if you'll give me sixpence, I'll fetch you one.

3 CHILD.  For what I pray thee? what shall I do with it?

2 CHILD.  O lord, sir!  will you betray your Ignorance so much?  Why,
throne yourself in state on the stage, as other gentlemen use  sir.

3 CHILD.  Away, wag: what would'st thou make an Implement of me? 'Slid, the
boy takes me for a piece of perspective, I hold my life, or some silk
curtain, come to hang the stage here! Sir crack, I am none of your fresh
pictures, that use to beautify the decayed dead arras, in a public theatre.

2 CHILD.  'Tis a sign, sir, you put not that confidence in your good
clothes, and your better face, that a gentleman should do, sir.  But I pray
you sir, let me be a suitor to you, that you will quit our stage then, and
take a place; the play is instantly to begin.

3 CHILD.  Most willingly my good wag; but I would speak with your author:
where is he?

2 CHILD.  Not this way, I assure you sir; we are not so officiously
befriended by him, as to have his presence in the tiring-house, to prompt
us aloud, stamp at the book-holder, swear for our properties, curse the
poor tireman, rail the music out of tune, and sweat for every venial
trespass we commit, as some author would, if he had such fine enghles as
we.  Well, 'tis but our hard fortune!

3 CHILD.  Nay, crack be not disheartened.

2 CHILD.  Not I sir; but if you please to confer with our author by
attorney, you may, sir; our proper self here, stands for him.

3 CHILD.  Troth, I have no such serious affair to negotiate with him; but
what may very safely be turn'd upon thy trust.  It is in the
general behalf of this fair Society here, that I am to speak; at least the
more judicious part of it: which seems much distasted with the
immodest and obscene writing of many in their plays.  Besides, they could
wish your poets would leave to be promoters of other men's jests, and to
way-lay all the stale apohthegms, or old books they can hear of. in print
or otherwise, to farce their Scenes withal.  That
they would not so penuriously glean wit, from every laundress, or
hackney-man; or derive their best grace, with servile Imitation, from
common stages, or observation of the company, they converse with; as if
their Invention lived wholly upon another man's trencher.  Again; that
feeding their friends with nothing of their own, but what they have twice,
or thrice cooked, they should not wantonly give out,
how soon they had drest it; nor how many coaches came to carry away the
broken meat, besides hobby-horses and foot-cloth nags.

2 CHILD.  So, sir, this is all the reformation you seek?

3 CHILD.  It is; do not you think it necessary to be practised, my little wag?

2 CHILD.  Yes; where any such ill-habited custom is received.

3 CHILD.  O (I had almost forgot it too), they say, the umbrae, or ghosts
of some three or four plays departed a dozen years since, have been seen
walking on your stage here; take heed boy, if your house be haunted with
such hobgoblins, 'twill fright away all your spectators quickly.

2 CHILD  Good, sir, but what will you say now, if a poet. untouch'd with
any breath of this disease, find the tokens upon you, that are of the
auditory?  As some one civet-wit among you, that knows no other learning,
than the price of satin and velvets: nor other perfection, than the wearing
of a neat suit; and yet will censure as desperately as themost profess'd
critic in the house, presuming, his clothes, should bear him out in it.
Another, whom it hath pleased nature to furnish with more beard, then
brain, prunes his mustaccio; lisps, and, with some score of affected oaths,
swears down all that sit about him;  "That the old Hieronimo, as it was
first acted, was the only best, and judiciously penn'd play of Europe".  A
third great-bellied juggler talks of twenty years since, and when Monsieur
was here, and would enforce all wits to be of that fashion, because his
doublet is still so.  A fourth miscalls all by the name of fustian, that
his grounded capacity cannot aspire to.  A fifth only shakes his bottle
head, and out of his corky brain, squeezeth out a pitiful learned face, and
is silent.

3 CHILD.  By my faith, Jack, you have put me down: I would I knew how to
get off with any indifferent grace!  here take your cloak, and promise some
satisfaction in your prologue, or, I'll be sworn, we have marr'd all.
Exit.

2 CHILD.  Tut, fear not, child, this will never distaste a true sense: be
not out, and good enough.  I would thou hadst some sugar candied, to
sweeten thy mouth.


THE THIRD SOUNDING.

PROLOGUE.

If gracious silence, sweet attention,
Quick sight, and quicker apprehension,
The lights of judgment's throne, shine any where,
Our doubtful author hopes this is their sphere
And therefore opens he himself to those,
To other weaker beams, his labours close;
As loth to prostitute their virgin-strain,
To every vulgar and adulterate brain.
In this alone, his Muse her sweetness hath,
She shuns the print of any beaten path;
And proves new ways to come to learned ears
Pied ignorance she neither loves, nor fears.
Nor hunts she after popular applause,
Or foamy praise, that drops from common jaws
The garland that she wears, their hands must twine,
Who can both censure, understand, define
What merit is:  then cast those piercing rays,
Round as a crown, instead of honour'd bays,
About his poesy; which, he knows, affords,
Words above action: matter, above words.


ACT I

SCENE I. -- A GROVE AND FOUNTAIN.

ENTER CUPID, AND MERCURY WITH HIS CADUCEUS, ON DIFFERENT SIDES.

CUP.  Who goes there?

MER.  'Tis I, blind archer.

CUP.  Who, Mercury?

MER.  Ay.

CUP.  Farewell.

MER.  Stay Cupid.

CUP.  Not in your company Hermes, except your hands were riveted at your back.

MER.  Why so my little rover?

CUP.  Because I know you have not a finger, but is as long as my quiver,
cousin Mercury, when you please to extend it.

MER.  Whence derive you this speech, boy?

CUP.  O! 'tis your best polity to be Ignorant.  You did never steal Mars
his sword out of the sheath; you! nor Neptune's trident! nor Apollo's bow!
no, not you! Alas, your palms, Jupiter knows, they are as tender as the
foot of a foundered nag, or a lady's face new mercuried, they'll touch
nothing.

MER.  Go to, Infant, you'll be daring still.

CUP.  Daring! O Janus! what a word is there? why, my light feather-heel'd
coz, what are you, any more then my uncle Jove's pander?  a lacquey that
runs on errands for him, and can whisper a light message to a loose wench
with some round volubility?  wait mannerly at a table with a trencher,
warble upon a crowd a little, and fill out nectar when Ganymede's away?
one that sweeps the god's drinking-room every morning, and sets the
cushions in order again which they threw one at another's head over night;
can brush the carpets, call the stools again to their places, play the
crier of the court with an audible voice, and take state of a president
upon you at wrestlings, pleadings, negociations, etc.  Here's the catalogue
of your employments, now!  O, no, I err; you have the marshalling of all
the ghosts too, that pass the Stygian ferry, and I suspect you for a share
with the old sculler there, if the truth were known; but let that scape.
One other peculiar virtue you possess, in lifting or 'leiger-du-main',
which few of the house of heaven have else besides, I must confess.  But,
methinks that should not make you put that extreme distance 'twixt yourself
and others, that we should be said to 'over-dare" in speaking to your
nimble deity.  So Hercules might challenge a priority of us both, because
he can throw the bar farther, or lift more join'd stools at the arm's end,
than we.  If this might carry it, then we, who have made the whole body of
divinity tremble at the twang of our bow, and enforc'd Saturnius himself to
lay by his curled front, thunder, and three-fork'd fires, and put on a
masking suit, too light for a reveller of eighteen to be seen in --

MER.  How now!  my dancing braggart in 'decimo sexto'!  charm your skipping
tongue, or I'll --

CUP.  What!  use the virtue of your snaky tip staff there upon us?

MER.  No, boy, but the smart vigour of my palm about your ears.  You have
forgot since I took your heels up into air, on the very hour I was born, in
sight of all the bench of deities, when the silver roof of the Olympian
palace rung again with the applause of the fact.

CUP.  O no, I remember it freshly, and by a particular instance; for my
mother Venus, at the same time, but stoop'd to embrace you, and, to speak
by metaphor, you borrow'd a girdle of her's, as you did Jove's sceptre
while he was laughing; and would have done his thunder too, but that 'twas
too hot for your itching fingers.

MER.  'Tis well, sir.

CUP.  I heard, you but look'd in at Vulcan's forge the other day, and
entreated a pair of his new tongs along with you for company:  'tis joy on
you, i' faith, that you will keep your hook'd talons in practice with any
thing.  'Slight, now you are on earth, we shall have you filch spoons and
candlesticks rather than fail:  pray Jove the perfum'd courtiers keep their
casting-bottles, pick-tooths, and shittle-cocks from you, or our more
ordinary gallants their tobacco-boxes; for I am strangely jealous of your
nails.

MER.  Never trust me, Cupid, but you are turn'd a most acute gallant of
late!  the edge of my wit is clean taken off with the fine and subtile
stroke of your thin-ground tongue; you fight with too poignant a phrase,
for me to deal with.

CUP.  O Hermes, your craft cannot make me confident.  I know my own steel
to be almost spent, and therefore entreat my peace with you, in time:  you
are too cunning for me to encounter at length, and I think it my safest
ward to close.

MER.  Well, for once, I'll suffer you to win upon me, wag; but use not
these strains too often, they'll stretch my patience.  Whither might you
march, now?

CUP.  Faith, to recover thy good thoughts, I'll discover my whole project.
The huntress and queen of these groves, Diana, in regard of some black and
envious slanders hourly breathed against her, for her divine justice on
Acteon, as she pretends, hath here in the vale of Gargaphie, proclaim'd a
solemn revels, which (her godhead put off) she will descend to grace, with
the full and royal expense of one of her clearest moons: In which time it
shall be lawful for all sorts of ingenious persons, to visit her palace, to
court her nymphs, to exercise all variety of generous and noble pastimes;
as well to intimate how far she treads such malicious imputations beneath
her, as also to shew how clear her beauties are from the least wrinkle of
austerity they may be charged with.

MER.  But what is all this to Cupid?

CUP.  Here do I mean to put off the title of a god, and take the habit of a
page, in which disguise, during the Interim of these revels, I will get to
follow some one of Diana's maids, where, if my bow hold, and my shafts fly
but with half the willingness and aim they are directed, I doubt not but I
shall really redeem the minutes I have lost, by their so long and over nice
proscription of my deity from their court.

MER.  Pursue it, divine Cupid, it will be rare.

CUP.  But will Hermes second me?

MER.  I am now to put in act an especial designment from my father Jove;
but that perform'd, I am for any fresh action that offers itself.

CUP.  Well, then we part.
[EXIT.

MER.  Farewell good wag,
Now to my charge. -- Echo, fair Echo speak,
'Tis Mercury that calls thee; sorrowful nymph,
Salute me with thy repercussive voice,
That I may know what cavern of the earth,
Contains thy airy spirit, how, or where,
I may direct my speech, that thou may'st hear.

ECHO.  [BELOW]  Here.

MER.  So nigh!

ECHO.  Ay.

MER.  Know, gentle soul, then, I am sent from Jove,
Who, pitying the sad burthen of thy woes,
Still growing on thee, in thy want of words
To vent thy passion for Narcissus' death,
Commands that now, after three thousand years,
Which have been exercised in Juno's spite,
Thou take a corporal figure and ascend,
Enrich'd with vocal, and articulate power.
Make haste sad nymph, thrice shall my winged rod
Strike the obsequious earth, to give thee way.
Arise, and speak thy sorrows, Echo rise,
Here, by this fountain where thy love did pine,
Whose memory lives fresh to vulgar fame,
Shrined in this yellow flower, that bears his name.

ECHO.  [ASCENDS]  His name revives, and lifts me up from earth,
O, which way shall I first convert myself,
Or in what mood shall I essay to speak,
That, in a moment, I may be deliver'd
Of the prodigious grief I go withal?
See, see, the mourning fount whose springs weep yet
Th' untimely fate of that too beauteous boy,
That trophy of self-love, and spoil of nature,
Who, now transform'd into this drooping flower,
Hangs the repentant head, back from the stream,
As if it wish'd, "Would I had never look'd
In such a flattering mirror!"  O Narcissus,
Thou that wast once, and yet art, my Narcissus,
Had Echo but been private with thy thoughts,
She would have dropt away herself in tears,
Till she had all turn'd water; that in her,
As in a truer glass, thou might'st have gazed
And seen thy beauties by more kind reflection,
But self-love never yet could look on truth
But with blear'd beams; slick flattery and she
Are twin-born sisters, and so mix their eyes,
As if you sever one, the other dies.
Why did the Gods give thee a heavenly form,
And earthly thoughts to make thee proud of it?
Why do I ask? 'Tis now the known disease
That beauty hath, to bear too deep a sense
Of her own self-conceived excellence.
O, hadst thou known the worth of heaven's rich gift,
Thou wouldst have turn'd it to a truer use,
And not with starv'd and covetous ignorance,
Pined in continual eyeing that bright gem,
The glance whereof to others had been more,
Than to thy famish'd mind the wide world's store:
So wretched is it to be merely rich!
Witness thy youth's dear sweets here spent untasted,
Like a fair taper, with his own flame wasted.

MER.  Echo be brief, Saturnia is abroad,
And if she hear, she'll storm at Jove's high will.

CUP.  I will, kind Mercury, be brief as time.
Vouchsafe me, I may do him these last rites,
But kiss his flower, and sing some mourning strain
Over his wat'ry hearse.

MER.  Thou dost obtain;
I were no son to Jove, should I deny thee,
Begin, and more to grace thy cunning voice
The humorous air shall mix her solemn tunes
With thy sad words: strike, music from the spheres,
And with your golden raptures swell our ears.

ECHO. [ACCOMPANIED]  Slow, slow fresh fount, keep time with my salt tears:
Yet slower, yet; O faintly, gentle springs:
List to the heavy part the music bears,
Woe weeps out her division when she sings.
Droop herbs, and flowers,
Fall grief and showers;
Our beauties are not ours;
O, I could still,
Like melting snow upon some craggy hill,
Drop, drop, drop, drop,
Since nature's pride is now a wither'd daffodil. --

MER.  Now have you done?

CUP.  Done presently, good Hermes: bide a little;
Suffer my thirsty eye to gaze awhile,
But e'en to taste the place, and I am vanish'd.

MER.  Forego thy use and liberty of tongue,
And thou mayst dwell on earth, and sport thee there;

ECHO.  Here young Acteon fell, pursued, and torn
By Cynthia's wrath, more eager then his hounds;
And here --  ah me, the place is fatal! -- see
The weeping Niobe, translated hither
From Phrygian mountains; and by Phoebe rear'd,
As the proud trophy of her sharp revenge.

MER.  Nay but hear --

ECHO.  But here, O here, the fountain of self-love,
In which, Latona, and her careless nymphs,
Regardless of my sorrows bathe themselves
In hourly pleasures.

MER.  Stint thy babbling tongue!
Fond Echo, thou profan'st the grace is done thee.
So idle worldlings merely made of voice,
Censure the powers above them.  Come away,
Jove calls thee hence; and his will brooks no stay.

ECHO.  O, stay: I have but one poor thought to clothe,
In airy garments, and then, faith, I go.
Henceforth, thou treacherous and murdering spring,
Be ever call'd the Fountain of Self-Love:
And with thy water let this curse remain,
As an inseperate plague, that who but taste
A drop thereof, may, with the instant touch,
Grow dotingly enamour'd on themselves.
Now, Hermes, I have finish'd.

MER.  Then thy speech
Must here forsake thee, Echo, and thy voice,
As it was wont, rebound but the last words.
Fare well.

ECHO.  [RETIRING.]  Well.

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

ENTER AMORPHUS, HASTILY.
AMO.  Dear spark of beauty, make not so fast away:

ECHO.  Away.

MER.  Stay, let me observe this portent yet.

AMO.  I am neither your Minotaur, nor your Centaur, nor your satyr, nor
your hyaena, nor your babion, but your mere traveller, believe me.

ECHO. Leave me.

MER.  I guess'd it should be some travelling motion pursued Echo so.

AMO.  Know you from whom you fly? or whence

ECHO.  Hence.

AMO.  This is somewhat above strange: A nymph of her feature and lineament,
to be so preposterously rude! well, I will but cool myself at yon spring
and follow her.

MER.  Nay, then, I am familiar with the issue: I will leave you too.
EXIT.

AMOR.  I am a rhinoceros, if I had thought a creature of her symmetry would
have dared so improportionable and abrupt a digression. -- Liberal and
divine fount, suffer my profane hand to take of thy bounties.  [TAKES UP
SOME OF THE WATER.]  By the purity of my taste, here is most ambrosiac
water; I will sup of it again.  By thy favour, sweet fount.  See, the
water. a more running, subtile, and humorous nymph than she permits me to
touch, and handle her.  What should I infer? If my behaviours had been of a
cheap or customary garb; my accent or phrase vulgar; my garments trite; my
countenance illiterate, or unpractised in the encounter of a beautiful and
brave attired piece; then I might, with some change of colour have
suspected my faculties: but, knowing myself an essence so sublimated and
refined by travel; of so studied and well exercised a gesture; so alone in
fashion, able to render the face of any statesman living; and to speak the
mere extraction of language, one that hath now made the sixth return upon
venture; and was your first that ever enrich'd his country with the true
laws of the duello; whose optics have drunk the spirit of beauty in some
eight score and eighteen prince's courts, where I have resided, and been
there fortunate in the amours of three hundred forty and five ladies, all
nobly, if not princely descended; whose names I have in catalogue:  To
conclude, in all so happy, as even admiration herself doth seem to fasten
her kisses upon me: -- certes, I do neither see, nor feel, nor taste, nor
savour the least steam or fume of a reason, that should invite this
foolish, fastidious nymph, so peevishly to abandon me.  Well, let the
memory of her fleet into air; my thoughts and I am for this other element,
water.

ENTER CRITES AND ASOTUS.

CRI.  What, the well dieted Amorphus become a water-drinker!  I see he
means not to write verses then.

ASO.  No, Crites! why?

CRI.  Because --
Nulla placere diu, nec vivere carmina possunt,
Quae scribuntur aquae potoribus.

AMO. What say you to your Helicon?

CRI.  O, the Muses' well!  that's ever excepted.

AMO.  Sir, your Muses have no such water, I assure you; your nectar, or the
juice of your nepenthe, is nothing to it; 'tis above your metheglin,
believe it.

ASO.  Metheglin! what is that, sir?  may I be so audacious to demand?

AMO.  A kind of Greek wine I have met with, sir, in my travels; it is the
same that Demosthenes usually drunk, in the composure of all his exquisite
and mellifluous orations.

CRI.  That's to be argued, Amorphus, if we may credit Lucian, who, in his
'Encomio Demosthenis', affirms, he neverdrunk but water in any of his
compositions.

AMO.  Lucian is absurd, he knew nothing: I will believe my own travels
before all the Lucians of Europe.  He doth feed you with fittons, figments,
and leasings.

CRI.  Indeed, I think, next a traveller, he does prettily well.

AMO.  I assure you it was wine, I have tasted it, and from the hand of an
Italian antiquary, who derives it authentically from the duke of Ferrara's
bottles.  How name you the gentleman you are in rank with there, sir?

CRI.  'Tis Asotus, son to the late deceased Philargyrus, the citizen.

AMO.  Was his father of any eminent place or means?

CRI.  He was to have been praetor next year.

AMO.  Ha! a pretty formal young gallant, in good sooth; pity he is not more
genteelly propagated.  Hark you, Crites, you may say to him what I am, if
you please; though I affect not popularity, yet I would be loth to stand
out to any, whom you shall vouchsafe to call friend.

CRI.  Sir, I fear I may do wrong to your sufficiencies in the reporting
them, by forgetting or misplacing someone: yourself can best inform him of
yourself sir; except you had some catalogue or list of your faculties ready
drawn, which you would request me to show him for you, and him to take
notice of.

AMO.  This Crites is sour: [ASIDE.] I will think, sir.

CRI.  Do so, sir. -- O heaven! that anything in the likeness of man should
suffer these rack'd extremities, for the uttering of his sophisticate good
parts.
[ASIDE.

ASO.  Crites, I have a suit to you; but you must not deny me; pray you make
this gentleman and I friends.

CRI.  Friends!  why, is there any difference between you?

ASO.  No, I mean acquaintance, to know one another.

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

ASO.  In good faith, he is a most excellent rare man, I warrant him.

CRI.  'Slight, they are mutually enamour'd by this time.

ASO.  Will you, sweet Crites?

CRI.  Yes, yes.

ASO.  Nay, but when? you'll defer it now, and forget it.

CRI.  Why, is it a thing of such present necessity, that it requires so
violent a dispatch!

ASO.  No, but would I might never stir, he's a most ravishing man!  Good
Crites, you shall endear me to you, in good faith; la!

CRI.  Well, your longing shall be satisfied, sir.

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

CRI.  Leave it to me, I'll forget none of your dear graces, I warrant you.

ASO.  Nay, I know you can better marshal these affairs than I can -- O
gods! I'd give all the world, if I had it, for abundance of such
acquaintance.

CRI.  What ridiculous circumstance might I devise now, to bestow this
reciprocal brace of butterflies one upon another?
[ASIDE.

AMO.  Since I trod on this side the Alps, I was not so frozen in my
invention.  Let me see: to accost him with some choice remnant of Spanish,
or Italian! that would indifferently express my languages now: marry, then,
if he shall fall out to be ignorant, it were both hard, and harsh.  How
else? step into some 'ragioni del state', and so make my induction! that
were above him too; and out of his element I fear,  Feign to have seen him
in Venice or Padua! or some face near his in similitude! 'tis too pointed
and open. No, it must be a more quaint and collateral device, as -- stay:
to frame some encomiastic speech upon this our metropolis, or the wise
magistrates thereof, in which politic number, 'tis odds but his father
fill'd up a room? descend into a particular admiration of their justice,
for the due measuring of coals, burning of cans, and such like?  as also
their religion, in pulling down a superstitious cross, and advancing a
Venus; or Priapus, in place of it? ha! 'twill do well.  Or to talk of some
hospital, whose walls record his father a
benefactor?  or of so many buckets bestow'd on his parish church in his
lifetime, with his name at length, for want of arms, trickt upon them?  any
of these.  Or to praise the cleanness of the street wherein he dwelt? or
the provident painting of his posts against he should have been praetor?
or, leaving his parent, come to some special ornament about himself, as his
rapier, or some other of his accountrements?  I have it: thanks, gracious
Minerva!

ASO.  Would I had but once spoke to him, and then -- He comes to me!

AMO.  'Tis a most curious and neatly wrought band this same, as I have
seen, sir.

ASO.  O lord, sir.

AMO.  You forgive the humour of mine eye, in observing it.

CRI.  His eye waters after it, it seems.
[ASIDE.

ASO.  O lord, sir! there needs no such apology I assure you.

CRI.  I am anticipated; they'll make a solemn deed of gift of themselves,
you shall see.

AMO.  Your riband too does most gracefully in troth.

ASO.  'Tis the most genteel and received wear now, sir.

AMO.  Believe me, sir, I speak it not to humour you -- I have not seen a
young gentleman, generally, put on his clothes with more judgment.

ASO.  O, 'tis your pleasure to say so, sir.

AMO.  No, as I am virtuous, being altogether untravelled, it strikes me
into wonder.

ASO.  I do purpose to travel, sir, at spring.

AMO.  I think I shall affect you, sir.  This last speech of yours hath
begun to make you dear to me.

ASO.  O lord, sir!  I would there were anything in me, sir, that might
appear worthy the least worthiness of your worth, sir.  I protest, sir.  I
should endeavour to shew it, sir, with more than common regard sir.

CRI.  O, here's rare motley, sir.
[ASIDE.

AMO.   Both your desert, and your endeavours are plentiful, suspect them
not: but your sweet disposition to travel, I assure you, hath made you
another myself in mine eye, and struck me enamour'd on your beauties.

ASO.  I would I were the fairest lady of France for your sake, sir! and yet
I would travel too.

AMO.  O, you should digress from yourself else: for, believe it, your
travel is your only thing that rectifies, or, as the Italian says, 'vi
rendi pronto all' attioni', makes you fit for action.

ASO.  I think it be great charge though, sir.

AMO.  Charge! why 'tis nothing for a gentleman that goes private, as
yourself, or so; my Intelligence shall quit my charge at all time,  Good
faith, this hat hath possest mine eye exceedingly; 'tis so pretty and
fantastic: what! is it a beaver?

ASO.  Ay, sir, I'll assure you 'tis a beaver, it cost me eight crowns but
this morning.

AMO.  After your French account?

ASO.  Yes, sir.

CRI.  And so near his head!  beshrew me, dangerous.
[ASIDE.

AMO.  A very pretty fashion, believe me, and a most novel kind of trim:
your band is conceited too!

ASO.  Sir, it is all at your service.

AMO.  O, pardon me.

ASO.  I beseech you, sir, if you please to wear it, you shall do me a most
infinite grace.

CRI.  'Slight, will he be prais'd out of his clothes?

ASO.  By heaven, sir, I do not offer it you after the Italian manner; I
would you should conceive so of me.

AMO.  Sir, I shall fear to appear rude in denying your courtesies,
especially being invited by so proper a distinction: May I pray your name,
sir?

ASO.  My name is Asotus, sir.

AMO.  I take your love, gentle Asotus, but let me win you to receive this,
in exchange. --
[THEY EXCHANGE BEAVERS.

CRI.  Heart!  they'll change doublets anon.
[ASIDE.

AMO.  And, from this time, esteem yourself in the first rank of those few
whom I profess to love.  What make you in company of this scholar here?  I
will bring you known to gallants, as Anaides of the ordinary, Hedon the
courtier, and others, whose society shall render you graced, and respected:
this is a trivial fellow, too mean, too cheap,  too coarse for you to
converse with.

ASO.  'Slid, this is not worth a crown, and mine cost me eight but this
morning.

CRI.  I looked when he would repent him, he has begun to be sad a good while.

AMO.  Sir, shall I say to you for that hat?  Be not so sad, be not so sad:
It is a relic I could not so easily have departed with, but as the
hieroglyphic of my affection; you shall alter it to what form you please,
it will take any block; I have received it varied on record to the three
thousandth time, and not so few:  It hath these virtues beside: your head
shall not ache under it, nor your brain leave you, without license; It will
preserve your complexion to eternity; for no beam of the sun, should you
wear it under 'zona torrida', hath power to approach it by two ells.  It is
proof against thunder, and enchantment; and was given me by a great man in
Russia, as an especial prized present; and constantly affirm'd to be the
hat that accompanied the politic Ulysses in his tedious, and ten years'
travels.

ASO.  By Jove, I will not depart withal, whosoever would give me a million.

ENTER COS AND PROSAITES.
COS.  Save you sweet bloods! does any of you want a creature, or a dependent?

CRI.  Beshrew me, a fine blunt slave!

AMO.  A page of good timber! it will now be my grace to entertain him
first, though I cashier him again in private. -- How art thou call'd?

COS.  Cos, sir, Cos.

CRI.  Cos! how happily hath fortune furnish'd him with a whetstone?

AMO.  I do entertain you, Cos; conceal your quality till we be private; if
your parts be worthy of me, I will countenance you; if not, catechise you.
-- Gentles, shall we go?

ASO.  Stay, sir:  I'll but entertain this other fellow, and then -- I have
a great humour to taste of this water too, but I'll come again alone for
that -- mark the place. -- What's your name, youth?

PROS.  Prosaites, sir.

ASO.  Prosaites!  a very fine name; Crites, is it not?

CRI.  Yes, and a very ancient one, sir, the Beggar.

ASO.  Follow me, good Prosaites; let's talk.
[EXEUNT ALL BUT CRITES.

CRI.  He will rank even with you, ere't be long.
If you hold on your course.  O, vanity
How are thy painted beauties doted on,
By light and empty idiots! how pursued
With open, and extended appetite!
How they do sweat, and run themselves from breath,
Raised on their toes, to catch thy airy forms,
Still turning giddy, till they reel like drunkards,
That buy the merry madness of one hour
With the long irksomeness of following time!
O, how despised and base a thing is man,
If he not strive to erect his grovelling thoughts
Above the strain of flesh? But how more cheap,
When, ev'n his best and understanding part,
The crown, and strength of all his faculties,
Floats like a dead drown'd body, on the stream
Of vulgar humour, mixt with common'st dregs!
I suffer for their guilt now, and my soul,
Like one that looks on ill-affected eyes,
Is hurt with mere Intention on their follies.
Why will I view them then, my sense might ask me?
Or is't a rarity, or some new object,
That strains my strict observance to this point?
O, would it were! therein I could afford
My spirit should draw a little near to theirs,
To gaze on novelties; so vice were one.
Tut, she is stale, rank, foul; and were it not
That those that woo her greet her with lock'd eyes,
In spight of all th' Impostures, paintings, drugs,
Which her bawd, Custom, dawbs her cheeks withal,
She would betray her loath'd and leprous face,
And fright the enamour'd dotards from themselves:
But such is the perverseness of our nature,
That if we once but fancy levity,
How antic and ridiculous soe'er
It suit with us, yet will our muffled thought
Choose rather not to see it, then avoid it:
And if we can but banish our own sense,
We act our mimic tricks with that free license,
That lust, that pleasure, that security;
As if we practised in a paste-board case,
And no one saw the motion, but the motion.
Well, check thy passion, least it grow too loud:
While fools are pitied, they wax fat, and proud.


----------------------------------------------
ACT II

SCENE I. -- THE COURT.

ENTER CUPID AND MERCURY, DISGUISED AS PAGES.
CUP.  Why, this was most unexpectedly followed, my divine delicate Mercury,
by the beard of Jove, thou art a precious deity.

MER.  Nay, Cupid, leave to speak improperly; since we are turn'd cracks,
let's study to be like cracks; practise their language, and behaviours, and
not with a dead imitation:  Act freely, carelessly, and capriciously, as if
our veins ran with quicksilver, and not utter a phrase, but what shall come
forth steep'd in the very brine of conceit, and sparkle like salt in fire.

CUP.  That is not every one's happiness, Hermes:  Though you can presume
upon the easiness and dexterity of your wit, you shall give me leave to be
a little jealous of mine; and not desperately to hazard it after your
capering humour.

MER.  Nay, then, Cupid, I think we must have you hood-wink'd again; for you
are grown too provident, since your eyes were at liberty.

CUP.   Not so, Mercury, I am still blind Cupid to thee.

MER.  And what to the lady nymph you serve?

CUP.   Troth, page, boy, and sirrah: these are all my titles.

MER.  Then thou hast not altered thy name with thy disguise?

CUP.  O, no, that had been supererogation; you shall never hear your
courtier call but by one of these three.

MER.  Faith, then both our fortunes are the same.

CUP.  Why, what parcel of man hast thou lighted on for a master?

MER.  Such a one, as before I begin to decipher him, I dare not affirm to
be any thing less than a courtier.  So much he is during this open time of
revels, and would be longer, but that his means are to leave him shortly
after.  His name is Hedon, a gallant wholly consecrated to his pleasures.

CUP.  Hedon! he uses much to my lady's chamber, I think.

MER.  How is she call'd, and then I can shew thee?

CUP.  Madame Philautia.

MER.  O ay, he affects her very particularly indeed.  These are his graces.
He doth (besides me) keep a barber and a monkey; he has a rich wrought
waistcoat to entertain his visitants in, with a cap almost suitable.  His
curtains and bedding are thought to be his own; his bathing-tub is not
suspected.  He loves to have a fencer, a pedant, and a musician seen in his
lodging a-mornings.

CUP.  And not a poet?

MER.  Fie no: himself is a rhymer, and that's a thought better than a poet.
He is not lightly within to his mercer, no, though he come when he takes
physic, which is commonly after his play.  He beats a tailor very well, but
a stocking-seller admirably: and so consequently any one he owes money to,
that dares not resist him.  He never makes general invitement, but against
the publishing of a new suit; marry, then you shall have more drawn to his
lodging, then come to the launching of some three ships; especially if he
be furnish'd with supplies for the retiring of his old wardrobe from pawn:
if not, he does hire a stock of apparel, and some forty or fifty pound in
gold for that forenoon to shew.  He is thought a very necessary perfume for
the presence, and for that only cause welcome thither: six milliners' shops
afford you not the like scent.  He courts ladies with how many great horse
he hath rid that morning, or how oft he has done the whole, or half the
pommado in a seven-night before: and sometime ventures so far upon the
virtue of his pomander, that he dares tell 'em, how many shirts he has
sweat at tennis that week; but wisely conceals so many dozen of balls he is
on the score.  Here he comes, that is all this.

ENTER HEDON, ANAIDES, AND GELAIA.
HED.  Boy!

MER.  Sir.

HED.  Are any of the ladies in the presence?

MER.  None yet, sir.

HED.  Give me some gold, -- more.

ANA.  Is that thy boy, Hedon?

HED.  Ay, what think'st thou of him?

ANA.  I'd geld him; I warrant he has the philosopher's stone.

HED.  Well said, my good melancholy devil: sirrah, I have devised one or
two of the prettiest oaths, this morning in my bed, as ever thou heard'st,
to protest withal in the presence.

ANA.  Prithee, let's hear them.

HED.  Soft, thou'lt use them afore me.

ANA.  No, d--mn me then -- I have more oaths than I know how to utter, by
this air.

HED.  Faith, one is, "By the tip of your ear, sweet lady." Is it not
pretty, and genteel?

ANA.  Yes, for the person 'tis applied to, a lady.  It should be light, and --

HED.  Nay, the other is better, exceeds it much:  the Invention is farther
fet too.  "By the white valley that lies between the alpine hills of your
bosom, I protest. --

ANA.  Well, you travell'd for that, Hedon.

MER.  Ay, in a map, where his eyes were but blind guides to his
understanding, it seems.

HED.  And then I have a salutation will nick all, by this caper: hay!

ANA.  How is that?

HED.  You know I call Madam Philautia, my Honour; and she calls me her
Ambition.  Now, when I meet her in the presence anon, I will come to her,
and say, "Sweet Honour, I have hitherto contented my sense with the lilies
of your hand; but now I will taste the roses
of your lip"; and, withal kiss her: to which she cannot but blushing
answer, "Nay now you are too ambitious".  And then do I reply: "I cannot be
too Ambitious of Honour, sweet lady.  Will't not be good? ha? ha?

ANA.  O, assure your soul.

HED.  By heaven, I think 'twill be excellent, and a very politic
achievement of a kiss.

ANA. I have thought upon one for Moria of a sudden too, if it take.

HED.  What is't, my dear Invention?

ANA.  Marry, I will come to her, (and she always wears a muff, if you be
remembered,) and I will tell her, "Madam your whole self cannot but be
perfectly wise; for your hands have wit enough to keep themselves warm."

HED.  Now, before Jove, admirable!  [GELAIA LAUGHS.] Look, thy page takes
it too.  By Phoebus, my sweet facetious rascal, I could eat water-gruel
with thee a month, for this jest, my dear rogue.

ANA.  O, Hercules 'tis your only dish; above all your potatoes, or
oyster-pies in the world.

HED.  I have ruminated upon a most rare wish too, and the prophecy to it;
but I'll have some friend to be the prophet; as thus: I do wish myself one
of my mistress's cioppini.  Another demands, Why would he be one of his
mistress's cioppini?  a third answers, Because he would make her higher:  a
fourth shall say, That will make her proud: And a fifth shall conclude,
Then do I prophesy, pride will have a fall; -- and he shall give it her.

ANA.  I will be your prophet.  Gods so, it will be most exquisite; thou art
a fine inventious rogue, sirrah.

HED.  Nay, and I have posies for rings, too, and riddles, that they dream
not of.

ANA.  Tut, they'll do that, when they come to sleep on them, time enough:
But were thy devices never in the presence yet, Hedon?

HED.  O, no, I disdain that.

ANA.  'Twere good we went afore then, and brought them acquainted with the
room where they shall act, least the strangeness of it put them out of
countenance, when they should come forth.
[EXEUNT HEDON AND ANAIDES.

CUP.  Is that a courtier, too.

MER.  Troth, no; he has two essential parts of the courtier, pride and
ignorance; marry, the rest come somewhat after the ordinary gallant. 'Tis
Impudence itself, Anaides; one that speaks all that comes in his cheeks,
and will blush no more than a sackbut.  He lightly occupies the jester's
room at the table, and keeps laughter, Gelaia, a wench in page's attire,
following him in place of a squire, whom he now and then tickles with some
strange ridiculous stuff, utter'd as his land came to him by chance.  He
will censure or discourse of any thing, but as absurdly as you would wish.
His fashion is not to take knowledge of him that is beneath him in clothes.
He never drinks below the salt.  He does naturally admire his wit that
wears gold lace, or tissue:  stabs any man that speaks more contemptibly of
the scholar then he.  He is a great proficient in all the illiberal
sciences, as cheating, drinking, swaggering, whoring, and such like: never
kneels but to pledgehealths, nor prays, but for a pipe of pudding tobacco.
He will blaspheme in his shirt.  The oaths which he vomits at one supper
would maintain a town of garrison in good swearing a twelvemonth.  One
other genuine quality he has which crowns all these, and that is this:  to
a friend in want, he will not depart with the weight of a soldered groat,
lest the world might censure him prodigal, or report him a gull:  marry, to
his cockatrice or punquetto, half a dozen taffata gowns or satin kirtles in
a pair or two of months, why, they are nothing.

CUP.  I commend him, he is one of my clients.
[THEY RETIRE TO THE BACK OF THE STAGE.

ENTER AMORPHUS, ASOTUS, AND COS.
AMO.  Come, sir.  You are now within regard of the presence, and see, the
privacy of this room how sweetly it offers itself to our retired
intendments. -- Page, cast a vigilant and enquiring eye about, that we be
not rudely surprised, by the approach of some ruder stranger.

COS.  I warrant you, sir.  I'll tell you when the wolf enters, fear
nothing.

MER.  O what a mass of benefit shall we possess, in being the invisible
spectators of this strange show now to be acted!

AMO.  Plant yourself there, sir; and observe me.  You shall now, as well be
the ocular, as the ear-witness, how clearly I can refel that paradox, or
rather pseuodox, I assure you, is not so, in any politic creature:  for
instance; I will now give you the particular and distinct face of every
your most noted species of persons, as your merchant, your scholar, your
soldier, your lawyer, courtier, etc., and each of these so truly, as you
would swear, but that your eye shall see the variation of the lineament, it
were my most proper and genuine aspect.  First, for your merchant, or
city-face, 'tis thus; a dull, plodding-face, still looking in a direct
line, forward:  there is no great matter in this face.  Then have you your
student's, or academic face; which is here an honest, simple, and
methodical face; but somewhat more spread then the former.  The third is
your soldiers face, a menacing, and astounding face, that looks broad, and
big: the grace of his face consisteth much in a beard.  The anti-face to
this, is your lawyer's face, a contracted, subtile, and Intricate face,
full of quirks, and turnings, a labyrinthean face, now angularly, now
circularly, every way aspected.  Next is your statist's face, a serious,
solemn, and supercilious face, full of formal, and square gravity; the eye,
for the most part, deeply and artificially shadow'd; there is great
judgment required in the making of this face.  But now, to come to your
face of faces, or courtier's face; 'tis of three sorts, according to our
subdivision of a courtier, elementary, practic, and theoric.  Your courtier
theoric, is he that hath arrived to his farthest, and doth now know the
court rather by speculation than practise; and this is his face: a
fastidious and oblique face; that looks as it went with a vice, and were
screw'd thus.  Your courtier practic is he that is yet in his path, his
course, his way, and hath not touch'd the punctilio or point of his hopes;
his face is here: a most promising, open, smooth, and overflowing face,
that seems as it would run and pour itself into you:  somewhat a northerly
face.  Your courtier elementary, is one but newly enter'd, or as it were in
the alphabet, or 'ut-re-mi-fa-sol-la' of courtship.  Note well this face,
for it is this you must practise.

ASO.  I'll practise them all, if you please, sir.

AMO.  Ay, hereafter you may: and it will not be altogether an ungrateful
study.  For, let your soul be assured of this, in any rank or profession
whatever, the most general, or major part of opinion goes with the face and
simply respects nothing else.  Therefore, if that can be made exactly,
curiously,
exquisitely, thoroughly, it is enough:  but for the present you shall only
apply yourself to this face of the elementary courtier, a light, revelling,
and protesting face, now blushing, now smiling, which you may help much
with a wanton wagging of your head, thus, (a feather will teach you,) or
with kissing your finger that hath the ruby, or playing with some string of
your band, which is a most quaint kind of melancholy besides:  or, if among
ladies, laughing loud, and crying up your own wit, though perhaps borrow'd,
it is not amiss.   Where is your page?  call for your casting-bottle, and
place your mirror in your hat, as I told you; so!  Come, look not pale,
observe me, set your face, and enter.

MER.  O, for some excellent painter, to have taken the copy  of all these
faces!

ASO.  Prosaites!

AMO.  Fie! I premonish you of that: In the court, boy, lacquey, or sirrah.

COS.  Master 'lupus in' -- O, 'tis Prosaites.

ENTER PROSAITES.
ASO.  Sirrah, prepare me my casting-bottle; I think I must be enforced to
purchase me another page; you see how at hand Cos waits here.
EXEUNT AMORPHUS, ASOTUS, COS, AND PROSAITES.

MER.  So will he too in time.

CUP.  What's he Mercury?

MER.  A notable smelt.  One that hath newly entertain'd the beggar to
follow him, but cannot get him to wait near enough.  'Tis Asotus, the heir
of Philargyrus; but first I'll give ye the other's character, which may
make his the clearer.  He that is with him is Amorphus, a traveller, one so
made out of the mixture and shreds of forms, that himself is truly
deform'd.  He walks most commonly with a clove or pick-tooth in his mouth,
he is the very mint of compliment, all his behaviours are printed, his face
is another volume of essays, and his beard is an Aristarchus.  He speaks
all cream skimm'd, and more affected than a dozen of waiting women.  He is
his own promoter in every place.  The wife of the ordinary gives him his
diet to maintain her table in discourse; which, indeed, is a mere tyranny
over her other guests, for he will usurp all the talk: ten constables are
not so tedious.  He is no great shifter; once a year his apparel is ready
to revolt.  He doth use much to arbitrate quarrels, and fights himself,
exceeding well, out at a window.  He will lie cheaper than any beggar, and
louder then most clocks; for which he is right properly accommodated to the
Whetstone, his page.  The other gallant is his zany, and doth most of these
tricks after him; sweats to imitate him in every thing to a hair, except a
beard, which is not yet extant.  He doth learn to make strange sauces, to
eat anchovies, maccaroni, bovoli, fagioli, and caviare, because he loves
them; speaks as he speaks, looks, walks, goes so in clothes and fashion: is
in all as if he were moulded of him.
Marry, before they met, he had other very pretty sufficiencies, which yet
he retains some light impression of; as frequenting a dancing school, and
grievously torturing strangers with inquisition after his grace in his
galliard.  He buys a fresh acquaintance at any rate.  His eyes and his
raiment confer much together as he goes in the street.  He treads nicely
like the fellow that walks upon ropes, especially the first Sunday of his
silk stockings; and when he is most neat and new, you shall strip him with
commendations.

CUP.  Here comes another.
CRITES PASSES OVER THE STAGE.

MER.  Ay, but one of another strain, Cupid; This fellow weighs somewhat.

CUP.  His name Hermes?

MER.  Crites.  A creature of a most perfect and divine temper: one, in whom
the humours and elements are peaceably met, without emulation of
precedency; he is neither too fantastically melancholy, too slowly
phlegmatic, too lightly sanguine, or too rashly choleric; but in all so
composed and ordered; as it is clear Nature went about some full work, she
did more than make a man when she made him.  His discourse is like his
behaviour, uncommon, but not unpleasing; he is prodigal of neither.  He
strives rather to be that which men call) judicious, than to be thought so;
and is so truly learned, that he affects not to shew it.  He will think,
and speak his thought both freely; but as distant from depraving any other
man's merit, as proclaiming his own.  For his valour, 'tis such, that he
dares as little to offer any injury, as receive one.  In sum, he hath a
most ingenious and sweet spirit, a sharp and season'd wit, a straight judgement and a strong mind.  Fortune could never break him, or make him less.  he c
ounts it his pleasure to despise pleasures, and is more delighted with good
deeds than goods.  It is a competency to him that he can be virtuous.  He
doth neither covet nor fear; he hath too much reason to do either; and that
commends all things to him.

CUP.  No better then Mercury commends him.

MER.  O, Cupid, 'tis beyond my deity to give him his due praises:  I could
leave my place in heaven, to live among mortals, so I were sure to be no
other than he.

CUP.  'Slight, I believe he is your minion, you seem to be so ravish'd with
him.

MER.  He's one, I would not have a wry thought darted against, willingly.

CUP.  No, but a straight shaft in his bosom I'll promise him, if I am
Cytherea's son.

MER.  Shall we go, Cupid?

CUP.  Stay, and see the ladies now: they'll come presently.  I'll help to
paint them.

MER.  What lay colour upon colour! that affords but an ill blazon.

CUP.  Here come metal to help it, the lady Argurion.
[ARGURION PASSES OVER THE STAGE.

MER.  Money, money.

CUP.  The Same,  A nymph of a most wandering and giddy disposition,
humorous as the air, she'll run from gallant to gallant, as they sit at
primero in the presence, most strangely, and seldom stays with any.  She
spreads as she goes.  To-day you shall have her look as clear and fresh as
the morning, and to-morrow as melancholic as midnight.  She takes special
pleasure in a close obscure lodging, and for that cause visits the city so
often, where she has many secret true concealing favourites.  When she
comes abroad she's more loose and scattering than dust, and will fly from
place to place, as she were wrapped with a whirlwind.  Your young student,
for the most part, she affects not, only salutes him, and away: a poet, nor
a philosopher, she is hardly brought to take any notice of; no, though he
be some part of an alchemist.  She loves a player well, and a lawyer
infinitely; but your fool above all.  She can do much in the court for the
obtaining of any suit whatsoever, no door but flies open to her, her
presence is above a charm.  The worst in her is want of keeping state, and
too much descending into inferior and base offices; she's for any coarse
employment you will put upon her, as to be your procurer, or pander.

MER.  Peace, Cupid, here comes more work for you, another character or two.

ENTER PHANTASTE, MORIA, AND PHILAUTIA.

PHA.  Stay sweet Philautia; I'll but change my fan, and go presently.

MOR.  Now, in very good serious, ladies, I will have this order revers'd,
the presence must be better maintain'd from you: a quarter past eleven, and
ne'er a nymph in prospective!  Beshrew my hand, there must be a reform'd
discipline.  Is that your new ruff, sweet lady-bird?  By my troth, 'tis
most intricately rare.

MER.  Good Jove, what reverend gentlewoman in years might this be?

CUP. 'Tis madam Moria, guardian of the nymphs; one that is not now to be
persuaded of her wit; she will think herself wise against all the judgments
that come.  A lady made all of voice and air, talks any thing of any thing.
She is like one of your ignorant poetasters of the time, who, when they
have got acquainted with a strange word, never rest till they have wrung it
in, though it loosen the whole fabric of their sense.

MER.  That was pretty and sharply noted, Cupid.

CUP.  She will tell you, Philosophy was a fine reveller, when she was
young, and a gallant, and that then, though she say it, she was thought to
be the dame Dido and Helen of the court:  as also, what a sweet dog she had
this time four years, and how it was called Fortune; and that, if the Fates
had not cut his thread, he had been a dog to have given entertainment to
any gallant in this kingdom; and unless she had whelp'd it herself, she
could not have loved a thing better in this world.

MER.  O, I prithee no more; I am full of her.

CUP.  Yes, I must needs tell you she composes a sack-posset well; and would
court a young page sweetly, but that her breath is against it.

MER.  Now, her breath or something more strong protect me from her! the
other, the other, Cupid.

CUP.  O, that's my lady and mistress madam Philautia.  She admires not
herself for any one particularity, but for all:  she is fair, and she knows
it; she has a pretty light wit too, and she knows it; she can dance, and
she knows that too; play at shuttle-cock, and that too:  no quality she
has, but she shall take a very particular knowledge of, and most lady-like
commend it to you.  You shall have her at any time read you the history of
herself, and very subtilely run over another lady's sufficiencies to come
to her own.  She has a good superficial judgement in painting; and would
seem to have so in poetry.  A most complete lady in the opinion of some
three beside herself.

PHI.  Faith, how liked you my quip to Hedon, about the garter?  Was't not
witty?

MOR.  Exceeding witty and Integrate: you did so aggravate the jest withal.

PHI.  And did I not dance movingly last night?

MOR.  Movingly!  out of measure, in troth, sweet charge.

MER.  A happy commendation, to dance out of measure.

MOR.  Save only you wanted the swim in the turn:  O! when I was at fourteen --

PHI.  Nay, that's mine own from any nymph in the court I'm sure on't;
therefore you mistake me in that guardian:  both the swim and the trip are
properly mine; every body will affirm it that has any judgement in dancing,
I assure you.

PHA.  Come now, Philautia I am for you; shall we go?

PHI.  Ay, good Phantaste:  What! have you changed your head-tire?

PHA.  Yes, faith; the other was so near the common, it had no extraordinary
grace; besides, I had worn it almost a day, in good troth.

PHI.  I'll be sworn, this is most excellent for the device, and rare; 'tis
after the Italian print we look'd on t'other night.

PHA.  'Tis so: by this fan, I cannot abide anything that savours the poor
over-worn cut, that has any kindred with it; I must have variety, I: this
mixing in fashion, I hate it worse than to burn juniper in my chamber, I
protest.

PHI.  And yet we cannot have a new peculiar court-tire, but these retainers
will have it; these suburb Sunday-waiters; these courtiers for high days; I
know not what I should call 'em. --

PHA.  O, ay, they do most pitifully imitate; but I have a tire a coming,
i'faith, shall --

MOR.  In good certain, madam, it makes you look most heavenly; but, lay
your hand on your heart, you never skinn'd a new beauty more prosperously
in your life, nor more metaphysically: look good lady, sweet lady, look.

PHI.  'Tis very clear and well, believe me.  But if you had seen mine
yesterday, when 'twas young, you would have -- Who's your doctor Phantaste?

PHA.  Nay, that's counsel Philautia; you shall pardon me:  yet I'll assure
you he is the most dainty, sweet, absolute rare man of the whole college.
O! his very looks, his discourse, his behaviour, all he does is physic, I
protest.

PHI.  For heaven's sake, his name, good dear Phantaste?

PHA.  No, no, no, no, no, no, believe me, not for a million of heavens:  I
will not make him cheap. Fie --
EXEUNT PHANTASTE, MORIA, AND PHILAUTIA.

CUP.  There is a nymph too of a most curious and elaborate strain, light,
all motion, an ubiquitary, she is every where, Phantaste --

MER.  Her very name speaks her, let her pass.  But are these, Cupid, the
stars of Cynthia's court?  Do these nymphs attend upon Diana?

CUP.  They are in her court, Mercury, but not as stars; these never come in
the presence of Cynthia.  The nymphs that make her train are the divine
Arete, Time, Phronesis, Thauma, and others of that high sort.  These are
privately brought in by Moria in this licentious time, against her
knowledge; and, like so many meteors, will vanish when she appears.

ENTER PROSAITES SINGING, FOLLOWED BY GELAIA AND COS, WITH BOTTLES.
Come follow me, my wags, and say, as I say,
There's no riches but in rags, hey day, hey day:
You that profess this art, come away, come away,
And help to bear a part.  Hey day, hey day, etc.

[MERCURY AND CUPID COME FORWARD.
MER.  What, those that were our fellow pages but now, so soon preferr'd to
be yeomen of the bottles!  The mystery, the mystery, good wags?

CUP.  Some diet-drink, they have the guard of.

PRO.  No, sir, we are going in quest of a strange fountain, lately found out.

CUP.  By whom?

COS.  My master or the great discoverer, Amorphus.

MER.  Thou hast well entitled him, Cos, for he will discover all he knows.

GEL.  Ay, and a little more too, when the spirit is upon him.

PRO.  O, the good travelling gentleman yonder, has caused such a drought in
the presence, with reporting the wonders of this new water, that all the
ladies and gallants lie languishing upon the rushes, like so many pounded
cattle in the midst of harvest, sighing one to another, and gasping, as if
each of them expected a cock from the fountain, to be brought into his
mouth; and without we return quickly, they are all, as a youth would say,
no better then a few trouts cast ashore, or a dish of eels in a sand-bag.

MER.  Well then, you were best dispatch and have a care of them.  Come
Cupid, thou and I'll go peruse this dry wonder.
[EXEUNT.

----------------------------------------------

ACT III

SCENE I. -- AN APARTMENT AT THE COURT.

ENTER AMORPHUS AND ASOTUS.

AMO.  Sir, let not this discountenance or disgallant you a whit; you must
not sink under the first disaster.  It is with your young grammatical
courtier, as with your neophyte player, a thing usual to be daunted at the
first presence or interview:  you saw, there was Hedon, and Anaides, far
more practised gallants than yourself, who were both out, to comfort you.
It is no disgrace, no more than for your adventurous reveller to fall by
some inauspicious chance in his galliard, or for some subtile politic to
undertake the bastinado, that the state might think worthily of him, and
respect him as a man well beaten to the world.  What? hath your tailor
provided the property we spake of at your chamber, or no?

ASO.  I think he has.

AMO.  Nay, I entreat you, be not so flat, and melancholic.  Erect your
mind: you shall redeem this with the courtship I will teach you against the
afternoon.  Where eat you to-day?

ASO.  Where you please, sir; any where, I.

AMO.  Come, let us go and taste some light dinner, a dish of sliced caviar,
or so; and after, you shall practise an hour at your lodging some few forms
that I have recall'd.  If you had but so far gathered your spirits to you,
as to have taken up a rush when you were out, and wagg'd it thus, or
cleansed your teeth with it; or but turn'd aside, and feign'd some business
to whisper with your page, till you had recovered yourself, or but found
some slight stain in your stocking, or any other pretty Invention, so it
had been sudden, you might have come off with a most clear and courtly
grace.

ASO.  A poison of all! I think I was forespoke, I.

AMO.  No, I must tell you, you are not audacious enough; you must frequent
ordinaries a month more, to initiate yourself:  in which time, it will not
be amiss, if, in private, you keep good your acquaintance with Crites, or
some other of his poor coat; visit his lodging secretly and often; become
an earnest suitor to hear some of his labours.

ASO.  O Jove!  sir, I could never get him to read a line to me.

AMO.  You must then wisely mix yourself in rank with such as you know can;
and, as your ears do meet with a new phrase, or an acute jest, take it in:
a quick nimble memory will lift it away, and, at your next public meal, it
is your own.

ASO.  But I shall never utter it perfectly, sir.

AMO.  No matter, let it come lame.  In ordinary talk you shall play it
away, as you do your light crowns at primero:  it will pass.

ASO.  I shall attempt, sir.

AMO.  Do.  It is your shifting age for wit, and, I assure you, men must be
prudent.  After this you may to court, and there fall in, first with the
waiting-woman, then with the lady.  Put case they do retain you there, as a
fit property, to hire coaches some pair of months, or so; or to read them
asleep in afternoons upon some pretty pamphlet, to breathe you; why, it
shall in time embolden you to some farther achievement:  in the interim,
you may fashion yourself to be careless and impudent.

ASO.  How if they would have me to make verses?  I heard Hedon spoke to for
some.

AMO.  Why, you must prove the aptitude of your genius; if you find none,
you must hearken out a vein, and buy; provided you pay for the silence as
for the work, then you may securely call it your own.

ASO.  Yes, and I'll give out my acquaintance with all the best writers, to
countenance me the more.

AMO.  Rather seem not to know them, it is your best.  Ay, be wise, that you
never so much as mention the name of one, nor remember it mentioned; but if
they be offer'd to you in discourse, shake your light head, make between a
sad and a smiling face, pity some, rail at all, and commend yourself:  'tis
your only safe and unsuspected course.  Come, you shall look back upon the
court again to-day, and be restored to your colours:  I do partly aim at
the cause of your repulse -- which was ominous indeed -- for as you enter
at the door, there is opposed to you the frame of a wolf in the hangings,
which, surprising your eye suddenly, gave a false alarm to the heart; and
that was it called your blood out of your face, and so routed the whole
rank of your spirits:  I beseech you labour to forget it.  And remember, as
I inculcated to you before, for your comfort, Hedon and Anaides.
[EXEUNT.



SCENE II. -- ANOTHER APARTMENT IN THE SAME.

ENTER HEDON AND ANAIDES.
HEDON.  Heart, was there ever so prosperous an Invention thus unluckily
perverted and spoiled, by a whoreson book-worm, a candle-waster?

ANA.  Nay, be not impatient, Hedon.

HED.  'Slight, I would fain know his name.

ANA.  Hang him, poor grogan rascal, prithee think not of him: I'll send for
him to my lodging, and have him blanketed when thou wilt, man.

HED.  Ods so, I would thou couldst.  Look, here he comes.
ENTER CRITES, AND WALKS IN A MUSING POSTURE AT THE BACK OF THE STAGE.
Laugh at him, laugh at him; ha, ha, ha.

ANA.  Fough!  he smells all lamp-oil with studying by candle-light.

HED.  How confidently he went by us, and carelessly!  Never moved, nor
stirred at any thing!  Did you observe him?

ANA.  Ay, a pox on him, let him go, dormouse:  he is in a dream now.  He
has no other time to sleep, but thus when he walks abroad, to take the air.

HED.  'Sprecious, this afflicts me more than all the rest, that we should
so particularly direct our hate, and contempt against him, and he to carry
it thus without wound or passion!  'tis insufferable.

ANA.  'Slid, my dear Envy, if, thou but say'st the word now, I'll undo him
eternally for thee.

HED.  How, sweet Anaides?

ANA.  Marry, half a score of us get him in, one night, and make him pawn
his wit for a supper.

HED.  Away, thou hast such unseasonable jests!  By this heaven, I wonder at
nothing more than our gentlemen ushers, that will suffer a piece of serge
or perpetuana to come into the presence:  methinks they, should, out of
their experience, better distinguish the silken disposition of courtiers,
than to let such terrible coarse rags mix with us, able to fret any smooth
or gentle society to the threads, with their rubbing devices.

ANA.  Unless 'twere Lent, Ember-weeks, or fasting days, when the place is
most penuriously empty of all other good outsides.  D--n me, if I should
adventure on his company once more, without a suit of buff to defend my
wit!  he does nothing but stab, the slave!  How mischievously he cross'd
thy device of the prophecy, there?  and Moria, she comes without her muff
too, and there my invention was lost.

HED.  Well, I am resolved, what I'll do.

ANA.  What, my good spiritous spark?

HED.  Marry, speak all the venom I can of him; and poison his reputation in
every place where I come.

ANA.  'Fore God, most courtly.

HED.  And if I chance to be present where any question is made of his
sufficiencies, or of any thing he hath done private or public, I'll censure
it slightly, and ridiculously

ANA.  At any hand beware of that; so thou may'st draw thine own judgement
in suspect.  No, I'll instruct thee what thou shalt do, and by a safer
means: approve any thing thou hearest of his, to the received opinion of
it; but if it be extraordinary, give it from him to some other whom thou
more particularly affect'st; that's the way to plague him, and he shall
never come to defend himself.  'Slud, I'll give out all he does is dictated
from other men, and swear it too, if thou'lt have me, and that I know the
time and place where he stole it, though my soul be guilty of no such
thing; and that I think out of my heart, he hates such barren shifts: yet
to do thee a pleasure and him a disgrace, I'll damn myself, or do any thing.

HED.  Gramercy, my dear devil; we'll put it seriously in practice, i'faith.
EXEUNT HEDON AND ANAIDES.

CRI.  [COMING FORWARD.]   Do, good Detraction, do, and I the while
Shall shake thy spight off with a careless smile.
Poor piteous gallants! what lean idle slights
Their thoughts suggest to flatter their starv'd hopes!
As if I knew not how to entertain
These straw-devices; but, of force must yield
To the weak stroke of their calumnious tongues.
What should I care what every dor doth buz
In credulous ears?  It is a crown to me
That the best judgements can report me wrong'd;
Them liars; and their slanders impudent.
Perhaps, upon the rumour of their speeches,
Some grieved friend will whisper to me; Crites,
Men speak ill of thee.  So they be ill men,
If they spake worse, 'twere better:  for of such
To be dispraised, is the most perfect praise.
What can his censure hurt me, whom the world
Hath censured vile before me! If good Chrestus,
Euthus, or Phronimus, had spoke the words,
They would have moved me. and I should have call'd
My thoughts and actions to a strict account
Upon the hearing:  but when I remember,
'Tis Hedon and Anaides, alas, then
I think but what they are, and am not stirr'd.
The one a light voluptuous reveller,
The other, a strange arrogating puff,
Both impudent, and ignorant enough;
That talk as they are wont, not as I merit;
Traduce by custom, as most dogs do bark,
Do nothing out of judgment, but disease;
Speak ill, because they never could speak well:
And who'd be angry with this race of creatures?
What wise physician have we ever seen
Moved with a frantic man?  the same affects
That he doth bear to his sick patient,
Should a right mind carry to such as these;
And I do count it a most rare revenge,
That I can thus, with such a sweet neglect,
Pluck from them all the pleasure of their malice;
For that's the mark of all their enginous drifts,
To wound my patience, howso'er they seem
To aim at other objects; which if miss'd,
Their envy's like an arrow shot upright,
That, in the fall, endangers their own heads.

ENTER ARETE.
ARE. What, Crites!  where have you drawn forth the day,
You have not visited your jealous friends?

CRI.  Where I have seen, most honour'd Arete,
The strangest pageant, fashion'd like a court,
(At least I dreamt I saw it) so diffused,
So painted, pied, and full of rainbow strains;
As never yet, either by time, or place,
Was made the food to my distasted sense;
Nor can my weak imperfect memory
Now render half the forms unto my tongue,
That were convolved within this thrifty room.
Here stalks me by a proud and spangled sir,
That looks three handfuls higher then his foretop;
Savours himself alone, is only kind
And loving to himself; one that will speak
More dark and doubtful than six oracles!
Salutes a friend, as if he had a stitch;
Is his own chronicle, and scarce can eat
For regist'ring himself; is waited on
By mimics, jesters, panders, parasites,
And other such like prodigies of men.
He past, appears some mincing marmoset
Made all of clothes and face; his limbs so set
As if they had some voluntary act
Without a man's motion, and must move just so
In spight of their creation:  one that weighs
His breath between his teeth, and dares not smile
Beyond a point, for fear t'unstarch his look;
Hath travell'd to make legs, and seen the cringe
Of several courts, and courtiers; knows the time
Of giving titles, and of taking walls;
Hath read court common-places; made them his:
Studied the grammar of state, and all the rules
Each formal usher in that politic school
Can teach a man.  A third comes, giving nods
To his repenting creditors, protests
To weeping suitors, takes the coming gold
Of insolent and base ambition,
That hourly rubs his dry and itchy palms;
Which griped, like burning coals, he hurls away
Into the laps of bawds, and buffoons' mouths.
With him there meets some subtle Proteus, one
Can change, and vary with all forms he sees;
Be any thing but honest; serves the time;
Hovers betwixt two factions, and explores
The drifts of both; which, with cross face, he bears
To the divided heads, and is received
With mutual grace of either:  one that dares
Do deeds worthy the hurdle or the wheel,
To be thought somebody; and is in sooth
Such as the satirist points truly forth,
That only to his crimes owes all his worth.

ARE.  You tell us wonders, Crites.

CRI.  This is nothing.
There stands a neophite glazing of his face,
Pruning his clothes, perfuming of his hair,
Against his Idol enters; and repeats,
Like an unperfect prologue, at third music,
His part of speeches, and confederate jests,
In passion to himself.  Another swears
His scene of courtship over; bids, believe him,
Twenty times ere they will; anon, doth seem
As he would kiss away his hand in kindness;
Then walks off melancholic, and stands wreath'd,
As he were pinn'd up to the arras, thus.
A third is most in action, swims, and frisks,
Plays with his mistress's paps, salutes her pumps;
Adores her hems, her skirts, her knots, her curls,
Will spend his patrimony for a garter,
Or the least feather in her bounteous fan.
A fourth, he only comes in for a mute;
Divides the act with a dumb show, and exit.
Then must the ladies laugh, straight comes their scene,
A sixth times worse confusion then the rest.
Where you shall hear one talk of this man's eye,
Another of his lip, a third, his nose,
A fourth commend his leg, a fifth his foot,
A sixth, his hand, and every one a limb;
That you would think the poor distorted gallant
Must there expire.  Then fall they in discourse
Of tires, and fashions, how they must take place,
Where they may kiss, and whom, when to sit down,
And with what grace to rise; if they salute,
What court'sy they must use; such cobweb stuff
As would enforce the common'st sense abhor
Th' Arachnean workers.

ARE.  Patience, gentle Crites.
This knot of spiders will be soon dissolved,
And all their webs swept out of Cynthia's court,
When once her glorious deity appears,
And but presents itself in her full light:
'Till when, go in, and spend your hours with us,
Your honour'd friends. Time, and Phronesis,
In contemplation of our goddess' name.
Think on some sweet and choice invention now,
Worthy her serious and illustrious eyes,
That from the merit of it we may take
Desired occasion to prefer your worth,
And make your service known to Cynthia.
It is the pride of Arete to grace
Her studious lovers; and, in scorn of time,
Envy, and ignorance, to lift their state
Above a vulgar height.  True happiness
Consists not in the multitude of friends,
But in their worth, and choice.  Nor would I have
Virtue a popular regard pursue:
Let them be good that love me, though but few.

CRI.  I kiss thy hands, divinest Arete,
And vow myself to thee, and Cynthia.
[EXEUNT.

SCENE III. -- ANOTHER APARTMENT IN THE SAME.

ENTER AMORPHUS, FOLLOWED BY ASOTUS AND HIS TAILOR.
AMO.  A little more forward:  so, sir.  Now go in, discloak yourself, and
come forth.  Tailor; bestow thy absence upon us; and be not prodigal of
this secret, but to a dear customer.
[EXIT TAILOR.

RE-ENTER ASOTUS.
'Tis well enter'd sir.  Stay, you come on too fast; your pace is too
impetuous.  Imagine this to be the palace of your pleasure, or place where
your lady is pleased to be seen.  First you present yourself, thus:  and
spying her, you fall off, and walk some two turns; in which time, it is to
be supposed, your passion hath sufficiently whited your face, then,
stifling a sigh or two, and closing your lips, with a trembling boldness,
and bold terror, you advance yourself forward.  Prove thus much, I pray you.

ASO.  Yes, sir; --  pray Jove I can light on it!  Here I come in, you say,
and present myself?

AMO.  Good.

ASO/  And then I spy her, and walk off?

AMO.  Very good.

ASO.  Now, sir, I stifle, and advance forward?

AMO.  Trembling.

ASO.  Yes, sir, trembling; I shall do it better when I come to it.  And
what must I speak now?

AMO.  Marry, you shall say; "Dear Beauty", or "sweet Honour" (or by what
other title you please to remember her), "methinks you are melancholy".
This is, if she be alone now, and discompanied.

ASO.  Well, sir, I'll enter again; her title shall be, "My dear Lindabrides".

AMO.  Lindabrides!

ASO.  Ay, sir, the emperor Alicandroe's daughter, and the prince Meridian's
sister, in "the Knight of the Sun"; she should have been married to him,
but that the princess Claridiana --

AMO.  O, you betray your reading.

ASO.  Nay, sir, I have read history, I am a little humanitian.  Interrupt
me not, good sir.  "My dear Lindabrides, -- my dear Lindabrides, -- my dear
Lindabrides, methinks you are melancholy".

AMO.  Ay, and take her by the rosy finger'd hand.

ASO.  Must I so:  O! -- "My dear Lindabrides, methinks you are melancholy".

AMO.  Or thus sir.  "All variety of divine pleasures, choice sports, sweet
music, rich fare, brave attire, soft beds, and silken thoughts, attend this
dear beauty."

ASO.  Believe me, that's pretty.  "All variety of divine pleasures, choice
sports, sweet music, rich fare, brave attire, soft beds, and silken
thoughts, attend this dear beauty."

AMO.  And then, offering to kiss her hand, if she shall coily recoil, and
signify your repulse, you are to re-enforce yourself with,
"More than most fair lady,
Let not the rigour of your just disdain
Thus coarsely censure of your servant's zeal."
And withal, protest her to be the only and absolute unparallel'd creature
you do adore, and admire, and respect, and reverence, in this court, corner
of the world, or kingdom.

ASO.  This is hard, by my faith.  I'll begin it all again.

AMO.  Do so, and I will act it for your lady.

ASO.  Will you vouchsafe, sir?  "All variety of divine pleasures, choice
sports, sweet music, rich fare, brave attire, soft beds, and silken
thoughts, attend this dear beauty."

AMO.  So sir, pray you, away.

ASO.  "More then most fair lady,
Let not the rigour of your just disdain
Thus coarsely censure of your servant's zeal;
I protest you are the only and absolute unapparell'd --

AMO.  Unparallel'd.

ASO.  Unparallel'd creature, I do adore, and admire, and respect, and
reverence, in this corner of the world, or kingdom."

AMO.  This is, if she abide you.  But now, put case she should be passant
when you enter, as thus: you are to frame your gait thereafter, and call
upon her, "lady, nymph, sweet refuge, star of our court.  Then, if she be
guardant, here; you are to come on, and, laterally disposing yourself,
swear by her blushing and well-coloured cheek, the bright dye of her hair,
her ivory teeth, though they be ebony,) or some such white and innocent
oath, to induce you.  If regardant, then, maintain your station, brisk and
irpe, show the supple motion of your pliant body, but in chief of your
knee, and hand, which cannot but arride her proud humour exceedingly.

ASO.  I conceive you sir.  I shall perform all these things in good time, I
doubt not, they do so hit me.

AMO.  Well sir, I am your lady; make use of any of these beginnings, or
some other out of your own invention; and prove how you can hold up, and
follow it. Say, say.

ASO.  Yes sir.  "My dear Lindabrides."

AMO.  No, you affect that Lindabrides too much; and let me tell you it is
not so courtly.  Your pedant should provide you some parcels of French, or
some pretty commodity of Italian, to commence with, if you would be exotic
and exquisite.

ASO.  Yes, sir, he was at my lodging t'other morning, I gave him a doublet.

AMO.  Double your benevolence, and give him the hose too; clothe you his
body, he will help to apparel your mind.  But now, see what your proper
genius can perform alone, without adjection of any other Minerva.

ASO.  I comprehend you sir.

AMO.  I do stand you, sir; fall back to your first place.  Good, passing
well:  very properly pursued.

ASO.  "Beautiful, ambiguous, and sufficient lady, what! are you all alone?"

AMO.  "We would be, sir, if you would leave us."

ASO.  "I am at your beauty's appointment, bright angel; but --"

AMO  "What but?"

ASO.  "No harm, more than most fair feature."

AMO.  That touch relish'd well.

ASO.  "But I protest --"

AMO.  "And why should you protest?"

ASO.  "For good will, dear esteem'd madam, and I hope your ladyship will so
conceive of it:
And will, in time, return from your disdain,
And rue the suff'rance of our friendly pain."

AMO.  O, that piece was excellent!  If you could pick out more of these
play-particles, and, as occasion shall salute you, embroider or damask your
discourse with them, persuade your soul, it would most judiciously commend
you.  Come, this was a well-discharged and auspicious bout.  Prove the
second.

ASO.  "Lady, I cannot ruffle it in red and yellow."

AMO.  "Why if you can revel it in white, sir, 'tis sufficient."

ASO.  "Say you so, sweet lady!  Lan, tede de, de, de, dant, dant, dant,
dante.  [SINGS AND DANCES.]  No, in good faith, madam, whosever told your
ladyship so, abused you; but I would be glad to meet your ladyship in a
measure."

AMO.  "Me sir!  Belike you measure me by yourself, then?"

ASO.  "Would I might, fair feature."

AMO.  "And what were you the better, if you might?"

ASO.  "The better it please you to ask, fair lady."

AMO.  Why, this was ravishing, and most acutely continued.  Well, spend not
your humour too much, you have now competently exercised your conceit:
this, once or twice a day, will render you an accomplish'd, elaborate, and
well-levell'd; gallant.  Convey in your courting-stock, we will in the heat
of this go visit the nymphs' chamber.


----------------------------------------------


ACT IV

SCENE I. -- AN APARTMENT IN THE PALACE.

ENTER PHANTASTE, PHILAUTIA, ARGURION, MORIA, AND CUPID.
PHA.  I would this water would arrive once, our travelling friend so
commended to us.

ARG.  So would I, for he has left all us in travail with expectation of it.

PHA.  Pray Jove, I never rise from this couch, if ever I thirsted more for
a thing in my whole time of being a courtier.

PHI  Nor I, I'll be sworn: the very mention of it sets my lips in a worse
heat, than if he had sprinkled them with mercury.  Reach me the glass,
sirrah.

CUP.  Here, lady.

MOR.  They do not peel, sweet charge, do they?

PHI.  Yes, a little guardian.

MOR.  O, 'tis a eminent good sign.  Ever when my lips do so, I am sure to
have some delicious good drink or other approaching.

ARG.   Marry, and this may be good for us ladies, for it seems 'tis far fet
by their stay.

MOR.  My palate for yours, dear Honour, it shall prove most elegant I
warrant you.  O, I do fancy this gear that's long a coming, with an
unmeasurable strain.

PHA.  Pray thee sit down, Philautia; that rebatu becomes thee singularly.

PHI.  Is it not quaint?

PHA.  Yes faith.  Methinks, thy servant Hedon is nothing so obsequious to
thee, as he was wont to be:  I know not how, he is grown out of his garb
a-late, he's warp'd.

MOR.  In trueness, and so methinks too; he is much converted.

PHI.  Tut; let him be what he will, 'tis an animal I dream not of.  This
tire, methinks, makes me look very Ingeniously, quick, and spirited; I
should be some Laura, or some Delia methinks.

MOR.  As I am wise, fair Honours, that title she gave him, to be her
Ambition, spoil'd him:  before, he was the most propitious, and observant
young novice --

PHA.  No, no, you are the whole heaven awry, guardian; 'tis the swaggering
coach-horse Anaides draws with him there, has been the diverter of him.

PHI.  For Cupid's sake speak no more of him; would I might never dare to
look in a mirror again, if I respect ever a marmoset of 'em all, otherwise,
than I would a feather, or my shuttle-cock, to make sport with now and then.

PHA.  Come sit down: troth, and you be good beauties, let's run over them
all now:  Which is the properest man amongst them?  I say, the traveller,
Amorphus.

PHI.  O, fie on him, he looks like a Venetian trumpeter in the battle of
Lepanto, in the gallery yonder; and speaks to the tune of a country lady,
that comes ever in the rearward or train of a fashion.

MOR.  I should have judgement in a feature, sweet beauties.

PHA.  A body would think so, at these years.

MOR.  And I prefer another now, far before him, a million at least.

PHA.  Who might that be, guardian?

MOR.  Marry, fair charge, Anaides.

PHA.  Anaides! you talk'd of a tune, Philautia; there's one speaks in a
key, like the opening of some justice's gate, or a postboy's horn, as if
his voice feared an arrest for some ill words it should give, and were loth
to come forth.

PHI.  Ay, and he has a very imperfect face.

PHA.  Like a sea-monster, that were to ravish Andromeda from the rock.

PHI.  His hands too great too, by at least a straw's breadth.

PHA.  Nay, he has a worse fault than that too.

PHI.  A long heel?

PHA.  That were a fault in a lady, rather than him:  no, they say he puts
off the calves of his legs, with his stockings, every night.

PHI.  Out upon him!  Turn to another of the pictures, for love's sake.
What says Argurion?  Whom does she commend afore the rest?

CUP.  I hope I have instructed her sufficiently for an answer
[ASIDE.

MOR.  Troth, I made the motion to her ladyship for one to-day, i'the
presence, but it appear'd she was otherways furnished before:  she would
none.

PHA.  Who was that Argurion?

MOR.  Marry, the poor, plain gentleman in the black there.

PHA.  Who, Crites?

ARG.  Ay, ay, he: a fellow that nobody so much as look'd upon, or regarded;
and she would have had me done him particular grace.

PHA.  That was a true trick of yourself, Moria, to persuade Argurion to
affect the scholar.

ARG.  Tut, but she shall be no chooser for me. In good faith, I like the
citizen's son there, Asotus; methinks, none of them all come near him.

PHA.  Not Hedon?

ARG.  Hedon! in troth no.  Hedon's a pretty slight courtier, and he wears
his clothes well, and sometimes in fashion; marry, his face is but
indifferent, and he has no such excellent body.  No, the other is a most
delicate youth; a sweet face, a straight body, a well-proportion'd leg and
foot, a white hand, a tender voice.

PHI.  How now, Argurion!

PHA.  O, you should have let her alone, she was bestowing a copy of him
upon us.  Such a nose were enough to make me love a man, now.

PHI.  And then his several colours he wears; wherein he flourisheth
changeably, every day.

PHA.  O, but his short hair, and his narrow eyes!

PHI.  Why she doats more palpably upon him than ever his father did upon her.

PHA.  Believe me, the young gentleman deserves it.  If she could doat more
it were not amiss.  He is an exceeding proper youth, and would have made a
most neat barber surgeon, if he had been put to it in time.

PHI.  Say you so?  Methinks he looks like a tailor already.

PHA.  Ay, that had sayed on one of his customer's suits.  His face is like
a squeezed orange, or --

ARG.  Well ladies, jest on:  the best of you both would be glad of such a
servant.

MOR.  Ay, I'll be sworn would they, though he be a little shame-faced.

PHA.  Shame-faced, Moria!  out upon him.  Your shame-faced servant is your
only gull.

MOR.  Go to, beauties, make much of time, and place, and occasion, and
opportunity, and favourites, and things that belong to them, for I'll
ensure you they will all relinquish; they cannot endure above another year;
I know it out of future experience; and therefore take exhibition, and
warning: I was once a reveller myself, and though I speak it, as mine own
trumpet, I was then esteem'd --

PHI.  The very march-pane of the court, I warrant you.

PHA.  And all the gallants came about you like flies, did they not?

MOR.  Go to, they did somewhat; that's no matter now.

PHA.  Nay, good Moria, be not angry.  Put case, that we four now had the
grant from Juno, to wish ourselves into what happy estate we could, what
would you wish to be, Moria?

MOR.  Who, I!  let me see now.  I would wish to be a wise woman, and know
all the secrets of court, city, and country.  I would know what were done
behind the arras, what upon the stairs, what in the garden, what in the
nymphs' chamber, what by barge, and what by coach.  I would tell you which
courtier were scabbed and which not; which lady had her own face to lie
with her a-nights and which not; who put off their teeth with their clothes
in court, who their hair, who their complexion; and in which box they put
it.  There should not a nymph, or a widow, be got with child in the verge,
but I would guess, within one or two, who was the right father, and in what
month it was gotten; with what words, and which way.  I would tell you
which madam loved a monsieur, which a player, which a page; who slept with
her husband, who with her friend, who with her gentleman-usher, who with
her horse-keeper, who with her monkey, and who with all; yes, and who
jigg'd the cock too.

PHA.  Fie, you'd tell all, Moria!  If I should wish now, it should be to
have your tongue out.  But what says Philautia?  Who should she be?

PHI.  Troth, the very same I am.  Only I would wish myself a little more
command and sovereignty; that all the court were subject to my absolute
back, and all things in it depending on my look; as if there were no other
heaven but in my smile, nor other hell but in my frown; that I might send
for any man I list, and have his head cut off when I have done with him, or
made an eunuch if he denied me; and if I saw a better face than mine own, I
might have my doctor to poison it.  What would you wish, Phantaste?

PHA.  Faith, I cannot readily tell you what:  but methinks I should wish
myself all manner of creatures.  Now I would be an empress, and by and by a
duchess; then a great lady of state, then one of your miscellany madams,
then a waiting-woman, then your citizen's wife, then a coarse country
gentlewoman, then a dairy-maid, then a shepherd's lass, then an empress
again, or the queen of fairies:  and thus I would prove the vicissitudes
and whirl of pleasures about and again.  As I were a shepherdess, I would
be piped and sung to; as a dairy-wench, I would dance at maypoles, and make
syllabubs; as a country gentlewoman, keep a good house, and come up to term
to see motions; as a citizen's wife, to be troubled with a jealous husband,
and put to my shifts; others' miseries should be my pleasures.  As a
waiting-woman, I would taste my lady's delights to her; as a miscellany
madam, invent new tires, and go visit courtiers; as a great lady, lie
a-bed, and have courtiers visit me; as a duchess, I would keep my state;
and as an empress, I would do any thing.  And, in all these shapes, I would
ever be follow'd with the affections of all that see me.  Marry, I myself
would affect none; or if I did, it should not be heartily, but so as I
might save myself in them still, and take pride in tormenting the poor
wretches.  Or, now I think on't, I would, for one year, wish myself one
woman; but the richest, fairest, and delicatest in a kingdom, the very
centre of wealth and beauty, wherein all lines of love should meet; and in
that person I would prove all manner of suitors, of all humours, and of all
complexions, and never have any two of a sort.  I would see how love, by
the power of his object, could work inwardly alike, in a choleric man and a
sanguine, in a melancholic and a phlegmatic, in a fool and a wise man, in a
clown and a courtier, in a valiant man and a coward; and how he could vary
outward, by letting this gallant express himself in dumb gaze; another with
sighing and rubbing his fingers; a third with play-ends and pitiful verses;
a fourth, with stabbing himself, and drinking healths, or writing
languishing letters in his blood; a fifth, in colour'd ribands and good
clothes; with this lord to smile, and that lord to court, and the t'other
lord to dote, and one lord to hang himself.  And, then, I to have a gook
made of all this, which I would call the "Book of Humours", and every night
read a little piece ere I slept, and laugh at it. -- Here comes Hedon.

ENTER HEDON, ANAIDES, AND MERCURY, WHO RETIRES WITH CUPID TO THE BACK OF
THE STAGE, WHERE THEY CONVERSE TOGETHER.
HED.  Save you sweet and clear beauties!  By the spirit that moves in me,
you are almost pleasingly bestow'd ladies.  Only, I can take it for no good
omen, to find mine Honour so dejected.

PHI.  You need not fear, sir; I did of purpose humble myself against your
coming, to decline the pride of my Ambition.

HED.  Fair Honour, Ambition dares not stoop; but if it be your sweet
pleasure, I shall lose that title, I will, as I am Hedon, apply myself to
your bounties.

PHI.  That were the next way to dis-title myself of honour.  O, no, rather
be still Ambitious, I pray you.

HED.  I will be any thing that you please, whilst it pleaseth you to be
yourself, lady.  Sweet Phantaste, dear Moria, most beautiful Argurion --

ANA.  Farewell, Hedon.

HED.  Anaides, stay, whither go you?

ANA.  'Slight, what should I do here?  an you engross them all for your own
use, 'tis time for me to seek out.

HED.  I engross them!  Away, mischief; this is one of your extravagant
jests now, because I began to salute them by their names

ANA.  Faith, you might have spared us madam Prudence, the guardian there,
though you had more covetously aim'd at the rest.

HED.  'Sheart, take them all, man: what speak you to me of aiming or covetous?

ANA.  Ay, say you so!  nay, then, have at them:  Ladies, here's one hath
distinguish'd you by your names already:  It shall only become me to ask
how you do.

HED.  Ods so, was this the design you travail'd with?

PHA.  Who answers the brazen head?  it spoke to somebody.

ANA.  Lady Wisdom, do you Interpret for these puppets?

MOR.  In truth, and sadness, Honours, you are in great offence for this.
Go to; the gentleman (I'll undertake with him) is a man of fair living, and
able to maintain a lady in her two coaches a day, besides pages, monkeys,
and paraquettoes, with such attendants as she shall think meet for her
turn; and therefore there is more respect requirable, howso'er you seem to
connive.  Hark you, sir, let me discourse a syllable with you.  I am to say
to you, these ladies are not of that close and open behaviour as haply you
may suspend; their carriage is well known to be such as it should be, both
gentle and extraordinary.

MER.  O, here comes the other pair.

ENTER AMORPHUS AND ASOTUS.

AMO.  That was your father's love, the nymph Argurion.  I would have you
direct all your courtship thither; if you could but endear yourself to her
affection, you were eternally engallanted.

ASO.  In truth, sir!  pray Phoebus I prove favoursome in her fair eyes.

AMO.  All divine mixture, and increase of beauty to this bright bevy of
ladies; and to the male courtiers compliment and courtesy.

HED.  In the behalf of the males, I gratify you, Amorphus.

PHA.  And I of the females.

AMO.  Succinctly return'd.  I do vail to both your thanks, and kiss them;
but primarily to yours, most ingenious, acute, and polite lady.

PHI.  Ods my life, how he does all-to-bequalify her! "ingenious, acute",
and "polite" as she.

HED  Yes, but you must know, lady, he cannot speak out of a dictionary method.

PHA.  Sit down, sweet Amorphus.  When will this water come, think you?

AMO.  It cannot now be long, fair lady.

CUP.  Now observe, Mercury.

ASO.  How, most ambiguous beauty!  love you?  that I will by this handkerchief.

MER.  'Slid, he draws his oaths out of his pocket.

ARG  But will you be constant?

ASO.  Constant, madam!  I will not say for constantness; but by this purse,
which I would be loth to swear by, unless it were embroidered, I protest,
more then most fair lady you are the only absolute, and unparallel'd
creature, I do adore, and admire, and respect, and reverence in this court,
corner of the world, or kingdom.  Methinks you are melancholy.

ARG.  Does your heart speak all this?

ASO.  Say you?

MER.  O he is groping for another oath.

ASO.  Now by this Watch -- I marle how forward the day is -- I do
unfeignedly avow myself -- 'slight 'tis deeper than I took it, past five --
yours entirely addicted, madam.

ARG.  I require no more dearest Asotus; henceforth let me call you mine,
and in remembrance of me, vouchsafe to wear this chain and this diamond.

ASO.  O lord, sweet lady!

CUP.  There are new oaths for him.  What! doth Hermes taste no alteration
in all this?

MER.  Yes, thou hast strook Argurion enamour'd on Asotus methinks.

CUP.  Alas, no; I am nobody, I; I can do nothing in this disguise.

MER.  But thou hast not wounded any of the rest, Cupid.

CUP.  Not yet; it is enough that I have begun so prosperously.

ARG.  Nay, these are nothing to the gems I will hourly bestow upon thee; be
but faithful and kind to me, and I will lade thee with my richest bounties:
behold here my bracelets from mine arms.

ASO.  Not so, good lady, by this diamond.

ARG.  Take 'em, wear 'em; my jewels, chain of pearl pendants, all I have.

ASO.  Nay then, by this pearl you make me a wanton.

CUP.  Shall not she answer for this, to maintain him thus in swearing?

MER.  O no, there is a way to wean him from this, the gentleman may be
reclaim'd.

CUP.  Ay, if you had the airing of his apparel, coz, I think.

ASO.  Loving! 'twere pity an I should be living else, believe me.  Save
you, sir, save you, sweet lady, save you, monsieur Anaides, save you, dear
madam.

ANA.  Dost thou know him that saluted thee, Hedon?

HED.  No, some idle Fungoso, that hath got above the cupboard since yesterday.

ANA.  'Slud, I never saw him till this morning, and he salutes me as
familiarly, as if we had known together since the deluge, or the first year
of Troy action..

AMO.  A most right-handed and auspicious encounter.  Confine yourself to
your fortunes.

PHI.  For sport's sake let's have some Riddles or Purposes, ho!

PHA.   No, faith, your Prophecies are best, the t'other are stale.

PHI.  Prophecies!  we cannot all sit in at them; we shall make a confusion.
No; what call'd you that we had in the forenoon?

PHA.  Substantives, and adjectives, is it not, Hedon?

PHI.  Ay that.  Who begins?

PHA.  I have thought; speak your adjectives, sirs.

PHI.  But do not you change then.

PHA.  Not I.  Who says?

MOR.  Odoriferous.

PHI.  Popular.

ARG.  Humble.

ANA.  White-liver'd.

HED.  Barbarous.

AMO.  Pythagorical.

HED.  Yours, signior.

ASO.  What must I do, sir?

AMO.  Give forth your adjective with the rest; as prosperous, good, fair,
sweet, well --

HED.  Anything that hath not been spoken.

ASO.  Yes, sir, well spoken shall be mine.

PHA.  What, have you all done?

ALL.  Ay.

PHA.  Then the substantive is Breeches.  Why 'odoriferous' breeches, guardian?

MOR.  Odoriferous, -- because odoriferous: that which contains most variety
of savour and smell we say is most odoriferous; now breeches, I presume,
are incident to that variety, and therefore odoriferous breeches.

PHA.  Well, we must take it howsoever.  Who's next?  Philautia?

PHI.  Popular.

PHA.  Why 'popular' breeches?

PHA.  Marry, that is, when they are not content to be generally noted in
court, but will press forth on common stages and brokers' stalls, to the
public view of the world.

PHA.  Good.  Why 'humble' breeches, Argurion?

ARG.  Humble!  because they use to be sat upon; besides, if you tie them
not up, their property is to fall down about your heels.

MER.  She has worn the breeches, it seems, which have done so.

PHA.  But why 'white-liver'd?'

ANA.  Why!  are not their linings white?  Besides, when they come in
swaggering company, and will pocket up any thing, may they not properly be
said to be white-liver'd?

PHA.  O yes, we must not deny it.  And why 'barbarous', Hedon?

HED.  Barbarous!  because commonly, when you have worn your breeches
sufficiently, you give them to your barber.

AMO.  That's good; but how 'Pythagorical?'

PHI.  Ay, Amorphus, why Pythagorical breeches?

AMO.  O most kindly of all; 'tis a conceit of that fortune, I am bold to
hug my brain for.

PHA.  How is it, exquisite Amorphus?

AMO.  O, I am rapt with it, 'tis so fit, so proper, so happy --

PHI.  Nay, do not rack us thus.

AMO.  I never truly relish'd myself before.  Give me your ears.  Breeches
Pythagorical, by reason of their transmigration into several shapes.

MOR.  Most rare, in sweet troth.  Marry this young gentleman, for his
well-spoken --

PHA.  Ay, why 'well-spoken' breeches?

ASO.  Well-spoken!  Marry, well-spoken, because --  whatsoever they speak
is well-taken; and whatsoever is well taken is well-spoken.

MOR.  Excellent! believe me.

ASO.  Not so, ladies, neither.

HED.  But why breeches, now?

PHA.  Breeches, 'quasi' bear-riches; when a gallant bears all his riches in
his breeches.

AMO.  Most fortunately etymologised.

PHA.  'Nay, we have another sport afore this, of A thing done, and who did
it, etc.

PHI.  Ay, good Phantaste, let's have that:  distribute the places.

PHA.  Why, I imagine, A thing done; Hedon thinks, who did it; Moria, with
what it was done; Anaides, where it was done; Argurion, when it was done;
Amorphus, for what cause was it done; you, Philautia, what followed upon
the doing of it; and this gentleman, who would have done it better.  What?
is it conceived about?

ALL.  Yes, yes.

PHA.  Then speak you, sir.  "Who would have done it better?"

ASO.  How!  does it begin at me?

PHA.  Yes, sir:  this play is called the Crab, it goes backward.

ASO.  May I not name myself?

PHI.  If you please, sir, and dare abide the venture of it.

ASO.  Then I would have done it better, whatever it is.

PHA.  No doubt on't, sir:  a good confidence.  "What followed upon the
act", Philautia?

PHI.  A few heat drops, and a month's mirth.

PHA.  "For what cause", Amorphus?

AMO.  For the delight of ladies.

PHA.  "When", Argurion?

ARG.  Last progress.

PHA.  "Where", Anaides?

ANA.  Why, in a pair of pain'd slops.

PHA.  "With what", Moria?

MOR.  With a glyster.

PHA.  "Who", Hedon?

HED.  A traveller.

PHA.  Then the thing done was, "An oration was made."  Rehearse.  An
oration was made --

HED.  By a traveller --

MOR.  With a glyster --

ANA.  In a pair of pain'd slops --
ARG.  Last progress
p 191

AMO.  For the delight of ladies --
PHI.  A few heat drops, and a month's mirth followed.

PHA.  And, this silent gentleman would have done it better.

ASO.  This was not so good, now.

PHI.  In good faith, these unhappy pages, would be whipp'd for staying thus.

MOR.  Beshrew my hand and my heart else.

AMO.  I do wonder at their protraction.

ANA.  Pray Venus my whore have not discover'd herself to the rascally boys,
and that be the cause of their stay.

ASO.  I must suit myself with another page: this idle Prosaites will never
be brought to wait well.

MOR.  Sir, I have a kinsman I could willingly wish to your service, if you
would deign to accept of him.

ASO.  And I shall be glad, most sweet lady, to embrace him:  Where is he?

MOR.  I can fetch him, sir, but I would be loth to make you turn away your
other page.

ASO.  You shall not most sufficient lady; I will keep both:  pray you let
us go see him.

ARG.  Whither goes my love?

ASO.  I'll return presently, I go but to see a page with this lady.
[EXEUNT ASOTUS AND MORIA.

ANA.  As sure as fate, 'tis so: she has opened all:  a pox of all
cockatrices!  D--n me, if she have play'd loose with me, I'll cut her
throat within a hair's breadth, so it may be heal'd again.

MER.  What, is he jealous of his hermaphrodite?

CUP.  O, ay, this will be excellent sport.

PHI.  Phantaste, Argurion! what, you are suddenly struck, methinks!  For
love's sake let's have some music till they come:  Ambition reach the lyra,
I pray you.

HED.  Anything to which my Honour shall direct me.

PHI.  Come Amorphus, cheer up Phantaste.

AMO.  It shall be my pride, fair lady, to attempt all that is in my power.
But here is an Instrument that alone is able to infuse soul into the most
melancholic and dull-disposed creature upon earth.  O, let me kiss thy fair
knees.  Beauteous ears attend it.

HED.  Will you have "the Kiss" Honour?

PHI.  Ay, good Ambition.

HEDON SINGS.
O, that joy so soon should waste!
Or so sweet a bliss
As a kiss
Might not for ever last!
So sugar'd, so melting, so soft, so delicious,
The dew that lies on roses,
When the morn herself discloses,
is not so precious.
p 193
O rather than I would it smother,
Were I to taste such another;
It should be my wishing
That I might die with kissing.

HED.  I made this ditty, and the note to it, upon a kiss that my Honour
gave me; how like you it, sir?

AMO.  A pretty air; in general, I like it well:  but in particular, your
long die-Note did arride me most, but it was somewhat too long.  I can show
one almost of the same nature, but much before it, and not so long, in a
composition of mine own.  I think I have both the note and ditty about me.

HED.  Pray you, sir, see.

AMO.  Yes, there is the note; and all the parts, if I misthink not.  I will
read  the ditty to your beauties here; but first I am to make you familiar
with the occasion, which presents itself thus.  Upon a time, going to take
my leave of the emperor, and kiss his great hands, there being then present
the kings of France and Arragon, the dukes of Savoy, Florence, Orleans,
Bourbon, Brunswick, the Landgrave, Count Palatine; all which had severally
feasted me; besides infinite more of inferior persons, as counts and
others: it was my chance (the Emperor detained by some exorbitant affair)
to wait him the fifth part of an hour, or much near it.  In which time,
retiring myself into a bay-window, the beauteous lady Annabel, niece to the
empress, and sister to the king of Arragon, who having never before eyed
me, but only heard the common report of my virtue, learning, and travel,
fell into that extremity of passion, for my love, that she there
immediately swooned: physicians were sent for, she had to her chamber, so
to her bed; where, languishing some few days, after many times calling upon
me, with my name in her lips, she expired.  As that (I must mourningly say)
is the only fault of my fortune, that, as it hath ever been my hap to be
sued to, by all ladies and beauties, where I have come; so, I never yet
sojourn'd, or rested in that place, or part of the world, where some
high-born, admirable, fair feature died not for my love.

MER.  O, the sweet power of travel! -- Are you guilty of this, Cupid?

CUP.  No, Mercury; and that his page Cos knows, if he were here present to
be sworn.

PHI.  But how doth this draw on the ditty, sir?

MER.  O, she is too quick with him; he hath not devised that yet.

AMO.  Marry, some hour before she departed, she bequeath'd to me this
glove:  which golden legacy, the  emperor himself took care to send after
me, in six coaches, cover'd all with black-velvet, attended by the state of
his empire; all which he freely presented me with:  and I reciprocally (out
of the same bounty) gave to the lords that brought it:  only reserving the
gift of the deceased lady, upon which I composed this ode, and set it to my
most affected Instrument the lyra.
p 194

Thou more then most sweet glove,
Unto my more sweet love,
Suffer me to store, with kisses
This empty lodging, that now misses
The pure rosy hand that wear thee,
Whiter then the kid that bare thee:
Thou art soft, but that was softer;
Cupid's self hath kiss'd it ofter
Than ere he did his mother's doves.
Supposing her the queen of loves
That was thy mistress, BEST OF GLOVES.

MER.  Blasphemy, blasphemy, Cupid!

CUP.  I'll revenge it time enough, Hermes.

PHI.  Good Amorphus, let's hear it sung.

AMO.  I care not to admit that, since it pleaseth Philautia to request it.

HED.  Here, sir.

AMO.  Nay, play it, I pray you; you do well, you do well.  [HE SINGS IT.]
-- How like you it, sir?

HED.  Very well, in troth.

AMO.  But very well!  O, you are a mere mammothrept in judgement, then.
Why do not observe how excellently the ditty is affected in every place?
that I do not marry a word of short quantity, to a long note? nor an
ascending syllable to a descending tone?  Besides, upon the word 'best'
there, you see how I do enter with an odd minum, and drive it thorough the
brief; which no intelligent musician, I know, but will affirm to be very
rare, extraordinary, and pleasing.

MER.  And yet not fit to lament the death of a lady, for all this.

CUP.  Tut, here be they will swallow anything.

PHA.  Pray you, let me have a copy of it, Amorphus.

PHI.  And me too; in troth I like it exceedingly.

AMO.  I have denied it to princes; nevertheless to you, the true female
twins of perfection, I am won to depart withal.

HED.  I hope I shall have my Honour's copy.

PHA.  You are Ambitious in that, Hedon.

RE-ENTER ANAIDES.
AMO.  How now, Anaides? what is it hath conjured up this distemperature in
the circle of your face?

ANA.  Why, what have you to do?  A pox upon your filthy travelling face!
hold your tongue.

HED.  Nay, dost hear, Mischief?

ANA.  Away, musk-cat!

AMO.  I say to thee thou art rude, debauch'd, impudent, coarse, unpolish'd,
a frapler, and base.

HED.  Heart of my father, what a strange alteration has half a year's
haunting of ordinaries wrought in this fellow!  that came with
p 195
a tufftaffata jerkin to town but the other day, and a pair of pennyless
hose, and now he is turn'd Hercules, he wants but a club.

ANA.  Sir, you with the pencil on your chin; I will garter my hose with
your guts, and that shall be all.
[EXIT.

MER.  'Slid, what rare fireworks be here? flash, flash.

PHA.  What is the matter Hedon?  can you tell?

HED.  Nothing, but that he lacks crowns, and thinks we'll lend him some to
be friends.

RE-ENTER ASOTUS AND MORIA, WITH MORUS.

ASO.  Come sweet lady, in good truth I'll have it, you shall not deny me.
Morus, persuade your aunt I may have her picture, by any means.

MORUS.  Yea, sir: good aunt now, let him have it; he will use me the
better; if you love me do, good aunt.

MOR.  Well, tell him he shall have it.

MORUS.  Master, you shall have it, she says.

ASO.  Shall I? thank her, good page.

CUP.  What, has he entertained the fool?

MER.  Ay, he'll wait close, you shall see, though the beggar hang off a while.

MORUS.  Aunt, my master thanks you.

MOR.  Call him hither.

MORUS.  Yes; master.

MOR.  Yes, in verity, and gave me this purse, and he has promised me a most
fine dog; which he will have drawn with my picture, he says:  and desires
most vehemently to be known to your ladyships.

PHA.  Call him hither, 'tis good groping such a gull.

MORUS.  Master Asotus, master Asotus!

ASO.  For love's sake, let me go:  you see I am call'd to the ladies.

ARG.  Wilt thou forsake me, then?

ASO.  Od so! what would you have me do?

MOR.  Come hither, master Asotus. -- I do ensure your ladyships, he is a
gentleman of a very worthy desert:  and of a most bountiful nature. -- You
must shew and insinuate yourself responsible, and equivalent now to my
commendment. -- Good honours grace him.

ASO.  I protest, more then most fair ladies, "I do wish all variety of
divine pleasures, choice sports, sweet music, rich fare, brave attire, soft
beds, and silken thoughts, attend these fair beauties".  Will it please
your ladyship to wear this chain of pearl, and this diamond, for my sake?

ARG.  O!

ASO.  And you, madam, this jewel and pendants?

ARG.  O!

PHA.  We know not how to deserve these bounties, out of so slight merit,
Asotus.

PHI.  No, in faith, but there's my glove for a favour.

PHA.  And soon after the revels, I will bestow a garter on you.

ASO.  O lord, ladies!  it is more grace then ever I could have hoped,
p 196
but that it pleaseth your ladyships to extend.  I protest it is enough,
that you but take knowledge of my -- if your ladyships want embroidered
gowns, tires of any fashion, rebatues, jewels, or carcanets, any thing
whatsoever, if you vouchsafe to accept --

CUP.  And for it they will help you to shoe-ties, and devices.

ASO.  I cannot utter myself, dear beauties, but; you can conceive --

ARG.  O!

PHA.  Sir, we will acknowledge your service, doubt not -- henceforth, you
shall be no more Asotus to us, but our goldfinch, and we your cages.

ASO.  O Venus!  madams!  how shall I deserve this?  if I were but made
acquainted with Hedon, now, -- I'll try:  pray you, away.
[TO ARGURION.

MER.  How he prays money to go away from him.

ASO.  Amorphus, a word with you; here's a watch I would bestow upon you,
pray you make me known to that gallant.

AMO.  That I will, sir. -- Monsieur Hedon, I must entreat you to exchange
knowledge with this gentleman.

HED.  'Tis a thing, next to the water, we expect, I thirst after, sir.
Good monsieur Asotus.

ASO.  Good monsieur Hedon, I would be glad to be loved of men of your rank
and spirit, I protest.  Please you to accept this pair of bracelets, sir;
they are not worth the bestowing --

MER.  O Hercules; how the gentleman purchases, this must needs bring
Argurion to a consumption.

HED.  Sir, I shall never stand in the merit of such bounty, I fear.

ASO.  O Venus, sir; your acquaintance shall be sufficient.  And if at any
time you need my bill, or my bond --

ARG.  O!  O!
[SWOONS.

AMO.  Help the lady there!

MOR.  Gods-dear, Argurion!  madam, how do you?

ARG.  Sick.

PHA.  Have her forth, and give her air.

ASO.  I come again straight, ladies.
[EXEUNT ASOTUS, MORUS, AND ARGURION.

MER.  Well, I doubt all the physic he has, will scarce recover her; she's
too far spent.
RE-ENTER ANAIDES WITH GELAIA, PROSAITES, AND COS, WITH THE BOTTLES.

PHI.  O here's the Water come; fetch glasses, page.

GEL.  Heart of my body, here's a coil, indeed, with your jealous humours!
nothing but whore and bitch, and all the villainous swaggering names you
can think on!  'Slid take your bottle, and put it in your guts for me, I'll
see you pox'd ere I follow you any longer.

ANA.  Nay, good punk, sweet rascal; d--n me, if I am jealous now.

GEL.  That's true, indeed, pray let's go.
p 197

MOR.  What's the matter there?

GEL.  'Slight, he has me upon interrogatories, (nay, my mother shall know
how you use me,) where I have been? and why I should stay so long? and how
is't possible? and withal calls meat his pleasure I know not how many
cockatrices, and things.

MOR.  In truth and sadness, these are no good epitaphs Anaides, to bestow
upon any gentlewoman; and I'll ensure you if I had known you would have
dealt thus with my daughter, she should never have fancied you so deeply as
she has done.  Go to.

ANA.  Why do you hear, mother Moria?  Heart!

MOR.  Nay, I pray you, sir do not swear.

ANA.  Swear!  why?  'sblood, I have sworn afore now, I hope.  Both you and
your daughter mistake me.  I have not honour'd Arete, that is held the
worthiest lady in the court, next to Cynthia, with half that observance and
respect, as I have done her in private, howsoever outwardly I have carried
myself careless, and negligent.  Come you are a foolish punk, and know not
when you are well employed.  Kiss me, come on; do it, I say.

MOR.  Nay, indeed I must confess, she is apt to misprision.  But I must
have you leave it, minion.

RE-ENTER ASOTUS.
AMO.  How now, Asotus! how does the lady?

ASO.  Faith, ill.  I have left my page with her, at her lodging.

HED.  O, here's the rarest water that ever was tasted:  fill him some.

PRO.  What!  has my master a new page?

MER.  Yes, a kinsman of the lady Moria's:  you must wait better now, or you
are cashiered, Prosaites.

ANA.  Come, gallants; you must pardon my foolish humour; when I am angry,
that any thing crosses me, I grow impatient straight.  Here, I drink to you.

PHI.  O that we had five or six bottles more of this liquor!

PHA.  Now I commend your judgement, Amorphus: -- [KNOCKING WITHIN.]   Who's
that knocks?  look, page.

MOR.  O, most delicious; a little of this would make Argurion well.

PHA.  O, no, give her no cold, drink by any means.

ANA.  'Sblood, this water is the spirit of wine, I'll be hang'd else.
RE-ENTER COS WITH ARETE.

COS.  Here's the lady Arete, madam.

ARE.  What, at your bever, gallants?

MOR.  Will't please your ladyship to drink? 'tis of the New Fountain water.

ARE.  Not I, Moria, I thank you. --  Gallants, you are for this night free
to your peculiar delights; Cynthia will have no sports:  when she is
pleased to come forth, you shall have knowledge.  In the mean time, I could
wish you did provide for solemn revels, and
p 198
some unlooked for device of wit, to entertain her, against she should
vouchsafe to grace your pastimes with her presence.

AMO.  What say you to a masque?

HED.  Nothing better, if the project were new and rare.

ARE.  Why, I'll send for Crites, and have his advice:  be you ready in your
endeavours:  he shall discharge you of the inventive part.

PHA.  But will not your ladyship stay?

ARE.  Not now, Phantaste.
[EXIT.

PHI.  Let her go, I pray you, good lady Sobriety, I am glad we are rid of her.

PHA.  What a set face the gentlewoman has, as she were still going to a
sacrifice!

PHI.  O, she is the extraction of a dozen of Puritans, for a look.

MOR.  Of all nymphs i' the court, I cannot away with her; 'tis the coarsest
thing!

PHI.  I wonder how Cynthia can affect her so above the rest.  Here be they
are every way as fair as she, and a thought, fairer, I trow.

PHA.  Ay, and as ingenious and conceited as she.

MOR.  Ay, and as politic as she, for all she sets such a forehead on't.

PHI.  Would I were dead, if I would change to be Cynthia.

PHA.  Or I.

MOR.  Or I.

MOR.  And there's her minion, Crites:  why his advice more than Amorphus?
Have I not invention, afore him?  Learning, to better that invention above
him? and infanted with pleasant travel --

ANA.  Death, what talk you of his learning? he understands no more than a
schoolboy; I have put him down myself a thousand times, by this air, and
yet I never talk'd with him but twice in my life:  you never saw his like.
I could never get him to argue with me but once; and then because I could
not construe an author I quoted at first sight, he went away, and laughed
at me.  By Hercules, I scorn him, as I do the sodden nymph that was here
even now; his mistress, Arete: and I love myself for nothing else.

HED.  I wonder the fellow does not hang himself, being thus scorn'd, and
contemn'd of us that are held the most accomplish'd society of gallants.

MER.  By yourselves, none else.

HED.  I protest, if I had no music in me, no courtship; that I were not a
reveller and could dance, or had not those excellent qualities that give a
man life and perfection, but a mere poor scholar as he is, I think I should
make some desperate way with myself; whereas now, -- would I might never
breathe more, if I do know that creature in this kingdom, with whom I would
change.

CUP.  This is excellent!  Well, I must alter this soon.

MER.  Look you do, Cupid.  The bottles have wrought, it seems.

ASO.  O, I am sorry the revels are crost.  I should have tickled it soon.
I did never appear till then.  'Slid, I am the neatliest-made
p 199
gallant i' the company, and have the best presence; and my dancing -- well
I know what our usher said to me the last time I was at the school:  Would
I might have led Philautia in the measures, an it had been the gods' will!
I am most worthy, I am sure.

RE-ENTER MORUS.
MORUS.  Master, I can tell you news; the Lady kissed me yonder, and played
with me, and says she loved you once as well as she does me, but that you
cast her off.

ASO.  Peace, my most esteemed page.

MORUS.  Yes.

ASO.  What luck is this, that our revels are dash'd, now was I beginning to
glister in the very highway of preferment.  An Cynthia had but seen me
dance a strain, or do but one trick, I had been kept in court, I should
never have needed to look towards my friends again.

AMO.  Contain yourself, you were a fortunate young man, if you knew your
own good; which I have now projected, and will presently multiply upon you.
Beauties and valours, your vouchsafed applause to a motion.  The humorous
Cynthia hath, for this night, withdrawn the light of your delight.

PHA.  'Tis true, Amorphus:  what may we do to redeem it?

AMO.  Redeem that we cannot, but to create a new flame is in our power.
Here is a gentleman, my scholar, whom, for some private reasons me
specially moving, I am covetous to gratify with title of master in the
noble and subtile science of courtship:  for which grace, he shall this
night, in court, and in the long gallery, hold his public act, by open
challenge, to all masters of the mystery whatsoever, to play at the four
choice and principal weapons thereof, viz., 'the Bare Accost, the Better
Regard, the Solemn Address,' and 'the Perfect Close'.  What say you?

ALL.  Excellent, excellent, Amorphus.

AMO.  Well, let us then take our time by the forehead:  I will instantly
have bills drawn, and advanced in every angle of the court. -- Sir, betray
not your too much joy. -- Anaides, we must mix this gentleman with you in
acquaintance, monsieur Asotus.

ANA.  I am easily entreated to grace any of your friends, Amorphus.

ASO.  Sir, and his friends shall likewise grace you, sir.  Nay, I begin to
know myself now.

AMO.  O, you must continue your bounties.

ASO.  Must I?  Why, I'll give him this ruby on my finger.  Do you hear sir?
I do heartily wish your acquaintance, and I partly know myself worthy of
it; please you, sir, to accept this poor ruby in a ring, sir.  The poesy is
of my own device, "Let this blush for me", sir.

ANA.  So it must for me too, for I am not asham'd to take it.

MORUS.  Sweet man!  By my troth, master, I love you; will you love me too,
for my aunt's sake?  I'll wait well, you shall see.  I'll
p 200
still here.  Would I might never stir, but you are a fine man in these
clothes; master, shall I have them when you have done with them?

ASO.  As for that, Morus, thou shalt see more hereafter; in the mean time,
by this air, or by this feather, I'll do as much for thee, as any gallant
shall do for his page, whatsoever, in this court, corner of the world, or
kingdom.
[EXEUNT ALL BUT THE PAGES.

MER.  I wonder this gentleman should affect to keep a fool:  methinks he
makes sport enough with himself.

CUP.  Well, Prosaites, 'twere good you did wait closer.

PRO.  Ay, I'll look to it; 'tis time.

COS.  The revels would have been most sumptuous to-night, if they had gone
forward.
[EXIT.

MER.  They must needs, when all the choicest singularities of the court
were up in pantofles; ne'er a one of them but was able to make a whole show
of itself.

ASO.  [WITHIN.]  Sirrah, a torch, a torch!

PRO.  O, what a call is there!  I will have a canzonet made, with nothing
in it but sirrah; and the burthen shall be, I come.
[EXIT.

MER.  How now, Cupid, how do you like this change?

CUP.  Faith, the thread of my device is crack'd, I may go sleep till the
revelling music awake me.

MER.  And then, too, Cupid, without you had prevented the fountain.  Alas,
poor god, that remembers not self-love to be proof against the violence of
his quiver!  Well, I have a plot against these prizers, for which I must
presently find out Crites, and with his assistance pursue it to a high
strain of laughter, or Mercury hath lost of his metal.
[EXEUNT.


----------------------------------------------

ACT V

SCENE I. -- THE SAME.

ENTER MERCURY AND CRITES.
MER.  It is resolved on, Crites, you must do it.

CRI.  The grace divinest Mercury hath done me,
In this vouchsafed discovery of himself,
Binds my observance in the utmost term
Of satisfaction to his godly will:
Though I profess, without the affectation
Of an enforced and form'd austerity,
I could be willing to enjoy no place
With so unequal natures.

MER.  We believe it.
But for our sake, and to inflict just pains
On their prodigious follies, aid us now:
No man is presently made bad with ill.
And good men, like the sea, should still maintain
Their noble taste, in midst of all fresh humours
That flow about them, to corrupt their streams,
Bearing no season, much less salt of goodness.
It is our purpose, Crites, to correct,
And punish, with our laughter, this night's sport,
Which our court-dors so heartily intend:
And by that worthy scorn, to make them know
How far beneath the dignity of man
Their serious and most practised actions are.

CRI.  Ay, but though Mercury can warrant out
His undertakings, and make all things good,
Out of the powers of his divinity,
Th' offence will be return'd with weight on me,
That am a creature so despised and poor;
When the whole court shall take itself abused
By our ironical confederacy.

MER.  You are deceived.  The better race in court,
That have the true nobility call'd virtue,
Will apprehend it, as a grateful right
Done to their separate merit; and approve
The fit rebuke of so ridiculous heads,
Who, with their apish customs and forced garbs,
Would bring the name of courtier in contempt,
Did it not live unblemish'd in some few,
Whom equal Jove hath loved, and Phoebus form'd
Of better metal, and in better mould.

CRI.  Well, since my leader-on is Mercury,
I shall not fear to follow.  If I fail,
My proper virtue shall be my relief,
That follow'd such a cause, and such a chief.
[EXEUNT.


SCENE II. -- ANOTHER ROOM IN THE SAME.

ENTER ASOTUS AND AMORPHUS.
ASO.  No more, if you love me, good master; you are incompatible to live
withal:  send me for the ladies!

AMO.  Nay, but intend me.

ASO.  Fear me not; I warrant you, sir.

AMO.  Render not yourself a refractory on the sudden.  I can allow, well,
you should repute highly, heartily, and to the most, of your own
endowments; it gives you forth to the world the more assured:  but with
reservation of an eye, to be always turn'd dutifully back upon your teacher.

ASO.  Nay, good sir, leave it to me.  Trust me with trussing all the points
of this action, I pray.  'Slid, I hope we shall find wit to perform the
science as well as another.

AMO.  I confess you to be of an apted and docible humour.  Yet there are
certain punctilios, or (as I may more nakedly insinuate them) certain
intrinsecate strokes and wards, to which your activity is not yet amounted,
as your gentle dor in colours.  For supposition, your mistress appears here
in prize, ribanded with green and yellow; now, it is the part of every
obsequious servant, to be sure to have daily about him copy and variety of
colours, to be presently answerable to any hourly or half-hourly change in
his mistress's revolution --

ASO.  I know it, sir.

AMO.  Give leave, I pray you -- which, if your antagonist, or player
against you, shall ignorantly be without, and yourself can produce, you
give him the dor.

ASO.  Ay, ay, sir.

AMO.  Or, if you can possess your opposite, that the green your mistress
wears, is her rejoicing or exultation in his service; the yellow, suspicion
of his truth, from her height of affection:  and that he, greenly
credulous, shall withdraw thus, in private, and from the abundance of his
pocket (to displace her jealous conceit) steal into his hat the colour,
whose blueness doth express trueness, she being not so, nor so affected;
you give him the dor.

ASO.  Do not I know it, sir?

AMO.  Nay, good -- swell not above your understanding.  There is yet a
third dor in colours.

ASO.  I know it too, I know it.

AMO.  Do you know it too?  what is it?  make good your knowledge.

ASO.  Why it is -- no matter for that.

AMO.  Do it, on pain of the dor.

ASO.  Why; what is't, say you?

AMO.  Lo, you have given yourself the dor.  But I will remonstrate to you
the third dor, which is not, as the two former dors, indicative, but
deliberative:  as how?  as thus.  Your rival is, with a dutiful and serious
care, lying in his bed, meditating how to observe his mistress, dispatcheth
his lacquey to the chamber early, to know what her colours are for the day,
with purpose to apply his wear that day accordingly:  you lay wait before,
preoccupy the chamber-maid, corrupt her to return false colours; he follows
the fallacy, comes out accoutred to his believed instructions; your
mistress smiles, and you give him the dor.

ASO.  Why, so I told you, sir, I knew it.

AMO.  Told me!  It is a strange outrecuidance, your humour too much redoundeth.

ASO.  Why, sir, what, do you think you know more?

AMO.  I know that a cook may as soon and properly be said to smell well, as
you to be wise.  I know these are most clear and clean strokes.  But then,
you have your passages and imbrocatas in courtship; as the bitter bob in
wit; the reverse in face or wry-mouth; and these more subtile and secure
offenders.  I will example unto you:  Your opponent makes entry as you are
engaged with your mistress.  You seeing him, close in her ear with this
whisper, "Here comes your baboon, disgrace him"; and withal stepping off,
fall on his bosom, and turning to her, politely, aloud say, Lady, regard
this noble gentleman, a man rarely parted, second to none in this court;
and then, stooping over his shoulder, your hand on his breast, your mouth
on his backside, you give him the reverse stroke, with this sanna, or
stork's-bill, which makes up your wit's bob most bitter.

ASO.  Nay, for heaven's sake, teach me no more.  I know all as well --
'Slid, if I did not, why was I nominated?  why did you choose me?  why did
the ladies prick out me?  I am sure there were other gallants.  But me of
all the rest!  By that light, and, as I am a courtier, would I might never
stir, but 'tis strange.  Would to the lord the ladies would come once!

ENTER MORPHIDES.
MORP.  Signior, the gallants and ladies are at hand.  Are you ready, sir?

AMO.  Instantly.  Go, accomplish your attire:  [EXIT ASOTUS.]  Cousin
Morphides, assist me to make good the door with your officious tyranny.

CITIZEN.  [WITHIN.]  By your leave, my masters there, pray you let's come by.

PAGES.  [WITHIN.]  You by!  why should you come by more than we?

CITIZEN'S WIFE.  [WITHIN.]  Why, sir!  because he is my brother that plays
the prizes.

MORP.  Your brother!

CITIZEN.  [WITHIN.]  Ay, her brother, sir, and we must come in.

TAILOR. [WITHIN.]  Why, what are you?

CITIZEN. [WITHIN.]  I am her husband, sir.

TAILOR. [WITHIN.]  Then thrust forward your head.

AMO.  What tumult is there?

MORP.  Who's there?  bear back there!  Stand from the door!

AMO.  Enter none but the ladies and their hang-byes. --
ENTER PHANTASTE, PHILAUTIA, ARGURION, MORIA, HEDON,
AND ANAIDES, INTRODUCING TWO LADIES.
Welcome beauties, and your kind shadows.

HED.  This country lady, my friend, good signior Amorphus.

ANA.  And my cockatrice here.

AMO.  She is welcome.

THE CITIZEN, AND HIS WIFE, PAGES, ETC., APPEAR AT THE DOOR.
MORP.  Knock those same pages there; and, goodman coxcomb the citizen, who
would you speak withal?

WIFE.  My brother.

AMO.  With whom?  your brother!

MORP.  Who is your brother?

WIFE.  Master Asotus.

AMO.  Master Asotus!  is he your brother?  he is taken up with great
persons; he is not to know you to-night.

RE-ENTER ASOTUS HASTILY.
ASO.  O Jove, master!  an there come e'er a citizen gentlewoman in my name,
let her have entrance, I pray you:  it is my sister.

WIFE.  Brother!

CIT.  [THRUSTING IN.]  Brother, master Asotus!

ASO.  Who's there?

WIFE.  'Tis I, brother.

ASO.  Gods me, there she is!  good master, intrude her.

MORP.  Make place!  bear back there!

ENTER CITIZEN'S WIFE.
AMO.  Knock that simple fellow there.

WIFE.  Nay, good sir, it is my husband.

MORP.  The simpler fellow he. -- Away!  back with your head, sir!
[PUSHES THE CITIZEN BACK.

ASO.  Brother, you must pardon your non-entry:  husbands are not allow'd
here, in truth.  I'll come home soon with my sister:  pray you meet us with
a lantern, brother.  Be merry, sister:  I shall make you laugh anon.
[EXIT.

PHA.  Your prizer is not ready, Amorphus.

AMO.  Apprehend your places; he shall be soon, and at all points.

ANA.   Is there any body come to answer him?  shall we have any sport?

AMO.  Sport of importance; howsoever, give me the gloves.

HED.  Gloves!  why gloves, signior?

PHI.  What's the ceremony?

AMO.  [DISTRIBUTING GLOVES.]  Beside their received fitness, at all prizes,
they are here properly accommodate to the nuptials of my scholar's 'haviour
to the lady Courtship.  Please you apparel your hands.  Madam Phantaste,
madam Philautia, guardian, signior Hedon, signior Anaides, gentlemen all,
ladies.

ALL.  Thanks, good Amorphus.

AMO.  I will now call forth my provost, and present him.
[EXIT.

ANA.  Heart!  why should not we be masters as well as he?

HED.  That's true, and play our masters' prizes as well as the t'other?

MOR.  In sadness, for using your court-weapons, methinks you may.

PHA.  Nay, but why should not we ladies play our prizes, I pray?  I see no
reason but we should take them down at their own weapons.

PHI.  Troth, and so we may, if we handle them well.

WIFE.  Ay, indeed, forsooth, madam, if 'twere in the city, we would think
foul scorn but we would, forsooth.

PHA.  Pray you, what should we call your name?

WIFE.  My name is Downfall.

HED.  Good mistress Downfall!  I am sorry your husband could not get in.

WIFE.  'Tis no matter for him, sir.

ANA.  No, no, she has the more liberty for herself.
[A FLOURISH.

PHA.  Peace, peace!  they come.

RE-ENTER AMORPHUS, INTRODUCING ASOTUS IN A FULL-DRESS SUIT.
AMO.  So, keep up your ruff; the tincture of your neck is not all so pure,
but it will ask it.  Maintain your sprig upright; your cloke on your
half-shoulder falling; so:  I will read your bill, advance it, and present
you. -- Silence!
"Be it known to all that profess courtship, by these presents (from the
white satin reveller, to the cloth of tissue and bodkin) that we,
Ulysses-Polytropus-Amorphus, master of the noble and subtile science of
courtship, do give leave and licence to our provost,
Acolastus-Polypragmon-Asotus, to play his master's prize, against all
masters whatsoever, in this subtile mystery, at these four, the choice and
most cunning weapons of court-compliment, viz. the 'bare accost'; the
'better regard'; the 'solemn address'; and the 'perfect close'.  These are
therefore to give notice to all comers, that he, the said
Acolastus-Polypragmon-Asotus, is here present (by the help of his mercer,
tailor, milliner, sempster, and so forth) at his designed hour, in this
fair gallery, the present day of this present month, to perform and do his
uttermost for the achievement and bearing away of the prizes, which are
these:  viz.  For the Bare Accost, two wall-eyes in a face forced:  for the
Better Regard, a face favourably simpering, with a fan waving:  for the
Solemn Address, two lips wagging, and never a wise word:  for the Perfect
Close, a wring by the hand, with a banquet in a corner.  And Phoebus save
Cynthia!"
Appeareth no man yet, to answer the prizer?  no voice? -- Music, give them
their summons.
[MUSIC.

PHA.  The solemnity of this is excellent.

AMO.  Silence!  Well, I perceive your name is their terror, and keepeth
them back.

ASO.  I'faith, master, let's go; no body comes.  'Victus, victa, victum;
victi, victae, victi --' let's be retrograde.

AMO.  Stay.  That were dispunct to the ladies.  Rather ourself shall be
your encounter.  Take your state up to the wall; and, lady, [LEADING MORIA
TO THE STATE.] may we implore you to stand forth, as first term or bound to
our courtship.

HED.  'Fore heaven, 'twill shew rarely.

AMO.  Sound a charge.
[A CHARGE.

ANA.  A pox on't!  Your vulgar will count this fabulous and impudent now:
by that candle, they'll never conceit it.
[THEY ACT THEIR ACCOST SEVERALLY TO MORIA.

PHA.  Excellent well!  admirable!

PHI.  Peace!

HED.  Most fashionably, believe it.

PHI.  O, he is a well-spoken gentleman.

PHA.  Now the other.

PHI.  Very good.

HED.  For a scholar, Honour.

ANA.  O, 'tis too Dutch.  He reels too much.
[A FLOURISH.

HED.  This weapon is done.

AMO.  No, we have our two bouts at every weapon; expect.

CRI.  [WITHIN.]  Where be these gallants, and their brave prizer here?

MORP.  Who's there?  bear back; keep the door.

ENTER CRITES, INTRODUCING MERCURY FANTASTICALLY DRESSED.
AMO.  What are you, sir?

CRI.  By your license, grand-master. -- Come forward, sir.
[TO MERCURY.

ANA.  Heart!  who let in that rag there amongst us?  Put him out, an
impecunious creature.

HED.  Out with him.

MORP.  Come, sir.

AMO.  You must be retrograde.

CRI.  Soft, sir, I am truchman, and do flourish before this monsieur, or
French-behaved gentleman, here; who is drawn hither by report of your
chartels, advanced in court, to prove his fortune with your prizer, so he
may have fair play shewn him, and the liberty to choose his stickler.

AMO.  Is he a master?

CRI.  That, sir, he has to shew here; and confirmed under the hands of the
most skilful and cunning complimentaries alive:  Please you read, sir.
[GIVES HIM A CERTIFICATE.

AMO.  What shall we do?

ANA.  Death!  disgrace this fellow in the black stuff, whatever you do.

AMO.  Why, but he comes with the stranger.

HED.  That's no matter:  he is our own countryman.

ANA.  Ay, and he is a scholar besides.  You may disgrace him here with
authority.

AMO.  Well, see these first.

ASO.  Now shall I be observed by yon scholar, till I sweat again; I would
to Jove it were over.

CRI.  [TO MERCURY.]  Sir, this is the wight of worth, that dares you to the
encounter.  A gentleman of so pleasing and ridiculous a carriage; as, even
standing, carries meat in the mouth, you see; and, I assure you, although
no bred courtling, yet a most particular man, of goodly havings,
well-fashion'd 'haviour, and of as hardened and excellent a bark as the
most naturally qualified amongst them, inform'd, reform'd, and transform'd,
from his original citycism; by this elixir, or mere magazine of man.  And,
for your spectators, you behold them what they are:  the most choice
particulars in court:  this tells tales well; this provides coaches; this
repeats jests; this presents gifts; this holds up the arras; this takes
down from horse; this protests by this light; this swears by that candle;
this delighteth; this adoreth:  yet all but three men.  Then, for your
ladies, the most proud, witty creature, all things apprehending, nothing
understanding, perpetually laughing, curious maintainers of fools, mercers,
and minstrels, costly to be kept, miserably keeping, all disdaining but
their painter and apothecary, 'twixt whom and them there is this reciprock
commerce, their beauties maintain their painters, and their painters their
beauties.

MER.  Sir, you have plaid the painter yourself, and limn'd them to the
life.  I desire to deserve before them.

AMO.  [RETURNING THE CERTIFICATE.]  This is authentic.  We must resolve to
entertain the monsieur, howsoever we neglect him.

HED.  Come, let's all go together, and salute him.

ANA.  Content, and not look on the other.

AMO.  Well devised; and a most punishing disgrace.

HED.  Oh.

AMO.  Monsieur, we must not so much betray ourselves to discourtship, as to
suffer you to be longer unsaluted:  please you to use the state ordain'd
for the opponent; in which nature, without envy, we receive you.

HED.  And embrace you.

ANA.  And commend us to you, sir.

PHI.  Believe it, he is a man of excellent silence.

PHA.  He keeps all his wit for action.

ANA.  This hath discountenanced our scholaris, most richly.

HED.  Out of all emphasis.  The monsieur sees we regard him not.

AMO.  Hold on; make it known how bitter a thing it is not to be look'd on
in court.

HED.  'Slud, will he call him to him yet!  Does not monsieur perceive our
disgrace?

ANA.  Heart!  he is a fool, I see.  We have done ourselves wrong to grace him.

HED.  'Slight, what an ass was I to embrace him!

CRI.  Illustrious and fearful judges --

HED.  Turn away, turn away.

CRI.  It is the suit of the strange opponent (to whom you ought not to turn
your tails, and whose noses I must follow) that he may have the justice,
before he encounter his respected adversary, to see some light stroke of
his play, commenced with some other.

HED.  Answer not him, but the stranger:  we will not believe him.

AMO.  I will demand him, myself.

CRI.  O dreadful disgrace, if a man were so foolish to feel it.

AMO.  Is it your suit, monsieur, to see some prelude of my scholar?  Now,
sure the monsieur wants language --

HED.  And take upon him to be one of the accomplished!  'Slight, that's a
good jest; would we could take him with that nullity. -- "Non sapete voi
parlar' Italiano?"

ANA.  'Sfoot, the carp has no tongue.

CRI.  Signior, in courtship, you are to bid your abettors forbear, and
satisfy the monsieur's request.

AMO.  Well, I will strike him more silent with admiration, and terrify his
daring hither.  He shall behold my own play with my scholar.  Lady, with
the touch of your white hand, let me reinstate you.  [LEADS MORIA BACK TO
THE STATE.]  Provost, {To ASOTUS.] begin to me at the "Bare Accost".  [A
CHARGE.]  Now, for the honour of my discipline.

HED.  Signior Amorphus, reflect, reflect; what means he by that mouthed wave?

CRI.  He is in some distaste of your fellow disciple.

MER.  Signior, your scholar might have played well still, if he could have
kept his seat longer; I have enough of him, now.  He is a mere piece of
glass, I see through him by this time.

AMO.  You come not to give us the scorn, monsieur?

MER.  Nor to be frighted with a face, signior.  I have seen the lions.  You
must pardon me.  I shall be loth to hazard a reputation with one that has
not a reputation to lose.

AMO.  How!

CRI.  Meaning your pupil, sir.

ANA.  This is that black devil there.

AMO.  You do offer a strange affront, monsieur.

CRI.  Sir, he shall yield you all the honour of a competent adversary, if
you please to undertake him.

MER.  I am prest for the encounter.

AMO.  Me!  challenge me!

ASO.  What, my master, sir!  'Slight, monsieur, meddle with me, do you
hear:  but do not meddle with my master.

MER.  Peace, good squib, go out.

CRI.  And stink, he bids you.

ASO.  Master!

AMO.  Silence!  I do accept him.  Sit you down and observe.  Me!  he never
profest a thing at more charger. -- Prepare yourself sir. -- Challenge me!
I will prosecute what disgrace my hatred can dictate to me.

CRI.  How tender a traveller's spleen is!  Comparison to men that deserve
least, is ever most offensive.

AMO.  You are instructed in our chartel, and know our weapons?

MER.  I appear not without their notice, sir.

ASO.  But must I lose the prizes, master?

AMO.  I will win them for you; be patient. -- Lady, [TO MORIA.] vouchsafe
the tenure of this ensign. -- Who shall be your stickler?
MER.  Behold him.
[POINTS TO CRITES.

AMO.  I would not wish you a weaker. -- Sound, musics. -- I provoke you at
the Bare Accost.
[A CHARGE.

PHA.  Excellent comely!

CRI.  And worthily studied.  This is the exalted foretop.

HED.  O, his leg was too much produced.

ANA.  And his hat was carried scurvily.

PHI.  Peace; let's see the monsieur's Accost:  Rare!

PHA.  Sprightly and short.

ANA.  True, it is the French courteau:  he lacks but to have his nose slit.

HED.  He does hop.  He does bound too much.
[A FLOURISH.

AMO.  The second bout, to conclude this weapon.
[A CHARGE.

PHA.  Good, believe it!

PHI.  An excellent offer!

CRI.  This is called the solemn band-string.

HED.  Foh, that cringe was not put home.

ANA.  He makes a face like a stabb'd Lucrece.

ASO.  Well, he would needs take it upon him, but would I had done it for
all this.  He makes me sit still here, like a baboon as I am.

CRI.  Making villainous faces.

PHI.  See, the French prepares it richly.

CRI.  Ay, this is yelped the Serious Trifle.

ANA.  'Slud, 'tis the horse-start out o' the brown study.

CRI.  Rather the bird-eyed stroke, sir.  Your observance is too blunt, sir.
[A FLOURISH.

AMO.  Judges, award the prize.  Take breath, sir.  This bout hath been
laborious.

ASO.  And yet your critic, or your besongno, will think these things
foppery, and easy, now!

CRI.  Or rather mere lunacy.  For would any reasonable creature make these
his serious studies and perfections, much less, only live to these ends?
to be the false pleasure of a few, the true love of none, and the just
laughter of all?

HED.  We must prefer the monsieur, we courtiers must be partial.

ANA.  Speak, guardian.  Name the prize, at the Bare Accost.

MOR.  A pair of wall-eyes in a face forced.

ANA.  Give the monsieur.  Amorphus hath lost his eyes.

AMO.  I!  Is the palate of your judgment down?  Gentles, I do appeal.

ASO.  Yes, master, to me:  the judges be fools.

ANA.  How now, sir!  tie up your tongue, mungrel.  He cannot appeal.

ASO.  Say, you sir?

ANA.  Sit you still, sir.

ASO.  Why, so I do; do not I, I pray you?

MER.  Remercie, madame, and these honourable censors.

AMO.  Well, to the second weapon, the "Better Regard".  I will encounter
you better.  Attempt.

HED.  Sweet Honour.

PHI.  What says my good Ambition?

HED.  Which take you at this next weapon?  I lay a Discretion with you on
Amorphus's head.

PHI.  Why, I take the French-behaved gentleman.

HED.  'Tis done, a Discretion.

CRI.  A Discretion!  A pretty court-wager!  Would any discreet person
hazard his wit so?

PHA.  I'll lay a Discretion with you, Anaides.

ANA.  Hang 'em, I'll not venture a doit of Discretion on either of their heads.

CRI.  No, he should venture all then.

ANA.  I like none of their plays.
[A CHARGE.

HED.  See, see!  this is strange play!

ANA.  'Tis too full of uncertain motion.  He hobbles too much.

CRI.  'Tis call'd your court-staggers, sir.

HED.  That same fellow talks so now he has a place!

ANA.  Hang him!  neglect him.

MER.  Your good ladyship's affectioned.

WIFE.  Ods so!  they speak at this weapon, brother.

ASO.  They must do so, sister; how should it be the Better Regard, else?

PHA.  Methinks he did not this respectively enough.

PHI.  Why, the monsieur but dallies with him.

HED.  Dallies!  'Slight, see!  he'll put him to't in earnest. -- Well done,
Amorphus!

ANA.  That puff was good indeed.

CRI.  Ods me!  this is desperate play:  he hits himself o' the shins.

HED.  An he make this good through, he carries it, I warrant him.

CRI.  Indeed he displays his feet rarely.

HED.  See, see!  he does the respective leer damnably well.

AMO.  The true idolater of your beauties shall never pass their deities
unadored:  I rest your poor knight.

HED.  See, now the oblique leer, or the Janus:  he satisfies all with that
aspect most nobly.
[A FLOURISH.

Cri.  And most terribly he comes off; like your rodomontado.

PHA.  How like you this play, Anaides?

ANA.  Good play; but 'tis too rough and boisterous.

AMO.  I will second it with a stroke easier, wherein I will prove his language.
[A CHARGE.

ANA.  This is filthy, and grave, now.

HED.  O, 'tis cool and wary play.  We must not disgrace our own camerade
too much.

AMO.  "Signora, ho tanto obligo per le favore resciuto da lei; che
veramente desidero con tutto il core, a remunerarla in parte:  e
sicurative, signora mea cara, che io sera sempre pronto a servirla, e
honorarla.  Bascio le mane de vo' signoria."

CRI.  The Venetian dop this.

PHA.  Most unexpectedly excellent!  The French goes down certain.

ASO.  As buckets are put down into a well;
Or as a school-boy --

CRI.  Truss up your simile, jack-daw, and observe.

HED.  Now the monsieur is moved.

ANA.  Bo-peep!

HED.  O, most antick.

CRI.  The French quirk, this sir.

ANA.  Heart, he will over-run her.

MER.  "Madamoyselle, Je voudroy que pouvoy monstrer mon affection, mais je
suis tant malhereuse, ci froid, ci layd, ci --  Je ne scay qui de dire --
excuse moi, Je suis tout votre."
[A FLOURISH.

PHI.  O brave and spirited!  he's a right Jovialist.

PHA.  No, no:  Amorphus's gravity outweighs it.

CRI.  And yet your lady, or your feather, would outweigh both.

ANA.  What's the prize, lady, at this Better Regard?

MOR.  A face favourably simpering, and a waving.

ANA.  They have done doubtfully.  Divide.  Give the favourable face to the
signior, and the light wave to the monsieur.

AMO.  You become the simper well, lady.

MER.  And the wag better.

AMO.  Now, to our 'Solemn Address'.  Please the well-graced Philautia to
relieve the lady sentinel; she hath stood long.

PHI.  With all my heart; come, guardian, resign your place.
[MORIA COMES FROM THE STATE.

AMO.  Monsieur, furnish yourself with what solemnity of ornament you think
fit for this third weapon; at which you are to shew all the cunning of
stroke your devotion can possibly devise.

MER.  Let me alone, sir.  I'll sufficiently decipher your amorous
solemnities. -- Crites, have patience.  See, if I hit not all their practic
observance, with which they lime twigs to catch their fantastic lady-birds.

CRI.  Ay, but you should do more charitably to do it more openly, that they
might discover themselves mock'd in these monstrous affections.
[A CHARGE.

MER.  Lackey, where's the tailor?

ENTER TAILOR, BARBER, PERFUMER, MILLINER, JEWELLER, AND FEATHER-MAKER.
TAI.  Here, sir.

HED.  See, they have their tailor, barber, perfumer, milliner, jeweller,
feather-maker, all in common!
[THEY MAKE THEMSELVES READY ON THE STAGE.

ANA.  Ay, this is pretty.

AMO.  Here is a hair too much, take it off.  Where are thy mullets?

MER.  Is this pink of equal proportion to this cut, standing off this
distance from it?

TAI.  That it is, sir.

MER.  Is it so, sir?  You impudent poltroon, you slave, you list, you
shreds, you --
[BEATS THE TAILOR.

HED.  Excellent!  This was the best yet.

ANA.  Why, we must use our tailors thus:  this is our true magnanimity.

MER.  Come, go to, put on; we must bear with you for the times' sake.

AMO.  Is the perfume rich in this jerkin?

p 211
PER.  Taste, smell; I assure you, sir, pure benjamin, the only spirited
scent that ever awaked a Neapolitan nostril.  You would wish yourself all
nose for the love on't.  I frotted a jerkin for a new-revenued gentleman
yielded me three-score crowns but this morning, and the same titillation.

AMO.  I savour no sampsuchine in it.

PER.  I am a Nulli-fidian, if there be not three-thirds of a scruple more
of sampsuchinum in this confection, than ever I put in any.  I'll tell you
all the ingredients, sir.

AMO.  You shall be simple to discover your simples.

PER.  Simple!  why, sir?  What reck I to whom I discover?  I have it in
musk, civet, amber, Phoenicobalanus, the decoction of turmerick, sesana,
nard, spikenard, calamus odoratus, stacte, opobalsamum, amomum, storax,
ladanum, aspalathum, opoponax, oenanthe.  And what of all these now?  what
are you the better?  Tut, it is the sorting, and the dividing, and the
mixing, and the tempering, and the searching, and the decocting, that makes
the fumigation and the suffumigation.

AMO.  Well, indue me with it.

PER.  I will, sir.

HED.  An excellent confection.

CRI.  And most worthy a true voluptuary, Jove!  what a coil these
musk-worms take to purchase another's delight?  for themselves, who bear
the odours, have ever the least sense of them.  Yet I do like better the
prodigality of jewels and clothes, whereof one passeth to a man's heirs;
the other at least wears out time.  This presently expires, and, without
continual riot in reparation, is lost:  which whoso strives to keep, it is
one special argument to me, that, affecting to smell better than other men,
he doth indeed smell far worse.

MER.  I know you will say, it sits well, sir.

TAI.  Good faith, if it do not, sir, let your mistress be judge.

MER.  By heaven, if my mistress do not like it, I'll make no more
conscience to undo thee, than to undo an oyster.

TAI.  Believe it, there's ne'er a mistress in the world can mislike it.

MER.  No, not goodwife tailor, your mistress; that has only the judgment to
heat your pressing-tool.  But for a court-mistress that studies these
decorums, and knows the proportion of every cut to a hair, knows why such a
colour is cut upon such a colour, and when a satin is cut upon six
taffataes, will look that we should dive into the depth of the cut -- Give
me my scarf.  Shew some ribands, sirrah.  Have you the feather?

FEAT.  Ay, sir.

MER.  Have you the jewel?

JEW.  Yes, sir.

MER.  What must I give for the hire on't?

JEW.  You shall give me six crowns, sir.

MER.  Six crowns!  By heaven, 'twere a good deed to borrow it of thee to
shew, and never let thee have it again.

JEW.  I hope your worship will not do so, sir.

p 213
MER.  By Jove, sir, there be such tricks stirring, I can tell you, and
worthily too.  Extorting knaves, that live by these court-decorums, and yet
-- What's your jewel worth, I pray?

JEW.  A hundred crowns, sir.

MER.  A hundred crowns, and six for the loan on't an hour!  what's that in
the hundred for the year?  These impostors would not be hang'd!  Your thief
is not comparable to them, by Hercules.  Well, put it in, and the feather;
you will have it and you shall, and the pox give you good on't!

AMO.  Give me my confects, my moscadini, and place those colours in my hat.

MER.  These are Bolognian ribands, I warrant you.

MIL.  In truth, sir, if they be not right Granado silk --

MER.  A pox on you, you'll all say so.

MIL.  You give me not a penny, sir.

MER.  Come, sir, perfume my devant;
"May it ascend, like solemn sacrifice,
Into the nostrils of the Queen of Love!"

HED.  Your French ceremonies are the best.

ANA.  Monsieur, signior, your Solemn Address is too long; the ladies long
to have you come on.

AMO.  Soft, sir, our coming on is not so easily prepared.  Signior Fig!

PER.  Ay, sir.

AMO.  Can you help my complexion, here?

PER.  O yes, sir, I have an excellent mineral fucus for the purpose.  The
gloves are right, sir; you shall bury them in a muck-hill, a draught, seven
years, and take them out and wash them, they shall still retain their first
scent, true Spanish.  There's ambre in the umbre.

MER.  Your price, sweet Fig?

PER.  Give me what you will, sir; the signior pays me two crowns a pair;
you shall give me your love, sir.

MER.  My love!  with a pox to you, goodman Sassafras.

PER.  I come, sir.  There's an excellent diapasm in a chain, too, if you
like it.

AMO.  Stay, what are the ingredients to your fucus?

PER.  Nought but sublimate and crude mercury, sir, well prepared and
dulcified, and the jaw-bones of a sow, burnt, beaten, and searced.

AMO.  I approve it.  Lay it on.

MER.  I'll have your chain of pomander, sirrah; what's your price?

PER.  We'll agree, monsieur; I'll assure you it was both decocted and dried
where no sun came, and kept in an onyx ever since it was balled.

MER.  Come, invert my mustachio, and we have done.

AMO.  'Tis good.

BAR.  Hold still, I pray you, sir.

p 214
PER.  Nay, the fucus is exorbitant, sir.

MER.  Death, dost thou burn me, harlot!

BAR.  I beseech you, sir.

MER.  Beggar, varlet, poltroon.
[BEATS HIM.

HED.  Excellent, excellent!

ANA.  Your French beat is the most natural beat of the world.

ASO.  O that I had played at this weapon.
[A CHARGE.

PHA.  Peace, now they come on; the second part.

AMO.  "Madam, your beauties being so attractive, I muse you are left thus
alone."

PHI.  "Better be alone, sir, than ill accompanied."

AMO.  "Nought can be ill, lady, that can come near your goodness."

MER.  "Sweet madam, on what part of you soever a man casts his eye, he
meets with perfection; you are the lively image of Venus throughout; all
the graces smile in your cheeks; your beauty nourishes as well as delights;
you have a tongue steeped in honey, and a breath like a panther; your
breasts and forehead are whiter than goats' milk, or May blossoms; a cloud
is not so soft as your skin --"

HED.  Well strook, monsieur!  He charges like a Frenchman indeed, thick and
hotly.

MER.  "Your cheeks are Cupid's baths, wherein he uses to steep himself in
milk and nectar:  he does light all his torches at your eyes, and instructs
you how to shoot and wound with their beams.  Yet I love nothing in you
more than your innocence; you retain so native a simplicity, so unblamed a
behaviour!  Methinks, with such a love, I should find no head, nor foot of
my pleasure:  you are the very spirit of a lady."

ANA.  Fair play, monsieur, you are too hot on the quarry; give your
competitor audience.

AMO.  "Lady, how stirring soever the monsieur's tongue is, he will lie by
your side more dull than your eunuch."

ANA.  A good stroke; that mouth was excellently put over.

AMO.  "You are fair, lady --"

CRI.  You offer foul, signior, to close; keep your distance; for all your
bravo rampant here.

AMO.  "I say you are fair, lady, let your choice be fit, as you are fair."

MER.  I say ladies do never believe they are fair, till some fool begins to
doat upon them."

PHI.  You play too rough, gentlemen.

AMO.  "Your frenchified fool is your only fool, lady:  I do yield to this
honourable monsieur in all civil and humane courtesy."
[A FLOURISH.

MER.  Buz!

ANA.  Admirable.  Give him the prize, give him the prize:  that mouth again
was most courtly hit, and rare.

AMO.  I knew I should pass upon him with the bitter bob.

HED.  O, but the reverse was singular.

PHA.  It was most subtile, Amorphus.

ASO.  If I had done't, it should have been better.

p 215
MER.  How heartily they applaud this, Crites!

CRI.  You suffer them too long.

MER.  I'll take off their edge instantly.

ANA.  Name the prize, at the 'Solemn Address'.

PHI.  Two lips wagging.

CRI.  And never a wise word, I take it.

ANA.  Give to Amorphus.  And, upon him again; let him not draw free breath.

AMO.  Thanks, fair deliverer, and my honourable judges.  Madam Phantaste,
you are our worthy object at this next weapon.

PHA.  Most covetingly ready, Amorphus.
[SHE TAKES THE STATE INSTEAD OF PHILAUTIA.

HED.  Your monsieur is crest-fallen.

ANA.  So are most of them once a year.

AMO.  You will see, I shall now give him the gentle Dor presently, he
forgetting to shift the colours, which are now changed with alteration of
the mistress.  At your last weapon, sir.  'The Perfect Close.'  Set
forward.  [A CHARGE.]  Intend your approach, monsieur.

MER.  'Tis yours, signior.

AMO.  With your example, sir.

MER.  Not I, sir.

AMO.  It is your right.

MER.  By no possible means.

AMO.  You have the way.

MER.  As I am noble --

AMO.  As I am virtuous --

MER.  Pardon me, sir.

AMO.  I will die first.

MER.  You are a tyrant in courtesy.

AMO.  He is removed. -- [STAYS MERCURY ON HIS MOVING.] -- Judges, bear witness.

MER.  What of that, sir?

AMO.  You are removed, sir.

MER.  Well.

AMO.  I challenge you; you have received the Dor.  Give me the prize.

MER.  Soft, sir.  How, the Dor?

AMO.  The common mistress, you see, is changed.

MER.  Right, sir.

AMO.  And you have still in your hat the former colours.

MER.  You lie, sir, I have none:  I have pulled them out.  I meant to play
discoloured.
[A FLOURISH.

CRI.  The Dor, the Dor, the Dor, the Dor, the Dor, the palpable Dor!

ANA.  Heart of my blood, Amorphus, what have you done?  stuck a disgrace
upon us all, and at your last weapon!

ASO.  I could have done no more.

HED.  By heaven, it was most unfortunate luck.

ANA.  Luck!  by that candle, it was mere rashness, and oversight;
p 216
would any man have ventured to play so open, and forsake his ward?  D--n
me, if he have not eternally undone himself in court, and discountenanced
us that were his main countenance, by it.

AMO.  Forgive it now:  it was the solecism of my stars.

CRI.  The wring by the hand, and the banquet, is ours.

MER.  O, here's a lady feels like a wench of the first year; you would
think her hand did melt in your touch; and the bones of her fingers ran out
at length when you prest 'em, they are so gently delicate!  He that had the
grace to print a kiss on these lips, should taste wine and rose-leaves.  O,
she kisses as close as a cockle.  Let's take them down, as deep as our
hearts, wench, till our very souls mix.  Adieu, signior:  good faith I
shall drink to you at supper, sir.

ANA.  Stay, monsieur.  Who awards you the prize?

CRI.  Why, his proper merit, sir; you see he has played down your grand
garb-master, here.

ANA.  That's not in your logic to determine, sir:  you are no courtier.
This is none of your seven or nine beggarly sciences, but a certain mystery
above them, wherein we that have skill must pronounce, and not such fresh
men as you are.

CRI.  Indeed, I must declare myself to you no profest courtling; nor to
have any excellent stroke at your subtile weapons; yet if you please, I
dare venture a hit with you, or your fellow, sir Dagonet, here.

ANA.  With me!

CRI.  Yes, sir.

ANA.  Heart, I shall never have such a fortune to save myself in a fellow
again, and your two reputations, gentlemen, as in this.  I'll undertake him.

HED.  Do, and swinge him soundly, good Anaides.

ANA.  Let me alone; I'll play other manner of play, than has been seen yet.
I would the prize lay on't.

MER.  It shall if you will, I forgive my right.

ANA.  Are you so confident!  what's your weapon?

CRI.  At any, I, sir.

MER.  The Perfect Close, that's now the best.

ANA.  Content, I'll pay your scholarity.  Who offers?

CRI.  Marry, that will I:  I dare give you that advantage too.

ANA.  You dare!  well, look to your liberal sconce.

AMO.  Make your play still, upon the answer, sir.

ANA.  Hold your peace, you are a hobby-horse.

ASO.  Sir by me, master.

MER.  Now, Crites, strike home.
[A CHARGE.

CRI.  You shall see me undo the assured swaggerer with a trick, instantly:
I will play all his own play before him; court the wench in his garb, in
his phrase, with his face; leave him not so much as a look, an eye, a
stalk, or an imperfect oath, to express himself by, after me.
[ASIDE TO MERCURY.

p 217
MER.  Excellent, Crites.

ANA.  When begin you, sir?  have you consulted?

CRI.  To your cost, sir.  Which is the piece stands forth to be courted?
O, are you she?  [TO PHILAUTIA.]  "Well, madam, or sweet lady, it is so, I
do love you in some sort, do you conceive?  and though I am no monsieur,
nor no signior, and do want, as they say, logic and sophistry, and good
words, to tell you why it is so; yet by this hand and by that candle it is
so:  and though I be no book-worm, nor one that deals by art, to give you
rhetoric and causes, why it should be so, or make it good it is so?  yet,
d--n me, but I know it is so, and am assured it is so, and I and my sword
shall make it appear it is so, and give you reason sufficient how it can be
no otherwise but so --"

HED.  'Slight, Anaides, you are mocked, and so we are all.

MER.  How now, signior!  what, suffer yourself to be cozened of your
courtship before your face?

HED.  This is plain confederacy to disgrace us:  let's be gone, and plot
some revenge.

AMO.  "When men disgraces share,
The lesser is the care."

CRI.  Nay, stay, my dear Ambition,  [TO HEDON.]  I can do you over too.
You that tell your mistress, her beauty is all composed of theft; her hair
stole from Apollo's goldy-locks; her white and red, lilies and roses stolen
out of paradise; her eyes two stars, pluck'd from the sky; her nose the
gnomon of Love's dial, that tells you how the clock of your heart goes:
and for her other parts, as you cannot reckon them, they are so many; so
you cannot recount them, they are so manifest.  Yours, if his own,
unfortunate Hoyden, instead of Hedon.
[A FLOURISH.

AMO.  Sister, come away, I cannot endure them longer.
[EXEUNT ALL BUT MERCURY AND CRITES.

MER.  Go, Dors, and you, my madam Courting-stocks,
Follow your scorned and derided mates;
Tell to your guilty breasts, what mere gilt blocks
You are, and how unworthy human states.

CRI.  Now, sacred God of Wit, if you can make
Those, whom our sports tax in these apish graces,
Kiss, like the fighting snakes, your peaceful rod,
These times shall canonise you for a god.

MER.  Why, Crites, think you any noble spirit,
Or any, worth the title of a man,
Will be incensed to see the enchanted veils
Of self-conceit, and servile flattery,
Wrapt in so many folds by time and custom,
Drawn from his wronged and bewitched eyes?
Who sees not now their shape and nakedness,
Is blinder than the son of earth, the mole;
Crown'd with no more humanity, nor soul.

CRI.  Though they may see it, yet the huge estate
Fancy, and form, and sensual pride have gotten,
p 218
Will make them blush for anger, not for shame,
And turn shewn nakedness to impudence.
Humour is now the test we try things in:
All power is just:  nought that delights is sin.
And yet the zeal of every knowing man
Opprest with hills of tyranny, cast on virtue
By the light fancies of fools, thus transported.
Cannot but vent the Aetna of his fires,
T'inflame best bosoms with much worthier love
Than of these outward and effeminate shades;
That these vain joys, in which their wills consume
Such powers of wit and soul as are of force
To raise their beings to eternity,
May be converted on works fitting men:
And, for the practice of a forced look,
An antic gesture, or a fustian phrase,
Study the native frame of a true heart,
An inward comeliness of bounty, knowledge,
And spirit that may conform them actually
To God's high figures, which they have in power;
Which to neglect for a self-loving neatness,
Is sacrilege of an unpardon'd greatness.

MER.  Then let the truth of these things strengthen thee,
In thy exempt and only man-like course;
Like it the more, the less it is respected:
Though men fail, virtue is by gods protected. --
See, here comes Arete; I'll withdraw myself.
[EXIT.

ENTER ARETE.
ARE.  Crites, you must provide straight for a masque,
'Tis Cynthia's pleasure.

CRI.  How, bright Arete!
Why, 'twere a labour more for Hercules:
Better and sooner durst I undertake
To make the different seasons of the year,
The winds, or elements, to sympathise,
Than their unmeasurable vanity
Dance truly in a measure.  They agree!
What though all concord's born of contraries;
So many follies will confusion prove,
And like a sort of jarring Instruments,
All out of tune; because, indeed, we see
There is not that analogy 'twixt discords,
As between things but merely opposite.

ARE.  There is your error;: for as Hermes' wand
Charms the disorders of tumultuous ghosts;
And as the strife of chaos then did cease,
When better light than Nature's did arrive:
So, what could never in itself agree,
p 219
Forgetteth the eccentric property,
And at her sight turns forth with regular,
Whose sceptre guides the flowing ocean:
And though it did not, yet the most of them
Being either courtiers, or not wholly rude,
Respect of majesty, the place, and presence,
Will keep them within ring; especially
When they are not presented as themselves,
But masqued like others: for, in troth, not so
To incorporate them, could be nothing else,
Than like a state ungovern'd, without laws;
Or body made of nothing but diseases:
The one, through impotency poor, and wretched;
The other, for the anarchy absurd.

CRI.  But, lady, for the revellers themselves,
It would be better, in my poor conceit,
That others were employ'd; for such as are
Unfit to be in Cynthia's court, can seem
No less unfit to be in Cynthia's sports.

ARE.  That, Crites, is not purposed without
Particular knowledge of the goddess' mind;
Who holding true intelligence, what follies
Had crept into her palace, she resolved
Of sports, and triumphs; under that pretext,
To have them muster in their pomp and fulness,
That so she might more strictly, and to root,
Effect the reformation she intends.

CRI.  I now conceive her heavenly drift in all;
And will apply my spirits to serve her will.
O thou, the very power by which I am,
And but for which it were in vain to be,
Chief next Diana, virgin heavenly fair,
Admired Arete, of them admired
Whose souls are not enkindled by the sense,
Disdain not my chaste fire, but feed the flame
Devoted truly to thy gracious name.

ARE.  Leave to suspect us: Crites well shall find,
As we are now most dear, we will prove most kind.

[WITHIN.]  Arete!

ARE.  Hark, I am call'd.
[EXIT.

CRI.  I follow instantly.
Phoebus Apollo, if with ancient rites,
And due devotions, I have ever hung
Elaborate Paeans on thy golden shrine,
Or sung thy triumphs in a lofty strain,
Fit for a theatre of gods to hear:
And thou, the other son of mighty Jove,
Cyllenian Mercury, sweet Maia's joy,
If in the busy tumults of the mind
p 220
My path thou ever hast illumined,
For which thine altars I have oft perfumed,
And deck'd thy statues with discoulor'd flowers:
Now thrive Invention in this glorious court,
That not of bounty only, but of right,
Cynthia may grace, and give it life by sight.
[EXIT.


SCENE III.

ENTER HESPERUS, CYNTHIA, ARETE, TIME, PHRONESIS, AND THAUMA.

MUSIC ACCOMPANIED.  HESPERUS SINGS.
Queen and huntress, chaste, and fair,
Now the sun is laid to sleep,
Seated in thy silver chair,
State in wonted manner keep:
Hesperus, entreats thy light,
Goddess, excellently bright.
Earth, let not thy envious shade
Dare itself to interpose;
Cynthia's shining orb was made
Heav'n to clear, when day did close:
Bless us then with wished sight,
Goddess excellently bright.
Lay thy bow of pearl apart,
And thy crystal shining quiver;
Give unto the flying hart
Space to breathe, how short soever:
Thou, that mak'st a day of night,
Goddess excellently bright.

CYN.  When hath Diana, like an envious wretch,
That glitters only to his soothed self,
Denying to the world the precious use
Of hoarded wealth, withheld her friendly aid?
Monthly we spend our still-repaired shine,
And not forbid our virgin-waxen torch
To burn and blaze, while nutriment doth last:
That once consumed, out of Jove's treasury
A new we take, and stick it in our sphere,
To give the mutinous kind of wanting men
Their look'd-for light.  Yet what is their desert?
Bounty is wrong'd, interpreted as due;
Mortals can challenge not a ray but right,
Yet do expect the whole of Cynthia's light.
But if that deities withdrew their gifts
For human follies, what should men deserve
But death and darkness?  It behoves the high,
p 221
For their own sakes, to do things worthily.

ARE.  Most true, most sacred goddess; for the heavens
Receive no good of all the good they do:
Nor Jove, nor you, nor other heavenly powers,
Are fed with fumes, which do from incense rise,
Or sacrifices reeking in their gore;
Yet, for the care which you of mortals have,
(Whose proper good it is that they be so;)
You well are pleased with odours redolent:
But ignorant is all the race of men,
Which still complains, not knowing why, or when.

CYN.  Else, noble Arete, they would not blame,
And tax, or for unjust, or for as proud,
Thy Cynthia, in the things which are indeed
The greatest glories in our starry crown;
Such is our chastity, which safely scorns,
Not love, for who more fervently doth love
Immortal honour, and divine renown?
But giddy Cupid, Venus' frantic son.
Yet, Arete, if by this veiled light
We but discover'd (what we not discern)
Any the least of imputations stand
Ready to sprinkle our unspotted fame
With note of lightness, from these revels near:
Not, for the empire of the universe,
Should night or court, this whatsoever shine,
Or grace of ours, unhappily enjoy.
Place and occasion are two privy thieves;
And from poor innocent ladies often steal
The best of things, an honourable name;
To stay with follies, or where faults may be,
Infers a crime, although the party free.

ARE.  How Cynthianly, that is, how worthily
And like herself, the matchless Cynthia speaks!
Infinite jealousies, infinite regards,
Do watch about the true virginity:
But Phoebe lives from all, not only fault,
But as from thought, so from suspicion free.
Thy presence broad-seals our delights for pure;
What's done in Cynthia's sight, is done secure.

CYN  That then so answer'd, dearest Arete,
What th' argument, or of what sort our sports
Are like to be this night, I not demand.
Nothing which duty, and desire to please,
Bears written in the forehead, comes amiss.
But unto whose Invention must we owe,
The complement of this nights furniture?

MARE.  Excellent goddess, to a man's, whose worth,
without hyperbole, I thus may praise;
p 222
One at least studious of deserving well,
And, to speak truth, indeed deserving well.
Potential merit stands for actual,
Where only opportunity doth want,
Not will, nor power; both which in him abound,
One whom the Muses and Minerva love;
For whom should they, than Crites, more esteem,
Whom Phoebus, though not Fortune, holdeth dear?
And, which convinceth excellence in him,
A principal admirer of yourself:
Even through the ungentle injuries of Fate,
And difficulties, which do virtue choke,
Thus much of him appears.  What other things
Of farther note do lie unborn in him,
Them I do leave for cherishment to shew,
And for a goddess graciously to judge.

CYN.  We have already judged him, Arete,
Nor are we ignorant how noble minds
Suffer too much through those indignities
Which times, and vicious persons cast on them.
Ourself have ever vowed to esteem
As virtue for itself, so fortune, base;
Who's first in worth, the same be first in place.
Nor farther notice, Arete, we crave
Then thine approval's sovereign warranty:
Let 't be thy care to make us known to him;
Cynthia shall brighten what the world made dim.
[EXIT ARETE.


THE FIRST MASQUE.
ENTER CUPID, DISGUISED AS ANTEROS, FOLLOWED BY STORGE, AGLAIA, EUPHANTASTE,
AND APHELEIA.
CUP.  Clear pearl of heaven, and not to be farther ambitious in titles,
Cynthia!  the fame of this illustrious night, among others, hath also drawn
these four fair virgins from the palace of their queen Perfection, (a word
which makes no sufficient difference betwixt her's and thine,) to visit thy
imperial court: for she, their sovereign not finding where to dwell among
men, before her return to heaven, advised them wholly to consecrate
themselves to thy celestial service, as in whose clear spirit (the proper
element and sphere of virtue) they should behold not her alone, their
ever-honoured mistress, but themselves (more truly themselves) to live
enthronised.  Herself would have commended them unto thy favour more
particularly, but that she knows no commendation is more available with
thee, than that of proper virtue.  Nevertheless she willed them to present
this crystal mound, a note of monarchy, and symbol of perfection, to thy
more worthy deity; which, as here by me they most humbly do, so amongst the
rarities thereof, that is the chief, to shew whatsoever the world hath
excellent, howsoever remote and various.  But your irradiate judgement will
soon discover the secrets
p 223
of this little crystal world.  Themselves, to appear more plainly, because
they know nothing more odious then false pretexts, have chosen to express
their several qualities thus in
several colours.
The first, in citron colour, is natural affection, which, given us to
procure our good, is sometime called Storge; and as everyone is nearest to
himself, so this handmaid of reason, allowable Self-love, as it is without
harm, so are none without it:  her place in the court of Perfection was to
quicken minds in the pursuit of honour.  Her device is a perpendicular
level, upon a cube or square; the word, se suo modulo'; alluding to that
true measure of one's self, which as every one ought to make, so is it most
conspicuous in thy divine example.
The second, in green is Aglaia, delectable and pleasant conversation, whose
property it is to move a kindly delight, and sometime not without laughter:
her office to entertain assemblies, and keep societies together with fair
familiarity.  Her device within a ring of clouds, a heart with shine about
it; the word, 'curarum nubila pello':  an allegory of Cynthia's light,
which no less clears the sky then her fair mirth the heart.
The third, in discoloured mantle spangled all over, is
Euphantaste, a well-conceited Wittiness, and employed in honouring the
court with the riches of her pure invention.  Her device, upon a Petasus,
or Mercurial hat, a crescent; The word; 'sic laus ingenii'; inferring that
the praise and glory of wit doth ever increase, as doth thy growing moon.
The fourth in white is Apheleia, a nymph as pure and simple as the soul, or
as an abrase table, and is therefore called Simplicity; without folds,
without plaits, without colour, without counterfeit; and (to speak plainly)
plainness itself.  Her device is no device.  The word under her silver
shield, 'omnis abest fucus';  alluding to thy spotless self, who art as far
from impurity as from mortality.
Myself, celestial goddess, more fit for the court of Cynthia than the
arbours of Cytherea, am called Anteros, or Love's enemy; the more welcome
therefore to thy court, and the fitter to conduct this quaternion, who, as
they are thy professed votaries, and for that cause adversaries to Love,
yet thee, perpetual virgin, they both love, and vow to love eternally.

RE-ENTER ARETE, WITH CRITES.
CYN.  Not without wonder, nor without delight
Mine eyes have view'd, in contemplation's depth,
This work of wit, divine and excellent:
What shape, what substance, or what unknown power,
In virgin's habit, crown'd with laurel leaves,
And olive-branches woven in between,
On sea-girt rocks, like to a goddess shines!
O front!  O face!  O all celestial, sure,
And more then mortal!  Arete, behold
Another Cynthia, and another queen,
Whose glory, like a lasting plenilune,
Seems ignorant of what it is to wane.
p 224
Nor under heaven an object could be found
More fit to please.  Let Crites make approach.
Bounty forbids to pall our thanks with stay,
Or to defer our favour, after view:
The time of grace is, when the cause is new.

ARE.  Lo, here the man, celestial Delia,
Who (like a circle bounded in itself)
Contains as much as man in fulness may.
Lo, here the man; who, not of usual earth,
But of that nobler and more precious mould
Which Phoebus' self doth temper, is composed;
And who, though all were wanting to reward,
Yet, to himself he would not wanting be:
Thy favours gain is his ambition's most,
And labour's best; who (humble in his height)
Stands fixed silent in thy glorious sight.

CYN. With no less pleasure than we have beheld
This precious crystal, work of rarest wit,
Our eye doth read thee, now instiled, our Crites;
Whom learning, virtue, and our favour last,
Exempteth from the gloomy multitude.
With common eye the Supreme should not see:
Henceforth be ours, the more thyself to be.

CRI.  Heaven's purest light, whose orb may be eclipsed,
But not thy praise; divinest Cynthia!
How much too narrow for so high a grace,
Thine (save therein) unworthy Crites
Doth find himself!  forever shine thy fame;
Thine honours ever, as thy beauties do.
In me they must, my dark world's chiefest lights,
By whose propitious beams my powers are raised
To hope some part of those most lofty points,
Which blessed Arete hath pleased to name,
As marks, to which my endeavour's steps should bend:
Mine, as begun at thee, in thee must end.


THE SECOND MASQUE.
ENTER MERCURY AS A PAGE, INTRODUCING EUCOSMOS, EUPATHES, EUTOLMOS, AND EUCOLOS.

MER.  Sister of Phoebus to whose bright orb we owe, that we not complain of
his absence; these four brethren (for they are brethren, and sons of
Eutaxia, a lady known, and highly beloved of your resplendent deity) not
able to be absent, when Cynthia held a solemnity, officiously insinuate
themselves into thy presence:  for as there are four cardinal virtues, upon
which the whole frame of the court doth move, so are these the four
cardinal properties, without which the body of compliment moveth not.  With
these four silver javelins, (which they bear in their hands) they support
in princes' courts the state of the
p 225
presence, as by office they are obliged: which though
here they may seem superfluous, yet, for honour's sake, they thus presume
to visit thee, having also been employed in the palace of queen Perfection.
And though to them, that would make themselves gracious to a goddess,
sacrifices were fitter than presents, or Impresses, yet they both hope thy
favour, and (in place of either) use several symbols, containing the titles
of thy imperial dignity.
First, the hithermost, in the changeable blue and green robe, is the
commendably-fashioned gallant Eucosmos; whose courtly habit is the grace of
the presence, and delight of the surveying eye; whom ladies understand by
the names of Neat and Elegant.  His symbol is 'divae virgini', in which he
would express thy deity's principal glory, which hath ever been virginity.
The second, in the rich accoutrement, and robe of purple, empaled with
gold, is Eupathes; who entertains his mind with an harmless, but not
incurious variety; all the objects of his senses are sumptuous, himself a
gallant, that, without excess, can make use of superfluity, go richly in
embroideries, jewels, and what not, without vanity, and fare delicately
without gluttony; and therefore (not without cause) is universally thought
to be of fine humour.  His symbol is 'divae optimae'; an attribute to
express thy goodness, in which thou so resemblest Jove thy father.
The third, in the blush-coloured suit, is Eutolmos, as duly respecting
others, as never neglecting himself; commonly known by the title of good
Audacity; to courts and courtly assemblies, a guest most acceptable.  His
symbol is 'divae viragini'; to express thy hardy courage in chase of savage
beasts, which harbour in woods, and wildernesses.
The fourth, in watchet tinsel, is the kind, and truly benefique Eucolos,
who imparteth not without respect, but yet without difficulty, and hath the
happiness to make every kindness seem double, by the timely and freely
bestowing thereof.  He is the chief of them, who by the vulgar are said to
be of good nature.  His symbol is 'divae maximae'; an adjunct to signify
thy greatness, which in heaven, earth, and hell, is formidable.

MUSIC.  A DANCE BY THE TWO MASQUES JOINED, DURING WHICH CUPID AND MERCURY
RETIRE TO THE SIDE OF THE STAGE.
CUP. Is not that Amorphus, the traveller?

MER.  As though it were not!  do you not see how his legs are in travail
with a measure?

CUP.  Hedon, thy master is next.

MER.  What, will Cupid turn nomenclator, and cry them?

CUP.  No faith, but I have a comedy toward, that would not be lost for a
kingdom.

MER.  In good time, for Cupid will prove the comedy.

CUP.  Mercury, I am studying how to match them.

MER.  How to mismatch them were harder.

CUP.  They are the nymphs must do it; I shall sport myself with their
passions above measure.

p 226
MER.  Those nymphs would be tamed a little indeed, but I fear thou has not
arrows for the purpose.

CUP.  O yes, here be of all sorts, flights, rovers, and butt-shafts.  But I
can wound with a brandish, and never draw bow for the matter.

MER.  I cannot but believe it, my invisible archer, and yet methinks you
are tedious.

CUP.  It behoves me to be somewhat circumspect, Mercury; for if Cynthia
hear the twang of my bow, she'll go near to ship me with the string;
therefore, to prevent that, I thus discharge a brandish upon -- it makes no
matter which of the couples.  Phantaste and Amorphus, at you.
[WAVES HIS ARROW AT THEM.

MER.  Will the shaking of a shaft strike them into such a fever of affection?

CUP.  As well as the wink of an eye:  but, I pray thee, hinder me not with
thy prattle.

MER.  Jove forbid I hinder thee; Marry, all that I fear is Cynthia's
presence, which, with the cold of her chastity, casteth such an
antiperistasis about the place, that no heat of thine will tarry with the
patient.

CUP.  It will tarry the rather, for the antiperistasis will keep it in.

MER.  I long to see the experiment.

CUP.  Why their marrow boils already, or they are all turn'd eunuchs.

MER.  Nay, an't be so, I'll give over speaking, and be a spectator only.
THE FIRST DANCE ENDS.

AMO.  Cynthia, by my bright soul, is a right exquisite and spendidious
lady; yet Amorphus, I think, hath seen more fashions, I am sure more
countries; but whether I have or not, what need we gaze on Cynthia, that
have ourself to admire?

PHA.  O, excellent Cynthia!  yet if Phantaste sat where she does, and had
such a attire on her head, (for attire can do much,) I say no more -- but
goddesses are goddesses, and Phantaste is as she is!  I would the revels
were done once, I might go to my school of glass again, and learn to do
myself right after all this ruffling.

[MUSIC; THEY BEGIN THE SECOND DANCE.
MER.  How now Cupid?  here's a wonderful change with your brandish! do you
not hear how they dote?

CUP.  What prodigy is this?  no word of love, no mention, no motion!

MER.  Not a word my little ignis fatue, not a word.

CUP.  Are my darts enchanted?  is their vigour gone?  is their virtue --

MER.  What!  Cupid turned jealous of himself? ha, ha, ha!

CUP.  Laughs Mercury?

MER.  Is Cupid angry?

CUP.  Hath he not cause, when his purpose is so deluded?

MER.  A rare comedy, it shall be entitled Cupid's?

CUP.  Do not scorn us Hermes.
p 227

MER  Choler and Cupid are two fiery things; I scorn them not.  But I see
that come to pass which I presaged in the beginning.

CUP.  You cannot tell: perhaps the physic will not work so soon upon some
as upon others.  It may be the rest are not so resty.

MER.  "Ex ungue"; you know the old adage; as these so are the remainder.

CUP.  I'll try:  this is the same shaft with which I wounded Argurion.
[WAVES HIS ARROW AGAIN.

MER.  Ay, but let me save you a labour, Cupid:  there were certain bottles
of water fetch'd, and drunk off since that time, by these gallants.

CUP.  Jove strike me into earth! The Fountain of Self-love!

MER.    Nay faint not Cupid.

CUP.  I remember'd it not.

MER.  Faith, it was ominous to take the name of Anteros upon you; you know
not what charm or enchantment lies in the word:  you saw, I durst not
venture upon any device in our presentment, but was content to be no other
then a simple page.  Your arrows' properties, (to keep decorum,) Cupid, are
suited, it should seem, to the nature of him you personate.

CUP.  Indignity not to be borne!

MER.  Nay rather, an attempt to have been forborne.
[THE SECOND DANCE ENDS.

CUP.  How might I revenge myself on this insulting Mercury?  there's
Crites, his minion, he has not tasted of this water?
[WAVES HIS ARROW AT CRITES.]  It shall be so. Is Crites turn'd dotard on
himself too?

MER.  That follows not, because the venom of your shafts cannot pierce him,
Cupid.

CUP.  As though there were one antidote for these, and another for him?

MER.  As though there were not; or, as if one effect might not arise of
diverse causes?  What say you to Cynthia, Arete, Phronesis, Time, and
others there?

CUP.  They are divine.

MER.  And Crites aspires to be so.
[MUSIC; THEY BEGIN THE THIRD DANCE.

CUP.  But that shall not serve him.

MER.  'Tis like to do it, at this time.  But Cupid is grown too covetous,
that will not spare one of a multitude.

CUP.  One is more than a multitude.

MER.  Arete's favour makes any one shot-proof against thee, Cupid.  I pray
thee, light honey-bee, remember thou art not now in Adonis' garden, but in
Cynthia's presence, where thorns lie in garrison about the roses.  Soft,
Cynthia speaks.

CYN.  Ladies and gallants of our court, to end,
And give a timely period to our sports,
Let us conclude them, with declining night;
Our empire is but of the darker half.
p 228
And if you judge it any recompence
For your faire pains, t' have earn'd Diana's thanks,
Diana grants them, and bestows their crown
To gratify your acceptable zeal.
For you are they, that not, as some have done,
Do censure us, as too severe, and sour,
But as, more rightly, gracious to the good;
Although we not deny, unto the proud,
Or the profane, perhaps indeed austere:
For so Actaeon, by presuming far,
Did, to our grief, incur a fatal doom;
And so, swoln Niobe, comparing more
Than he presumed, was trophaeed into stone.
But are we therefore judged too extreme?
Seems it no crime to enter sacred bowers,
And hallowed places with impure aspect
Most lewdly to pollute?  Seems it no crime
To brave a deity?  Let mortals learn
To make religion of offending heaven.
And not at all to censure powers divine.
To men this argument should stand for firm,
A goddess did it, therefore it was good.
We are not cruel, nor delight in blood. --
But what have serious repetitions
To do with revels, and the sports of court?
We not intend to sour your late delights
With harsh expostulation.  Let suffice
That we take notice, and can take revenge
Of these calumnious, and lewd blasphemies.
For we are no less Cynthia than we were,
Nor is our power, but as ourself, the same:
Though we have now put on no tire of shine,
But mortal eyes undazzled may endure.
Years, are beneath the spheres, and time makes weak
Things under heaven, not powers which govern heaven.
And though ourself be in ourself secure,
Yet let not mortals challenge to themselves
Immunity from thence.  Lo, this is all:
Honour hath store of spleen, but wanteth gall.
Once more we cast the slumber of our thanks
On your ta'en toil, which here let take an end:
And that we not mistake your several worths,
Nor you our favour, from yourselves remove
What makes you not yourselves, those clouds of masque
Particular pains particular thanks do ask.
[THE DANCERS UNMASK.
How!  let me view you.  Ha!  are we contemn'd?
Is there so little awe of our disdain,
That any (under trust of their disguise)
Should mix themselves with others of the court,
p 229
And, without forehead boldly press so far,
As farther none? How apt is lenity
To be abused!  severity to be loath'd!
And yet, how much more doth the seeming face
Of neighbour virtues, and their borrow'd names,
Add of lewd boldness to loose vanities!
Who would have thought that Philautia durst,
Or have usurped noble Storge's name,
Or with that theft have ventured on our eyes?
Who would have thought, that all of them should hope
So much of our connivence, as to come
To grace themselves, with titles not their own?
Instead of med'cines, have we maladies?
And such imposthumes, as Phantaste is
Grow in our palace?  We must lance these sores,
Or all will putrify.  Nor are these all,
For we suspect a farther fraud then this:
Take off our veil, that shadows may depart,
And shapes appear, beloved Arete --  So,
Another face of things presents itself,
Than did of late.  What!  feather'd Cupid masqued,
And masked like to Anteros?  And stay! more strange!
Dear Mercury our brother, like a page,
To countenance the ambush of the boy!
Nor endeth our discovery as yet:
Gelaia like a nymph, that, but erewhile,
In male attire did serve Anaides?
Cupid came hither to find sport and game,
Who heretofore hath been too conversant
Among our train; but never felt revenge:
And Mercury bare Cupid company.
Cupid, we must confess, this time of mirth,
Proclaim'd by us, gave opportunity
To thy attempts, although no privilege:
Tempt us no farther; we cannot endure
Thy presence longer; vanish hence, away!
[EXIT CUPID.
You Mercury, we must entreat to stay,
And hear what we determine of the rest;
For in this plot we well perceive your hand.
But, (for we mean not a censorian task,
And yet to lance these ulcers grown so ripe,)
Dear Arete, and Crites, to you two
We give the charge; impose what pains you please:
Th' incurable cut off, the rest reform,
Remembering ever what we first decreed,
Since revels were proclaim'd, let now none bleed.

ARE.  How well Diana can distinguish times,
And sort her censures, keeping to herself
The doom of gods, leaving the rest to us!
p 230
Come, cite them, Crites, first, and then proceed.

CRI.  First, Philautia, for she was the first,
Then light Gelaia, in Aglaia's name,
Thirdly, Phantaste, and Moria next,
Main Follies all, and of the Female crew:
Amorphus, or Eucosmos' counterfeit,
Voluptuous Hedon ta'en for Eupathes,
Brazen Anaides, and Asotus last,
With his two pages, Morus, and Prosaites;
And thou, the traveller's evil, Cos, approach,
Impostors all, and male deformities --

ARE.  Nay forward, for I delegate my power.
And will that at thy mercy they do stand,
Whom they so oft, so plainly scorn'd before.
Tis virtue which they want, and wanting it,
Honour no garment to their backs can fit.
Then, Crites, practise thy discretion.

CRI.  Adored Cynthia, and bright Arete,
Another might seem fitter for this task,
Than Crites far, but that you judge not so:
For I not to appear vindicative,
Or mindful of contempts, which I contemn'd,
As done of impotence) must be remiss:
Who, as I was the author, in some sort,
To work their knowledge into Cynthia's sight,
So should be much severer to revenge
The indignity hence issuing to her name:
But there's not one of these, who are unpain'd,
Or by themselves unpunished; for vice
Is like a fury to the vicious mind,
And turns delight itself to punishment.
But we must forward, to define their doom.
You are offenders, that must be confess'd;
Do you confess it?

ALL.  We do.

CRI.  And that you merit sharp correction?

CRI.  Then we (reserving unto Delia's grace
Her farther pleasure, and to Arete
What Delia granteth) thus do sentence you:
That from this place (for Penance known of all,
Since you have drunk so deeply of Self-love)
You, two and two, singing a Palinode,
March to your several homes by Niobe's stone,
And offer up two tears a-piece thereon,
That it may change the name, as you must change,
And of a stone be called Weeping-cross:
Because it standeth cross of Cynthia's way,
One of whose names is sacred Trivia
p 231.
And after penance thus perform'd, you pass
In like set order; not as Midas did,
To wash his gold off into Tagus' stream;
But to the Well of knowledge, Helicon;
Where, purged of your present maladies,
Which are not few, nor slender, you become
Such as you fain would seem, and then return,
Offering your service to great Cynthia.
This is your sentence; if the goddess please
To ratify it with her high consent;
The scope of wise mirth unto fruit is bent.

CYN.  We do approve thy censure belov'd Crites;
Which Mercury, thy true propitious friend,
(A deity, next Jove, beloved of us,)
Will undertake to see exactly done.
And for this service of discovery,
Perform'd by thee, in honour of our name,
We vow to guerdon it with such due grace
As shall become our bounty, and thy place.
Princes that would their people should do well,
Must at themselves begin, as at the head;
For men, by their example, pattern out.
Their Imitations, and regard of laws:
A virtuous court, a world to virtue draws.

EXEUNT CYNTHIA AND HER NYMPHS, FOLLOWED BY ARETE AND CRITES: -- AMORPHUS,
PHANTASTE, ETC., GO OFF THE STAGE IN PAIRS, SINGING THE FOLLOWING

PALINODE

AMO.  From Spanish shrugs, French faces, smirks, irpes, and all affected
humours.

CHORUS. Good Mercury defend us.

PHA.  From secret friends, sweet servants, loves, doves, and such fantastic
humours.

CHORUS. Good Mercury defend us.

AMO.  From stabbing of arms, flap-dragons, healths, whiffs, and all such
swaggering humours.

CHORUS. Good Mercury defend us.

PHA.  From waving fans, coy glances, glicks, cringes, and all such
simpering humours,

X
CHORUS. Good Mercury defend us.

From making love by attorney, courting of puppets, and paying for new
acquaintance.

CHORUS. Good Mercury defend us.

PHA.  From perfumed dogs, monkeys, sparrows, dildoes,
and paraquettoes,.

CHORUS. Good Mercury defend us.

AMO.  From wearing bracelets of hair, shoe-ties, gloves, garters, and rings
with poesies.

CHORUS. Good Mercury defend us.
p 232
PHA.  From pargetting, painting, slicking, glazing, and renewing old
rivelled faces.

CHORUS. Good Mercury defend us.

AMO.  From 'squiring to tilt yards, play-houses, pageants,
and all such public places.

CHORUS. Good Mercury defend us.

PHA.  From entertaining one gallant to gull another, and making fools of
either,

CHORUS. Good Mercury defend us.

AMO.  From belying ladies favours, noblemen's countenance, coining
counterfeit employments, vain-glorious taking to them other men's services,
and all self-loving humours.

CHORUS. Good Mercury defend us.

MERCURY AND CRITES SING.

Now each one dry his weeping eyes,
And to the Well of Knowledge haste;
Where, purged of your maladies,
You may of sweeter waters taste:
And, with refined voice, report
The Grace of Cynthia, and her court.
[EXEUNT.

THE EPILOGUE.

Gentles, be't known to you, since I went in
I am turn'd rhymer, and do thus begin.
The author (jealous, how your sense doth take
His travails) hath enjoined me to make
Some short, and ceremonious epilogue;
But if I yet know what, I am a rogue:
He ties me to such laws as quite distract
My thoughts, and would a year of time exact.
I neither must be faint, remiss, nor sorry,
Sour, serious, confident, nor peremptory:
But betwixt these. Let's see; to lay the blame
Upon the children's action, that were lame.
To crave your favour with a begging knee,
Were to distrust the writer's faculty.
To promise better at the next we bring,
Prorogues disgrace, commends not any thing.
Stiffly to stand on this, and proudly approve
The play, might tax the Maker of Self-love.
I'll only speak what I have heard him say,
"By -- 'tis good, and if you like't, you may."

'Ecce rubet quidam, pallet, stupet, oscitat, odit
Hoc volo:  nunc nobis carmina nostra placent.


----------------------------------------------

GLOSSARY

ABATE, cast down, subdue
ABHORRING, repugnant (to), at variance
ABJECT, base, degraded thing, outcast
ABRASE, smooth, blank
ABSOLUTE(LY), faultless(ly)
ABSTRACTED, abstract, abstruse
ABUSE, deceive, insult, dishonour, make ill use of
ACATER, caterer
ACATES, cates
ACCEPTIVE, willing, ready to accept, receive
ACCOMMODATE, fit, befitting.  (The word was a fashionable one and used on
all occasions.  See "Henry IV.," pt. 2, iii.4)
ACCOST, draw near, approach
ACKNOWN, confessedly acquainted with
ACME, full maturity
ADALANTADO, lord deputy or governor of a Spanish province
ADJECTION, addition
ADMIRATION, astonishment
ADMIRE, wonder, wonder at
ADROP, philosopher's stone, or substance from which obtained
ADSCRIVE, subscribe
ADULTERATE, spurious, counterfeit
ADVANCE, life
ADVERTISE, inform, give intelligence
ADVERTISED, "be --," be it known to you
ADVERTISEMENT, intelligence
ADVISE, consider, bethink oneself, deliberate
ADVISED, informed, aware; "are you --?" have you found that out?
AFFECT, love, like; aim at; move
AFFECTED, disposed; beloved
AFFECTIONATE, obstinate; prejudiced
AFFECTS, affections
AFFRONT, "give the -- ," face
AFFY, have confidence in; betroth
AFTER, after the manner of
AGAIN, AGAINST, in anticipation of
AGGRAVATE, increase, magnify, enlarge upon
AGNOMINATION.  See Paranomasie
AIERY, nest, brood
AIM, guess
ALL HID, children's cry at hide-and-seek
ALL-TO, completely, entirely ("all-to-be-laden")
ALLOWANCE, approbation, recognition
ALMA-CANTARAS (astron.), parallels of altitude
ALMAIN, name of a dance
ALMUTEN, planet of chief influence in the horoscope
ALONE, unequalled, without peer
ALUDELS, subliming pots
AMAZED, confused, perplexed
AMBER, AMBRE, ambergris
AMBREE, MARY, a woman noted for her valour at the siege of Ghent, 1458
AMES-ACE, lowest throw at dice
AMPHIBOLIES, ambiguities
AMUSED, bewildered, amazed
AN, if
ANATOMY, skeleton, or dissected body
ANDIRONS, fire-dogs
ANGEL, gold coin worth 10s., stamped with the figure of the archangel Michael
ANNESH CLEARE, spring known as Agnes le Clare
ANSWER, return hit in fencing
ANTIC, ANTIQUE, clown, buffoon
ANTIC, like a buffoon
ANTIPERISTASIS, an opposition which enhances the quality it opposes
APOZEM, decoction
AFFERIL, peril
APPLE-JOHN, APPLE-SQUIRE, pimp, pander
APPLY, attach
APPREHEND, take into custody
APPREHENSIVE, quick of perception; able to perceive and appreciate
APPROVE, prove, confirm
APT, suit, adapt; train, prepare; dispose, incline
APT(LY), suitable(y), opportune(ly)
APTITUDE, suitableness
ARBOR, "make the --," cut up the game (Gifford)
ARCHES, Court of Arches
ARCHIE, Archibald Armstrong, jester to James I. and Charles I.
ARGAILE, argol, crust or sediment in wine casks
ARGENT-VIVE, quicksilver
ARGUMENT, plot of a drama; theme, subject; matter in question; token, proof
ARRIDE, please
ARSEDINE, mixture of copper and zinc, used as an imitation of gold-leaf
ARTHUR, PRINCE, reference to an archery show by a society who assumed arms,
etc., of Arthur's knights
ARTICLE, item
ARTIFICIALLY, artfully
ASCENSION, evaporation, distillation
ASPIRE, try to reach, obtain, long for
ASSALTO (Ital.), assault
ASSAY, draw a knife along the belly of the deer, a ceremony of the
hunting-field
ASSOIL, solve
ASSURE, secure possession or reversion of
ATHANOR, a digesting furnace, calculated to keep up a constant heat
ATONE, reconcile
ATTACH, attack, seize
AUDACIOUS, having spirit and confidence
AUTHENTIC(AL), of authority, authorised, trustworthy, genuine
AVISEMENT, reflection, consideration
AVOID, begone! get rid of
AWAY WITH, endure
AZOCH, Mercurius Philosophorum

BABION, baboon
BABY, doll
BACK-SIDE, back premises
BAFFLE, treat with contempt
BAGATINE, Italian coin, worth about the third of a farthing
BALARD, horse of magic powers known to old romance
BALDRICK, belt worn across the breast to support bugle, etc.
BALE (of dice), pair
BALK, overlook, pass by, avoid
BALLACE, ballast
BALLOO, game at ball
BALNEUM (BAIN MARIE), a vessel for holding hot water in which other vessels
are stood for heating
BANBURY, "brother of __," Puritan
BANDOG, dog tied or chained up
BANE, woe, ruin
BANQUET, a light repast; dessert
BARB, to clip gold
BARBEL, fresh-water fish
BARE, meer; bareheaded; it was "a particular mark of state and grandeur for
the coachman to be uncovered" (Gifford)
BARLEY-GREAK, game somewhat similar to base
BASE, game of prisoner's base
BASES, richly embroidered skirt reaching to the knees, or lower
BASILISK, fabulous reptile, believed to slay with its eye
BASKET, used for the broken provision collected for prisoners
BASON, basons, etc., were beaten by the attendant mob when bad characters
were "carted"
BATE, be reduced; abate, reduce
BATOON, baton, stick
BATTEN, feed, grow fat
BAWSON, badger
BEADSMAN, PRAYER-MAN, one engaged to pray for another
BEAGLE, small hound; fig. spy
BEAR IN HAND, keep in suspense, deceive with false hopes
BEARWARD, bear leader
BEDPHERE See Phere
BEDSTAFF, (?) wooden pin in the side of the bedstead for supporting the
bedclothes (Johnson); one of the sticks of "laths"; a stick used in making
a bed
BEETLE, heavy mallet
BEG, "I'd -- him," the custody of minors and idiots was begged for;
likewise property fallen forfeit to the Crown ("your house had been begged")
BELL-MAN, night watchman
BENJAMIN, an aromatic gum
BERLINA, pillory
BESCUMBER, defile
BESLAVE, beslabber
BESOGNO, beggar
BESPAWLE, bespatter
BETHLEHEM GABOR, Transylvanian hero, proclaimed King of Hungary
BEVER, drinking
BEVIS, SIR, knight of romance whose horse was equally celebrated
BEWAY, reveal, make known
BEZANT, heraldic term:  small gold circle
BEZOAR'S STONE, a remedy known by this name was a supposed antidote to poison
BID-STAND, highwayman
BIGGIN, cap, similar to that worn by the Beguines; nightcap
BILIVE (belive), with haste
BILE, nothing, empty talk
BILL, kind of pike
BILLET, wood cut for fuel, stick
BIRDING, thieving
BLACK SANCTUS, burlesque hymn, any unholy riot
BLANK, originally a small French coin
BLANK, white
BLANKET, toss in a blanket
BLAZE, outburst of violence
BLAZE, (her.) blazon; publish abroad
BLAZON, armorial bearings; fig. all that pertains to good birth and breeding
BLIN, "withouten --," without ceasing
BLOW, puff up
BLUE, colour of servants' livery, hence "-- order," "-- waiters"
BLUSHET, blushing one
BOB, jest, taunt
BOB, beat, thump
BODGE, measure
BODKIN, dagger, or other short, pointed weapon; long pin with which the
women fastened up their hair
BOLT, roll (of material)
BOLT, dislodge, rout out; sift (boulting-tub)
BOLT'S-HEAD, long, straight-necked vessel for distillation.
BOMBARD SLOPS, padded, puffed-out breeches
BONA ROBA, "good, wholesome, plum-cheeked wench"  (Johnson) -- not always
used in compliment
BONNY-CLABBER, sour butter-milk
BOOKHOLDER, prompter
BOOT, "to --," into the bargain; "no --," of no avail
BORACHIO, bottle made of skin
BORDELLO, brothel
BORNE IT, conducted, carried it through
BOTTLE (of han), bundle, truss
BOTTOM, skein or ball of thread; vessel
BOURD, jest
BOVOLI, snails or cockles dressed in the Italian manner (Gifford)
BOW-POT, flower vase or pot
BOYE, "terrible --," "angry --," roystering young bucks.  (See Nares)
BRABBLES (BRABBLESH), brawls
BRACH, bitch
BRADAMANTE, a heroine in 'Orlando Furioso'
BRADLEY, ARTHUR OF, a lively character commemorated in ballads
BRAKE, frame for confining a norse's feet while being shod, or strong curb
or bridle; trap
BRANCHED, with "detached sleeve ornaments, projecting from the shoulders of
the gown" (Gifford)
BRANDISH, flourish of weapon
BRASH, brace
BRAVE, bravado, braggart speech
BRAVE (adv.), gaily, finely (apparelled)
BRAVERIES, gallants
BRAVERY, extravagant gaiety of apparel
BRAVO, bravado, swaggerer
BRAZEN-HEAD, speaking head made by Roger Bacon
BREATHE, pause for relaxation; exercise
BREATH UPON, speak dispraisingly of
BREND, burn
BRIDE-ALE, wedding feast
BRIEF, abstract; (mus.) breve
BRISK, smartly dressed
BRIZE, breese, gadfly
BROAD-SEAL, state seal
BROCK, badger (term of contempt)
BROKE, transact business as a broker
BROOK, endure, put up with
BROUGHTON, HUGH, an English divine and Hebrew scholar
BRUIT, rumour
BUCK, wash
BUCKLE, bend
BUFF, leather made of buffalo skin, used for military and serjeants' coats,
etc.
BUFO, black tincture
BUGLE, long-shaped bead
BULLED, (?) boiled, swelled
BULLIONS, trunk hose
BULLY, term of familiar endearment
BUNGY, Friar Bungay, who had a familiar in the shape of a dog
BURDEN, refrain, chorus
BURGONET, closely-fitting helmet with visor
BURGULLION, braggadocio
BURN, mark wooden measures (" --ing of cans")
BURROUGH, pledge, security
BUSKIN, half-boot, foot gear reaching high up the leg
BUTT-SHAFT, barbless arrow for shooting at butts
BUTTER, NATHANIEL.  ("Staple of News"), a compiler of general news.  (See
Cunningham)
BUTTERY-HATCH, half-door shutting off the buttery, where provisions and
liquors were stored
BUY, "he bought me," formerly the guardianship of wards could be bought
BUZ, exclamation to enjoin silence
BUZZARD, simpleton
BY AND BY, at once
BY(E), "on the __," incidentally, as of minor or secondary importance; at
the side
BY-CHOP, by-blow, bastard

CADUCEUS, Mercury's wand
CALIVER, light kind of musket
CALLET, woman of ill repute
CALLOT, coif worn on the wigs of our judges or serjeants-at-law (Gifford)
CALVERED, crimped, or sliced and pickled.  (See Nares)
CAMOUCCIO, wretch, knave
CAMUSED, flat
CAN, knows
CANDLE-RENT, rent from house property
CANDLE-WASTER, one who studies late
CANTER, sturdy beggar
CAP OF MAINTENCE, an insignia of dignity, a cap of state borne before kings
at their coronation; also an heraldic term
CAPABLE, able to comprehend, fit to receive instruction, impression
CAPANEUS, one of the "Seven against Thebes"
CARACT, carat, unit of weight for precious stones, etc.; value, worth
CARANZA, Spanish author of a book on duelling
CARCANET, jewelled ornament for the neck
CARE, take care; object
CAROSH, coach, carriage
CARPET, table-cover
CARRIAGE, bearing, behaviour
CARWHITCHET, quip, pun
CASAMATE, casemate, fortress
CASE, a pair
CASE, "in --,"  in condition
CASSOCK, soldier's loose overcoat
CAST, flight of hawks, couple
CAST, throw dice; vomit; forecast, calculate
CAST, cashiered
CASTING-GLASS, bottle for sprinkling perfume
CASTRIL, kestrel, falcon
CAT, structure used in sieges
CATAMITE, old form of "ganymede"
CATASTROPHE, conclusion
CATCHPOLE, sheriff's officer
CATES, dainties, provisions
CATSO, rogue, cheat
CAUTELOUS, crafty, artful
CENSURE, criticism; sentence
CENSURE, criticise; pass sentence, doom
CERUSE, cosmetic containing white lead
CESS, assess
CHANGE, "hunt --," follow a fresh scent
CHAPMAN, retail dealer
CHARACTER, handwriting
CHARGE, expense
CHARM, subdue with magic, lay a spell on, silence
CHARMING, exercising magic power
CHARTEL, challenge
CHEAP, bargain, market
CHEAR, CHEER, comfort, encouragement; food, entertainment
CHECK AT, aim reproof at
CHEQUIN, gold Italian coin
CHEVEIL, from kidskin, which is elastic and pliable
CHIAUS, Turkish envoy; used for a cheat, swindler
CHILDERMASS DAY, Innocents' Day
CHOKE-BAIL, action which does not allow of bail
CHRYSOPOEIA, alchemy
CHRYSOSPERM, ways of producing gold
CIBATION, adding fresh substances to supply the waste of evaporation
CIMICI, bugs
CINOPER, cinnabar
CIOPPINI, chopine, lady's high shoe
CIRCLING BOY, "a species of roarer; one who in some way drew a man into a
snare, to cheat or rob him" (Nares)
CIRCUMSTANCE, circumlocution, beating about the bush; ceremony, everything
pertaining to a certain condition; detail, particular
CITRONISE, turn citron colour
CITTERN, kind of guitar
CITY-WIRES, woman of fashion, who made use of wires for hair and dress
CIVIL, legal
CLAP, clack, chatter
CLAPPER-DUDGEON, downright beggar
CLAPS HIS DISH, a clap, or clack, dish (dish with a movable lid) was
carried by beggars and lepers to show that the vessel was empty, and to
give sound of their approach
CLARIDIANA, heroine of an old romance
CLARISSIMO, Venetian noble
CLEM, starve
CLICKET, latch
CLIM O' THE CLOUGHS, etc., wordy heroes of romance
CLIMATE, country
CLOSE, secret, private; secretive
CLOSENESS, secrecy
CLOTH, arras, hangings
CLOUT, mark shot at, bull's eye
CLOWN, countryman, clodhopper
COACH-LEAVES, folding blinds
COALS, "bear no --," submit to no affront
COAT-ARMOUR, coat of arms
COAT-CARD, court-card
COB-HERRING, HERRING-COB, a young herring
COB-SWAN, male swan
COCK-A-HOOP, denoting unstinted jollity; thought to be derived from turning
on the tap that all might drink to the full of the flowing liquor
COCKATRICE, reptile supposed to be produced from a cock's egg and to kill
by its eye -- used as a term of reproach for a woman
COCK-BRAINED, giddy, wild
COCKER, pamper
COCKSCOMB, fool's cap
COCKSTONE, stone said to be found in a cock's gizzard, and to possess
particular virtues
CODLING, softening by boiling
COFFIN, raised crust of a pie
COG, cheat, wheedle
COIL, turmoil, confusion, ado
COKELY, master of a puppet-show (Whalley)
COKES, fool, gull
COLD-CONCEITED, having cold opinion of, coldly affected towards
COLE-HARBOUR, a retreat for people of all sorts
COLLECTION, composure; deduction
COLLOP, small slice, piece of flesh
COLLY, blacken
COLOUR, pretext
COLOURS, "fear no --," no enemy (quibble)
COLSTAFF, cowlstaff, pole for carrying a cowl=tub
COME ABOUT, charge, turn round
COMFORTABLE BREAD, spiced gingerbread
COMING, forward, ready to respond, complaisant
COMMENT, commentary; "sometime it is taken for a lie or fayned tale"
(Bullokar, 1616)

COMMODITY, "current for --," allusion to practice of money-lenders, who
forced the borrower to take part of the loan in the shape of worthless
goods on which the latter had to make money if he could
COMMUNICATE, share
COMPASS, "in --," within the range, sphere
COMPLEMENT, completion, completement; anything required for the perfecting
or carrying out of a person or affair; accomplishment
COMPLEXION, natural disposition, constitution
COMPLIMENT, See Complement
COMPLIMENTARIES, masters of accomplishments
COMPOSITION, constitution; agreement, contract
COMPOSURE, composition
COMPTER, COUNTER, debtors' prison
CONCEALMENT, a certain amount of church property had been retained at the
dissolution of the monasteries; Elizabeth sent commissioners to search it
out, and the courtiers begged for it
CONCEIT, idea, fancy, witty invention, conception, opinion
CONCEIT, apprehend
CONCEITED, fancifully, ingeniously devised or conceived; possessed of
intelligence, witty, ingenious (hence well conceited, etc.); disposed to
joke; of opinion, possessed of an idea
CONCEIVE, understand
CONCENT, harmony, agreement
CONCLUDE, infer, prove
CONCOCT, assimilate, digest
CONDEN'T, probably conducted
CONDUCT, escort, conductor
CONEY-CATCH, cheat
CONFECT, sweetmeat
CONFER, compare
CONGIES, bows
CONNIVE, give a look, wink, of secret intelligence
CONSORT, company, concert
CONSTANCY, fidelity, ardour, persistence
CONSTANT, confirmed, persistent, faithful
CONSTANTLY, firmly, persistently
CONTEND, strive
CONTINENT, holding together
CONTROL (the point), bear or beat down
CONVENT, assembly, meeting
CONVERT, turn (oneself)
CONVEY, transmit from one to another
CONVINCE, evince, prove; overcome, overpower; convict
COP, head, top; tuft on head of birds; "a cop" may have reference to one or
other meaning; Gifford and others interpret as "conical, terminating in a
point"
COPE-MAN, chapman
COPESMATE, companion
CORV (Lat. Copia), abundance, copiousness
CORN ("powder - "), grain
COROLLARY, finishing part or touch
CORSIVE, corrosive
CORTINE, curtain, (arch.) wall between two towers, etc.
CORYAT, famous for his travels, published as 'Coryat's Crudities'
COSSET, pet lamb, pet
COSTARD, head
COSTARD-MONGER, apple-seller, coster-monger
COSTS, ribs
COTE, hut
COTHURNAL, from "cothurnus," a particular boot worn by actors in Greek tragedy
COTQUEAN, hussy
COUNSEL, secret
COUNTENANCE, means necessary for support; credit, standing
COUNTER.  See Compter
COUNTER, pieces of metal or ivory for calculating at play
COUNTER, "hunt --," follow scent in reverse direction
COUNTERFEIT, false coin
COUNTERPANE, one part or counterpart of a deed or indenture
COUNTERPOINT, opposite, contrary point
COURT-DISH, a kind of drinking-cup (Halliwell); N.E.D. quotes from Bp.
Goodman's 'Court of James I.: "The king...caused his carver to cut him out
a court-dish, that is, something of every dish, which he sent him as part
of his reversion," but this does not sound like short allowance or small
receptacle
COURT-DOR, fool
COURTEAU, curtal, small horse with docked tail
COURTSHIP, courtliness
COVETISE, avarice
COWSHARD, cow dung
COXCOMB, fool's cap, fool
COY, shrink; disdain
COYSTREL, low varlet
COZEN, cheat
CRACK, lively young rogue, wag
CRACK, crack up, boast; come to grief
CRAMBE, game of crambo, in which the players find rhymes for a given word
CRANCH, craunch
CRANTON, spider-like; also fairy appellation for a fly (Gifford, who refers
to lines in Drayton's "Nimphidia")
CRIMP, game at cards
CRINCLE, draw back, turn aside
CRISPED, with curled or waved hair
CROP, gather, reap
CROPSHIRE, a kind of herring.  (See N.E.D.)
CROSS, any piece of money, many coins being stamped with a cross
CROSS AND FILE, heads and tails
CROSSLET, crucible
CROWD, fiddle
CRUDITIES, undigested matter
CRUMP, curl up
CRUSADO, Portuguese gold coin, marked with a cross
CRY ("he that cried Italian):, "speak in a musical cadence," intone, or
declaim(?); cry up
CUCKING-STOOL, used for the ducking of scolds, etc.
CUCURBITE, a gourd-shaped vessel used for distillation
CUERPO, "in --," in undress
CULLICE, broth
CULLION, base fellow, coward
CULLISEN, badge worn on their arm by servants
CULVERIN, kind of cannon
CUNNING, skill
CUNNING, skilful
CUNNING-MAN, fortune-teller
CURE, care for
CURIOUS(LY), scrupulous, particular; elaborate, elegant(ly), dainty(ly)
(hence "in curious")
CURST, shrewish, mischievous
CURTAL, dog with docked tail, of inferior sort
CUSTARD, "quaking --," " -- politic," reference to a large custard which
formed part of a city feast and afforded huge entertainment, for the fool
jumped into it, and other like tricks were played.  (See "All's Well, etc."
ii. 5, 40)
CUTWORK, embroidery, open-work
CYPRES (CYPRUS) (quibble), cypress (or cyprus) being a transparent
material, and when black used for mourning

DAGGER (" -- frumety"), name of tavern
DARGISON, apparently some person known in ballad or tale
DAUPHIN MY BOY, refrain of old comic song
DAW, daunt
DEAD LIFT, desperate emergency
DEAR, applied to that which in any way touches us nearly
DECLINE, turn off from; turn away, aside
DEFALK, deduct, abate
DEFEND, forbid
DEGENEROUS, degenerate
DEGREES, steps
DELATE, accuse
DEMI-CULVERIN, cannon carrying a ball of about ten pounds
DENIER, the smallest possible coin, being the twelfth part of a sou
DEPART, part with
DEPENDANCE, ground of quarrel in duello language
DESERT, reward
DESIGNMENT, design
DESPERATE, rash, reckless
DETECT, allow to be detected, betray, inform against
DETERMINE, terminate
DETRACT, draw back, refuse
DEVICE, masque, show; a thing moved by wires, etc., puppet
DEVISE, exact in every particular
DEVISED, invented
DIAPASM, powdered aromatic herbs, made into balls of perfumed paste.  (See
Pomander)
DIBBLE, (?) moustache (N.E.D.); (?) dagger (Cunningham)
DIFFUSED, disordered, scattered, irregular
DIGHT, dressed
DILDO, refrain of popular songs; vague term of low meaning
DIMBLE, dingle, ravine
DIMENSUM, stated allowance
DISBASE, debase
DISCERN, distinguish, show a difference between
DISCHARGE, settle for
DISCIPLINE, reformation; ecclesiastical system
DISCLAIM, renounce all part in
DISCOURSE, process of reasoning, reasoning faculty
DISCOURTSHIP, discourtesy
DISCOVER, betray, reveal; display
DISFAVOUR, disfigure
DISPARGEMENT, legal term supplied to the unfitness in any way of a marriage
arranged for in the case of wards
DISPENSE WITH, grant dispensation for
DISPLAY, extend
DIS'PLE, discipline, teach by the whip
DISPOSED, inclined to merriment
DISPOSURE, disposal
DISPRISE, depreciate
DISPUNCT, not punctilious
DISQUISITION, search
DISSOLVED, enervated by grief
DISTANCE, (?) proper measure
DISTASTE, offence, cause of offence
DISTASTE, render distasteful
DISTEMPERED, upset, out of humour
DIVISION (mus.), variation, modulation
DOG-BOLT, term of contempt
DOLE, given in dole, charity
DOLE OF FACES, distribution of grimaces
DOOM, verdict, sentence
DOP, dip, low bow
DOR, beetle, buzzing insect, drone, idler
DOR, (?) buzz; "give the --," make a fool of
DOSSER, pannier, basket
DOTES, endowments, qualities
DOTTEREL, plover; gull, fool
DOUBLE, behave deceitfully
DOXY, wench, mistress
DRACHM, Greek silver coin
DRESS, groom, curry
DRESSING, coiffure
DRIFT, intention
DRYFOOT, track by mere scent of foot
DUCKING, punishment for minor offences
DUILL, grieve
DUMPS, melancholy, originally a mournful melody
DURINDANA, Orlando's sword
DWINDLE, shrink away, be overawed

EAN, yean, bring forth young
EASINESS, readiness
EBOLITION, ebullition
EDGE, sword
EECH, eke
EGREGIOUS, eminently excellent
EKE, also, moreover
E-LA, highest note in the scale
EGGS ON THE SPIT, important business on hand
ELF-LOCK, tangled hair, supposed to be the work of elves
EMMET, ant
ENGAGE, involve
ENGHLE.  See Ingle
ENGHLE, cajole; fondle
ENGIN(E), device, contrivance; agent; ingenuity, wit
ENGINER, engineer, deviser, plotter
ENGINOUS, crafty, full of devices; witty, ingenious
ENGROSS, monopolise
ENS, an existing thing, a substance
ENSIGNS, tokens, wounds
ENSURE, assure
ENTERTAIN, take into service
ENTREAT, plead
ENTREATY, entertainment
ENTRY, place where a deer has lately passed
ENVOY, denouement, conclusion
ENVY, spite, calumny, dislike, odium
EPHEMERIDES, calendars
EQUAL, just, impartial
ERECTION, elevation in esteem
ERINGO, candied root of the sea-holly, formerly used as a sweetmeat and
aphrodisiac
ERRANT, arrant
ESSENTIATE, become assimilated
ESTIMATION, esteem
ESTRICH, ostrich
ETHNIC, heathen
EURIPUS, flux and reflux
EVEN, just equable
EVENT, fate, issue
EVENT(ED), issue(d)
EVERT, overturn
EXACUATE, sharpen
EXAMPLESS, without example or parallel
EXCALIBUR, King Arthur's sword
EXEMPLIFY, make an example of
EXEMPT, separate, exclude
EXEQUIES, obsequies
EXHALE, drag out
EXHIBITION, allowance for keep, pocket-money
EXORBITANT, exceeding limits of propriety or law, inordinate
EXORNATION, ornament
EXPECT, wait
EXPLATE, terminate
EXPLICATE, explain, unfold
EXTEMPORAL, extempore, unpremediated
EXTRACTION, essence
EXTRAORDINARY, employed for a special or temporary purpose
EXTRUDE, expel
EYE, "in --," in view
EYEBRIGHT, (?) a malt liquor in which the herb of this name was infused, or
a person who sold the same (Gifford)
EYE-TINGE, least shade or gleam

FACE, appearance
FACES ABOUT, military word of command
FACINOROUS, extremely wicked
FACKINGS, faith
FACT, deed, act, crime
FACTIOUS, seditious, belonging to a party, given to party feeling
FAECES, dregs
FAGIOLI, French beans
FAIN, forced, necessitated
FAITHFUL, believing
FALL, ruff or band turned back on the shoulders; or, veil
FALSIFY, feign (fencing term)
FAME, report
FAMILIAR, attendant spirit
FANTASTICAL, capricious, whimsical
FARCE, stuff
FAR-FET.  See Fet
FARTHINGAL, hooped petticoat
FAUCET, tapster
FAULT, lack; loss, break in line of scent; "for --," in default of
FAUTOR, partisan
FAYLES, old table game similar to backgammon
FEAR(ED), affright(ed)
FEAT, activity, operation; deed, action
FEAT, elegant, trim
FEE, "in --" by feudal obligation
FEIZE, beat, belabour
FELLOW, term of contempt
FENNEL, emblem of flattery
FERE, companion, fellow
FERN-SEED, supposed to have power of rendering invisible
FET, fetched
FETCH, trick
FEUTERER (Fr. vautrier), dog-keeper
FEWMETS, dung
FICO, fig
FIGGUM, (?) jugglery
FIGMENT, fiction, invention
FIRK, frisk, move suddenly, or in jerks; "-- up," stir up, rouse; "firks
mad," suddenly behaves like a madman
FIT, pay one out, punish
FITNESS, readiness
FITTON (FITTEN), lie, invention
FIVE-AND-FIFTY, "highest number to stand on at primero" (Gifford)
FLAG, to fly low and waveringly
FLAGON CHAIN, for hanging a smelling-bottle (Fr. flacon) round the neck
(?).  (See N.E.D.)
FLAP-DRAGON, game similar to snap-dragon
FLASKET, some kind of basket
FLAW, sudden gust or squall of wind
FLAWN, custard
FLEA, catch fleas
FLEER, sneer, laugh derisively
FLESH, feed a hawk or dog with flesh to incite it to the chase; initiate in
blood-shed; satiate
FLICKER-MOUSE, bat
FLIGHT, light arrow
FLITTER-MOUSE, bat
FLOUT, mock, speak and act contemptuously
FLOWERS, pulverised substance
FLY, familiar spirit
FOIL, weapon used in fencing; that which sets anything off to advantage
FOIST, cut-purse, sharper
FOND(LY), foolish(ly)
FOOT-CLOTH, housings of ornamental cloth which hung down on either side a
horse to the ground
FOOTING, foothold; footstep; dancing
FOPPERY, foolery
FOR, "-- failing," for fear of failing
FORBEAR, bear with; abstain from
FORCE, "hunt at --," run the game down with dogs
FOREHEAD, modesty; face, assurance, effrontery
FORESLOW, delay
FORESPEAK, bewitch; foretell
FORETOP, front lock of hair which fashion required to be worn upright
FORGED, fabricated
FORM, state formally
FORMAL, shapely; normal; conventional
FORTHCOMING, produced when required
FOUNDER, disable with over-riding
FOURM, form, lair
FOX, sword
FRAIL, rush basket in which figs or raisins were packed
FRAMFULL, peevish, sour-tempered
FRAPLER, blusterer, wrangler
FRAYING, "a stag is said to fray his head when he rubs it against a tree
to...cause the outward coat of the new horns to fall off" (Gifford)
FREIGHT (of the gazetti), burden (of the newspapers)
FREQUENT, full
FRICACE, rubbing
FRICATRICE, woman of low character
FRIPPERY, old clothes shop
FROCK, smock-frock
FROLICS, (?) humorous verses circulated at least (N.E.D.); couplets wrapped
round sweetmeats (Cunningham)
FRONTLESS, shameless
FROTED, rubbed
FRUMETY, hulled wheat boiled in milk and spiced
FRUMP, flout, sneer
FUCUS, dye
FUGEAND, (?) figment:  flighty, restless (N.E.D.)
FULLAM, false dice
FULMART, polecat
FULSOME, foul, offensive
FURIBUND, raging, furious

GALLEY-FOIST, city-barge, used on Lord Mayor's Day, when he was sworn into
his office at Westminster (Whalley)
GALLIARD, lively dance in triple time
GAPE, be eager after
GARAGANTUA, Rabelais' giant
GARB, sheaf (Fr. Gerbe); manner, fashion, behaviour
BARD, guard, trimming, gold or silver lace, or other ornament
GARDED, faced or trimmed
GARNISH, fee
GAVEL-KIND, name of a land-tenure existing chiefly in Kent; from 16th
century often used to denote custom of dividing a deceased man's property
equally among his sons (N.E.D.)
GAZETTE, small Venetian coin worth about three-farthings
GEANCE, jaunt, errand
GEAR (GEER), stuff, matter, affair
GELID, frozen
GEMONIES, steps from which the bodies of criminals were thrown into the river
GENERAL, free, affable
GENIUS, attendant spirit
GENTRY, gentlemen; manners characteristic of gentry, good breeding
GIB-CAT, tom-cat
GIGANTOMACHIZE, start a giants' war
GIGLOT, wanton
GIMBLET, gimlet
GING, gang
GLASS ("taking in of shadows, etc."), crystal or beryl
GLEEK, card game played by three; party of three, trio; side glance
GLICK (GLEEK), jest, gibe
GLIDDER, glaze
GLORIOUSLY, of vain glory
GODWIT, bird of the snipe family
GOLD-END-MAN, a buyer of broken gold and silver
GOLL, hand
GONFALIONIER, standard-bearer, chief magistrate, etc.
GOOD, sound in credit
GOOD-Year, good luck
GOOSE-TURD, colour of.  (See Turd)
GORCROW, carrion crow
GORGET, neck armour
GOSSIP, godfather
GOWKED, from "gowk," to stand staring and gaping like a fool
GRANNAM, grandam
GRASS, (?) grease, fat
GRATEFUL, agreeable, welcome
GRATIFY, give thanks to
GRATITUDE, gratuity
GRATULATE, welcome, congratulate
GRAVITY, dignity
GRAY, badger
GRICE, cub
GRIEF, grievance
GRIPE, vulture, griffin
GRIPE'S EGG, vessel in shape of
GROAT, fourpence
GROGRAN, coarse stuff made of silk and mohair, or of coarse silk
GROOM-PORTER, officer in the royal household
GROPE, handle, probe
GROUND, pit (hence "grounded judgments")
GUARD, caution, heed
GUARDANT, heraldic term:  turning the head only
GUILDER, Dutch coin worth about 4d.
GULES, gullet, throat; heraldic term for red
GULL, simpleton, dupe
GUST, taste

HAB NAB, by, on, chance
HABERGEON, coat of mail
HAGGARD, wild female hawk; hence coy, wild
HALBERD, combination of lance and battle-axe
HALL, "a --!" a cry to clear the room for the dancers
HANDSEL, first money taken
HANGER, loop or strap on a sword-belt from which the sword was suspended
HAP, fortune, luck
HAPPILY, haply
HAPPINESS, appropriateness, fitness
HAPPY, rich
HARBOUR, track, trace (an animal) to its shelter
HARD-FAVOURED, harsh-featured
HARPOCRATES, Horus the child, son of Osiris, figured with a finger pointing
to his mouth, indicative of silence
HARRINGTON, a patent was granted to Lord H. for the coinage of tokens (q.v.)
HARROT, herald
HARRY NICHOLAS, founder of a community called the "Family of Love"
HAY, net for catching rabbits, etc.
HAY! (Ital. hai!), you have it (a fencing term)
HAY IN HIS HORN, ill-tempered person
HAZARD, game at dice; that which is staked
HEAD, "first --," young deer with antlers first sprouting; fig. a
newly-ennobled man
HEADBOROUGH, constable
HEARKEN AFTER, inquire; "hearken out," find, search out
HEARTEN, encourage
HEAVEN AND HELL ("Alchemist"), names of taverns
HECTIC, fever
HEDGE IN, include
HELM, upper part of a retort
HER'NSEW, hernshaw, heron
HIERONIMO (JERONIMO), hero of Kyd's "Spanish Tragedy"
HOBBY, nag
HOBBY-HORSE, imitation horse of some light material, fastened round the
waist of the morrice-dancer, who imitated the movements of a skittish horse
HODDY-DODDY, fool
HOIDEN, hoyden, formerly applied to both sexes (ancient term for leveret?
Gifford)
HOLLAND, name of two famous chemists
HONE AND HONERO, wailing expressions of lament or discontent
HOOD-WIND'D, blindfolded
HORARY, hourly
HORN-MAD, stark mad (quibble)
HORN-THUMB, cut-purses were in the habit of wearing a horn shield on the thumb
HORSE-BREAD-EATING, horses were often fed on coarse bread
HORSE-COURSES, horse-dealer
HOSPITAL, Christ's Hospital
HOWLEGLAS, Eulenspiegel, the hero of a popular German tale which related
his buffooneries and knavish tricks
HUFF, hectoring, arrogance
HUFF IT, swagger
HUISHER (Fr. huissier), usher
HUM, beer and spirits mixed together
HUMANITIAN, humanist, scholar
HUMOROUS, capricious, moody, out of humour; moist
HUMOUR, a word used in and out of season in the time of Shakespeare and Ben
Jonson, and ridiculed by both
HUMOURS, manners
HUMPHREY, DUKE, those who were dinnerless spent the dinner-hour in a part
of St. Paul's where stood a monument said to be that of the duke's; hence
"dine with Duke Humphrey," to go hungry
HURTLESS, harmless

IDLE, useless, unprofitable
ILL-AFFECTED, ill-disposed
ILL-HABITED, unhealthy
ILLUSTRATE, illuminate
IMBIBITION, saturation, steeping
IMBROCATA, fencing term:  a thrust in tierce
IMPAIR, impairment
IMPART, give money
IMPARTER, any one ready to be cheated and to part with his money
IMPEACH, damage
IMPERTINENCIES, irrelevancies
IMPERTINENT(LY), irrelevant(ly), without reason or purpose
IMPOSITION, duty imposed by
IMPOTENTLY, beyond power of control
IMPRESS, money in advance
IMPULSION, incitement
IN AND IN, a game played by two or three persons with four dice
INCENSE, incite, stir up
INCERATION, act of covering with wax; or reducing a substance to softness
of wax
INCH, "to their --es," according to their stature, capabilities
INCH-PIN, sweet-bread
INCONVENIENCE, inconsistency, absurdity
INCONY, delicate, rare (used as a term of affection)
INCUBEE, incubus
INCUBUS, evil spirit that oppresses us in sleep, nightmare
INCURIOUS, unfastidious, uncritical
INDENT, enter into engagement
INDIFFERENT, tolerable, passable
INDIGESTED, shapeless, chaotic
INDUCE, introduce
INDUE, supply
INEXORABLE, relentless
INFANTED, born, produced
INFLAME, augment charge
INGENIOUS, used indiscriminantly for ingenuous; intelligent, talented
INGENUITY, ingenuousness
INGENUOUS, generous
INGINE.  See Engin
INGINER, engineer.  (See Enginer)
INGLE, OR ENGHLE, bosom friend, intimate, minion
INHABITABLE, uninhabitable
INJURY, insult, affront
IN-MATE, resident, indwelling
INNATE, natural
INNOCENT, simpleton
INQUEST, jury, or other official body of inquiry
INQUISITION, inquiry
INSTANT, immediate
INSTRUMENT, legal document
INSURE, assure
INTEGRATE, complete, perfect
INTELLIGENCE, secret information, news
INTEND, note carefully, attend, give ear to, be occupied with
INTENDMENT, intention
INTENT, intention, wish
INTENTION, concentration of attention or gaze
INTENTIVE, attentive
INTERESSED, implicated
INTRUDE, bring in forcibly or without leave
INVINCIBLY, invisibly
INWARD, intimate
IRPE (uncertain), "a fantastic grimace, or contortion of the body: (Gifford)

JACE, Jack o' the clock, automaton figure that strikes the hour;
Jack-a-lent, puppet thrown at in Lent
JACK, key of a virginal
JACOB'S STAFF, an instrument for taking altitudes and distances
JADE, befool
JEALOUSY, JEALOUS, suspicion, suspicious
JERKING, lashing
JEW'S TRUMP, Jew's harp
JIG, merry ballad or tune; a fanciful dialogue or light comic act
introduced at the end or during an interlude of a play
JOINED (JOINT)-STOOL, folding stool
JOLL, jowl
JOLTHEAD, blockhead
JUMP, agree, tally
JUST YEAR, no one was capable of the consulship until he was forty-three

KELL, cocoon
KELLY, an alchemist
KEMB, comb
KEMIA, vessel for distillation
KIBE, chap, sore
KILDERKIN, small barrel
KILL, kiln
KIND, nature; species; "do one's --," act according to one's nature
KIRTLE, woman's gown of jacket and petticoat
KISS OR DRINK AFORE ME, "this is a familiar expression, employed when what
the speaker is just about to say is anticipated by another" (Gifford)
KIT, fiddle
KNACK, snap, click
KNIPPER-DOLING, a well-known Anabaptist
KNITTING CUP, marriage cup
KNOCKING, striking, weighty
KNOT, company, band; a sandpiper or robin snipe (Tringa canulus);
flower-bed laid out in fanciful design
KURSINED, KYRSIN, christened

LABOURED, wrought with labour and care
LADE, load(ed)
LADING, load
LAID, plotted
LANCE-KNIGHT (Lanzknecht), a German mercenary foot-soldier
LAP, fold
LAR, household god
LARD, garnish
LARGE, abundant
LARUM, alarum, call to arms
LATTICE, tavern windows were furnished with lattices of various colours
LAUNDER, to wash gold in aqua regia, so as imperceptibly to extract some of it.
LAVE, ladle, bale
LAW, "give --,"  give a start (term of chase)
LAXATIVE, loose
LAY ABOARD, run alongside generally with intent to board
LEAGUER, siege, or camp of besieging army
LEASING, lying
LEAVE, leave off, desist
LEER, leering or "empty, hence, perhaps leer horse without a rider; leer is
an adjective meaning uncontrolled, hence 'leer drunkards'" (Halliwell);
according to Nares, a leer (empty) horse meant also a led horse; leeward,
left

LEESE, lose
LEGS, "make --," do obeisance
LEIGEP, resident representative
LEIGERITY, legerdemain
LEMMA, subject proposed, or title of the epigram
LENTER, slower
LET, hinder
LET, hindrance
LEVEL COIL, a rough game...in which one hunted another from his seat.
Hence used for any noisy riot (Halliwell)
LEWD, ignorant
LEYSTALLS, receptacles of filth
LIBERAL, ample
LIEGER, ledger, register
LIFT(ING), steal(ing)
LIGHT, alight
LIGHTLY, commonly, usually, often
LIKE, please
LIKELY, agreeable, pleasing
LIME-HOUND, leash-, blood-hound
LIMMER, vile, worthless
LIN, leave off
Line, "by --," by rule
LINSTOCK, staff to stick in the ground, with forked head to hold a lighted
match for firing cannon
LIQUID, clear
LIST, listen, hard; like, please
LIVERY, legal term, delivery of the possession, etc.
LOGGET, small log, stick
LOOSE, solution; upshot, issue; release of an arrow
LOSE, give over, desist from; waste
LOUTING, bowing, cringing
LUCULENT, bright of beauty
LUDGATHIANS, dealers on Ludgate Hill
LURCH, rob, cheat
LUTE, to close a vessel with some kind of cement

MACK, unmeaning expletive
MADGE_HOWLET or own, barn-owl
MAIM, hurt, injury
MAIN, chief concern (used as a quibble on heraldic term for "hand")
MAINPRISE, becoming surety for a prisoner so as to procure his release
MAINTENANCE, giving aid, or abetting
MAKE, mate
MAKE, MADE, acquaint with business, prepare(d), instruct(ed)
MALLANDERS, disease of horses
MALT HORSE, dray horse
MAMMET, puppet
MAMMOTHREPT, spoiled child
MANAGE, control (term used for breaking-in horses); handling, administration
MANGO, slave-dealer
MANGONISE, polish up for sale
MANIPLES, bundles, handfuls
MANKIND, masculine, like a virago
MANEIND, humanity
MAPLE FACE, spotted face (N.E.D.)
MARCH PANE, a confection of almonds, sugar, etc.
MARK, "fly to the --," "generally said of a goshawk when, having 'put in' a
covey of partridges, she takes stand, making the spot where they
disappeared from view until the falconer arrives to put them out to her"
(Harting, Bibl. Accip. Gloss. 226)
MARLE, marvel
MARROW-BONE MAN, one often on his knees for prayer
MARRY! exclamation derived from the Virgin's name
MARRY GIP, "probably originated from By Mary Gipcy = St. Mary of Egypt,
(N.E.D.)
MARTAGAN, Turk's cap lily
MARYHINCHCO, stringhalt
MASORETH, Masora, correct form of the scriptural text according to Hebrew
tradition
Mass, abb. for master
MAUND, beg
MAUTHER, girl, maid
MEAN, moderation
MEASURE, dance, more especially a stately one
MEAT, "carry -- in one's mouth," be a source of money or entertainment
MEATH, metheglin
MECHANICAL, belonging to mechanics, mean, vulgar
MEDITERRANEO, middle aisle of St. Paul's, a general resort for business and
amusement
MEET WITH, even with
MELICOTTON, a late kind of peach
MENSTRUE, solvent
MERCAT, market
MERD, excrement
MERE, undiluted; absolute, unmitigated
MESS, party of four
METHEGLIN, fermented liquor, of which one ingredient was honey
METOPOSCOPY, study of physiognomy
MIDDLING GOSSIP, go-between
MIGNIARD, dainty, delicate
MILE-END, training-ground of the city
MINE-MEN, sappers
MINION, form of cannon
MINSITIVE, (?) mincing, affected (N.E.D.)
MISCELLANY MADAM, "a female trader in miscellaneous articles; a dealer in
trinkets or ornaments of various kinds, such as kept shops in the New
Exchange" (Nares)
MISCELLINE, mixed grain; medley
MISCONCEIT, misconception
MISPRISE, MISPRISION, mistake, misunderstanding
MISTAKE AWAY, carry away as if by mistake
MITHRIDATE, an antidote against poison
MOCCINIGO, small Venetian coin, worth about ninepence
MODERN, in the mode; ordinary, common-place
MOMENT, force or influence of value
MONTANTO, upward stroke
MONTH'S MIND, violent desire
MOORISH, like a moor or waste
MORGLAY, sword of Bevis of Southampton
MORRICe-DANCE, dance on May Day, etc., in which certain personages were
represented
MORTALITY, death
MORT-MAL, old score, gangrene
MOSCADINO, confection flavoured with musk
MOTHER, Hysterica passio
MOTION, proposal, request; puppet, puppet-show; "one of the small figures
on the face of a large clock which was moved by the vibration of the
pendulum" (Whalley)
MOTION, suggest, propose
MOTLEY, parti-coloured dress of a fool; hence used to signify pertaining
to, or like, a fool
MOTTE, motto
MOURNIVAL, set of four aces or court cards in a hand; a quartette
MOW, setord hay or sheaves of grain
MUCH!  expressive of irony and incredulity
MUCKINDER, handkerchief
MULE, "born to ride on --," judges or serjeants-at-law formerly rode on
mules when going in state to Westminster (Whally)
MULLETS, small pincers
MUM-CHANCE, game of chance, played in silence
MUN, must
MUREY, dark crimson red
MUSCOVY-GLASS, mica
MUSE, wonder
MUSICAL, in harmony
MUSS, mouse; scramble
MYROBOLANE, foreign conserve, "a dried plum, brought from the Indies"
MYSTERY, art, trade, profession.

NAIL, "to the --" (ad unguem), to perfection, to the very utmost
NATIVE, natural
NEAT, cattle
NEAT, smartly apparelled; unmixed; dainty
NEATLY, neatly finished
NEATNESS, elegance
NEIS, nose, scent
NEUF (NEAF, NEIF), fist
NEUFT, newt
NIAISE, foolish, inexperienced person
NICE, fastidious, trivial, finical, scrupulous
NICENESS, fastidiousness
NICK, exact amount; right moment; "set in the --" meaning uncertain
NICE, suit, fit' hit, seize the right moment, etc., exactly hit on, hit off
NOBLE, gold coin worth 6s.8d.
NOCENT, harmful
NIL, not will
NOISE, company of musicians
NOMENTACK, an Indian chief from Virginia
NONES, nonce
NOTABLE, egregious
NOTE, sign, token
NOUGHT, "be --," go to the devil, be hanged, etc.
NOWT-HEAD, blockhead
NUMBER, rhythm
NUPSON, oaf, simpleton

OADE, wood
OBARNI, preparation of mead
OBJECT, oppose; expose; interpose
OBLATRANT, barking, railing
OBNOXIOUS, liable, exposed; offensive
OBSERVANCE, homage, devoted service
OBSERVANT, attentive, obsequious
OBSERVE, show deference, respect
OBSERVER, one who shows deference, or waits upon another
OBSTANCY, legal phrase, "juridical opposition"
OBSTREPEROUS, clamorous, vociferous
OBSTUPEFACT, stupefied
ODLING, (?) "must have some relation to tricking and cheating" (Nares)
OMINOUS, deadly, fatal
ONCE, at once; for good and all; used also for additional emphasis
ONLY, pre-eminent, special
OPEN, make public; expound
OPPILATION, obstruction
OPPONE, oppose
OPPOSITE, antagonist
OFFPRESS, suppress
ORIGINOUS, native
ORT, remnant, scrap
OUT, "to be --." to have forgotten one's part; not at one with each other
OUTCRY, sale by auction
OUTREGUIDANCE, arrogance, presumption
OUTSPEAK, speak more than
OVERPARTED, given too difficult a part to play
OWLSPIEGEL.  See Howleglass
OYEZ!  (O YES!), hear ye!  call of the public crier when about to make a
proclamation

PACKING PENNY, "give a --," dismiss, send packing
PAD, highway
PAD-HORSE, road-horse
PAINED (PANED) SLOPS, full breeches made of strips of different colour and
material
PAINFUL, diligent, painstaking
PAINT, blush
PALINODE, ode of recantation
PALL, weaken, dim, make stale
PALM, triumph
PAN, skirt of dress or coat
PANNEL, pad, or rough kind of saddle
PANNIER-ALLY, inhabited by tripe-sellers
PANNIER-MAN, hawker; a man employed about the inns of court to bring in
provisions, set the table, etc.
PANTOFLE, indoor shoe, slipper
PARAMENTOS, fine trappings
PARANOMASIE, a play upon words
PARANTORY, (?) peremptory
PARCEL, particle, fragment (used contemptuously); article
PARCEL, part, partly
PARCEL-POET, poetaster
PARERGA, subordinate matters
PARGET, to paint or plaster the face
PARLE, parley
PARLOUS, clever, shrewd
PART, apportion
PARTAKE, participate in
PARTED, endowed, talented
PARTICULAR, individual person
PARTIZAN, kind of halberd
PARTRICH, partridge
PARTS, qualities endowments
PASH, dash, smash
PASS, care, trouble oneself
PASSADO, fending term:  a thrust
PASSAGE, game at dice
PASSINGLY, exceedingly
PASSION, effect caused by external agency
PASSION, "in --," in so melancholy a tone, so pathetically
PATOUN, (?) Fr. Paton, pellet of dough; perhaps the "moulding of the
tobacco...for the pipe" (Gifford); (?) variant of Petun, South American
name of tobacco
PATRICO, the recorder, priest, orator of strolling beggars or gipsies
PATTEN, shoe with wooden sole; "go --," keep step with, accompany
PAUCA VERBA, few words
PAVIN, a stately dance
PEACE, "with my master's --," by leave, favour
PECULIAR, individual, single
PEDANT, teacher of the languages
PEEL, baker's shovel
PEEP, speak in a small or shrill voice
PEEVISH(LY), foolish(ly), capricious(ly); childish(ly)
PELICAN, a retort fitted with tube or tubes, for continuous distillation
PENCIL, small tuft of hair
PERDUE, soldier accustomed to hazardous service
PEREMPTORY, resolute, bold; imperious; thorough, utter, absolute(ly)
PERIMETER, circumference of a figure
PERIOD, limit, end
PERK, perk up
PERPETUANA, "this seems to be that glossy kind of stuff now called
everlasting, and anciently worn by serjeants and other city officers"
(Gifford)
PERSPICIL, optic glass
PERSTRINGE, criticise, censure
PERSUADE, inculcate, commend
PERSWAY, mitigate
PERTINACY, pertinacity
PESTLING, pounding, pulverising, like a pestle
PETASUS, broad-brimmed hat or winged cap worn by Mercury
PETITIONARY, supplicatory
PETRONEL, a kind of carbine or light gas carried by horsemen
PETULANT, pert, insolent
PHERE.  See Fere
PHLEGMA, watery distilled liquor (old chem. "water")
PHRENETIC, madman
PICARDIL, still upright collar fastened on to the coat (Whalley)
PICT-HATCH, disreputable quarter of London
PIECE, person, used for woman or girl; a gold coin worth in Jonson's time
20s. or 22s.
PIECES OF EIGHT, Spanish coin: piastre equal to eight reals
PIED, variegated
PIE-POUDRES (Fr. pied-poudreux, dusty-foot), court held at fairs to
administer justice to itinerant vendors and buyers
PILCHER, term of contempt; one who wore a buff or leather jerkin, as did
the serjeants of the counter; a pilferer
PILED, pilled, peeled, bald
PILL'D, polled, fleeced
PIMLICO, "sometimes spoken of as a person -- perhaps master of a house
famous for a particular ale" (Gifford)
PINE, afflict, distress
PINK, stab with a weapon; pierce or cut in scallops for ornament
PINNACE, a go-between in infamous sense
PISMIRE, ant
PISTOLET, gold coin, worth about 6s.
PITCH, height of a bird of prey's flight
PLAGUE, punishment, torment
PLAIN, lament
PLAIN SONG, simple melody
PLAISE, plaice
PLANET, "struck with a --," planets were supposed to have powers of
blasting or exercising secret influences
PLAUSIBLE, pleasing
PLAUSIBLY, approvingly
PLOT, plan
PLY, apply oneself to
POESIE, posy, motto inside a ring
POINT IN HIS DEVICE, exact in every particular
POINTE, tabbed laces or cords for fastening the breeches to the doublet
POINT-TRUSSER, one who trussed (tied) his master's points (q.v.)
POISE, weigh, balance
POKING-STICK, stick used for setting the plaits of ruffs
POLITIC, politician
POLITIC, judicious, prudent, political
POLITICIAN, plotter, intriguer
POLL, strip, plunder, gain by extortion
POMMANDER, ball of perfume, worn or hung about the person to prevent
infection, or for foppery
POMMADO, vaulting on a horse without the aid of stirrups
PONTIC, sour
POPULAR, vulgar, of the populace
POPULOUS, numerous
PORT, gate; print of a deer's foot
PORT, transport
PORTAGUE, Portuguese gold coin, worth over 3 or f4
PORTCULLIS, "-- of coin," some old coins have a portcullis stamped on their
reverse (Whalley)
PORTENT, marvel, prodigy; sinister omen
PORTENTOUS, prophesying evil, threatening
PORTER, references appear "to allude to Parsons, the king's porter, who
was... near seven feet high" (Whalley)
POSSESS, inform, acquaint
POST AND PAIR, a game at cards
POSY, motto.  (See Poesie)
POTCH, poach
POULT-FOOT, club-foot
POUNCE, claw, talon
PRACTICE, intrigue, concerted plot
PRACTISE, plot, conspire
PRAGMATIC, an expert, agent
PRAGMATIC, officious, conceited, meddling
PRECEDENT, record of proceedings
PRECEPT, warrant, summons
PRECISIAN(ISM), Puritan(ism), preciseness
PREFER, recomment
PRESENCE, presence chamber
PRESENT(LY), immediate(ly), without delay; at the present time; actually
PRESS, force into service
PREST, ready
PRETEND, assert, allege
PREVENT, anticipate
PRICE, worth, excellence
PRICK, point, dot used in the writing of Hebrew and other languages
PRICK, prick out, mark off, select; trace, track; "-- away," make off with
speed
PRIMERO, game of cards
PRINCOX, pert boy
PRINT, "in --," to the letter, exactly
PRISTINATE, former
PRIVATE, private interests
PRIVATE, privy, intimate
PROCLIVE, prone to
PRODIGIOUS, monstrous, unnatural
PRODIGY, monster
PRODUCED, prolonged
PROFESS, pretend
PROJECTION, the throwing of the "powder of projection" into the crucible to
turn the melted metal into gold or silver
PROLATE, pronounce drawlingly
PROPER, of good appearance, handsome; own, particular
PROPERTIES, state necessaries
PROPERTY, duty; tool
PRORUMPED, burst out
PROTEST, vow, proclaim (an affected word of that time); formally declare
non-payment, etc., of bill of exchange; fig. failure of personal credit,
etc.
PROVANT, soldier's allowance -- hence, of common make
PROVIDE, foresee
PROVIDENCE, foresight, prudence
PUBLICATION, making a thing public of common property (N.E.D.)
PUCKFIST, puff-ball; insipid, insignificant, boasting fellow
PUFF-WING, shoulder puff
PUISNE, judge of inferior rank, a junior
PULCHRITUDE, beauty
PUMP, shoe
PUNGENT, piercing
PUNTO, point, hit
PURCEPT, precept, warrant
PURE, fine, capital, excellent
PURELY, perfectly, utterly
PURL, pleat or fold of a ruff
PURSE-NET, net of which the mouth is drawn together with a string
PURSUIVANT, state messenger who summoned the persecuted seminaries; warrant
officer
PURSY, PURSINESS, shortwinded(ness)
PUT, make a push, exert yourself (N.E.D.)
PUT OFF, excuse, shift
PUT ON, incite, encourage; proceed with, take in hand, try

QUACKSALVER, quack
QUAINT, elegant, elaborated, ingenious, clever
QUAR, quarry
QUARRIED, seized, or fed upon, as prey
QUEAN, hussy, jade
QUEASY, hazardous, delicate
QUELL, kill, destroy
QUEST, request; inquiry
QUESTION, decision by force of arms
QUESTMAN, one appointed to make official inquiry
QUIB, QUIBLIN, quibble, quip
QUICK, the living
QUIDDIT, quiddity, legal subtlety
QUIRK, clever turn or trick
QUIT, requite, repay; acquit, absolve; rid; forsake, leave
QUITTER-BONE, disease of horses
QUODLING, codling
QUOIT, throw like a quoit, chuck
QUOTE, take note, observe, write down

RACK, neck of mutton or pork (Halliwell)
RAKE UP, cover over
RAMP, rear, as a lion, etc.
RAPT, carry away
RAPT, enraptured
RASCAL, young or inferior deer
RASH, strike with a glancing oblique blow, as a boar with its tusk
RATSEY, GOMALIEL, a famous highwayman
RAVEN, devour
REACH, understand
REAL, regal
REBATU, ruff, turned-down collar
RECTOR, RECTRESS, director, governor
REDARGUE, confute
REDUCE, bring back
REED, rede, counsel, advice
REEL, run riot
REFEL, refute
REFORMADOES, disgraced or disbanded soldiers
REGIMENT, government
REGRESSION, return
REGULAR ("Tale of a Tub"), regular noun (quibble) (N.E.D.)
RELIGION, "make -- of," make a point of, scruple of
RELISH, savour
REMNANT, scrap of quotation
REMORA, species of fish
RENDER, depict, exhibit, show
REPAIR, reinstate
REPETITION, recital, narration
REREMOUSE, bat
RESIANT, resident
RESIDENCE, sediment
RESOLUTION, judgment, decision
RESOLVE, inform; assure; prepare, make up one's mind; dissolve; come to a
decision, be convinced; relax, set at ease
RESPECTIVE, worthy of respect; regardful, discriminative
RESPECTIVELY, with reverence
RESPECTLESS, regardless
RESPIRE, exhale; inhale
RESPONSIBLE, correspondent
REST, musket-rest
REST, "set up one's --," venture one's all, one's last stake (from game of
primero)
REST, arrest
RESTIVE, RESTY, dull, inactive
RETCHLESS(NESS), reckless(ness)
RETIRE, cause to retire
RETRICATO, fencing term
RETRIEVE, rediscovery of game once sprung
RETURNS, ventures sent abroad, for the safe return of which so much money
is received
REVERBERATE, dissolve or blend by reflected heat
REVERSE, REVERSO, back-handed thrust, etc., in fencing
REVISE, reconsider a sentence
RHEUM, spleen, caprice
RIBIBE, abusive term for an old woman
RID, destroy, do away with
RIFLING, raffling, dicing
RING, "cracked within the --," coins so cracked were unfit for currency
RISSE, risen, rose
RIVELLED, wrinkled
ROARER, swaggerer
ROCHET, fish of the gurnet kind
ROCK, distaff
RODOMONTADO, braggadocio
ROGUE, vagrant, vagabond
RONDEL, "a round mark in the score of a public-house" (Nares); roundel
ROOK, sharper; fool, dupe
ROSAKER, similar to ratsbane
ROSA-SOLIS, a spiced spirituous liquor
ROSES, rosettes
ROUND, "gentlemen of the --," officers of inferior rank
ROUND TRUNKS, trunk hose, short loose breeches reaching almost or quite to
the knees
ROUSE, carouse, bumper
ROVER, arrow used for shooting at a random mark at uncertain distance
ROWLY-POWLY, roly-poly
RUDE, RUDENESS, unpolished, rough(ness), coarse(ness)
RUFFLE, flaunt, swagger
RUG, coarse frieze
RUG-GOWNS, gown made of rug
RUSH, reference to rushes with which the floors were then strewn
RUSHER, one who strewed the floor with rushes
RUSSET, homespun cloth of neutral or reddish-brown colour

SACK, loose, flowing gown
SADLY, seriously, with gravity
SAD(NESS), sober, serious(ness)
SAFFI, bailiffs
ST. THOMAS A WATERINGS, place in Surrey where criminals were executed
SAKER, small piece of ordnance
SALT, leap
SALT, lascivious
SAMPSUCHINE, sweet marjoram
SARABAND, a slow dance
SATURNALS, began December 17
SAUCINESS, presumption, insolence
SAUCY, bold, impudent, wanton
SAUNA (Lat.), a gesture of contempt
SAVOUR, perceive; gratify, please; to partake of the nature
SAY, sample
SAY, assay, try
SCALD, word of contempt, implying dirt and disease
SCALLION, shalot, small onion
SCANDERBAG, "name which the Turks (in allusion to Alexander the Great) gave
to the brave Castriot, chief of Albania, with whom they had continual wars.
His romantic life had just been translated" (Gifford)
SCAPE, escape
SCARAB, beetle
SCARTOCCIO, fold of paper, cover, cartouch, cartridge
SCONCE, head
SCOPE, aim
SCOT AND LOT, tax, contribution (formerly a parish assessment)
SCOTOMY, dizziness in the head
SCOUR, purge
SCOURSE, deal, swap
SCRATCHES, disease of horses
SCROYLE, mean, rascally fellow
SCRUPLE, doubt
SEAL, put hand to the giving up of property or rights
SEALED, stamped as genuine
SEAM-RENT, ragged
SEAMING LACES, insertion or edging
SEAR UP, close by searing, burning
SEARCED, sifted
SECRETARY, able to keep a secret
SECULAR, worldly, ordinary, commonplace
SECURE, confident
SEELIE, happy, blest
SEISIN, legal term:  possession
SELLARY, lewd person
SEMBLABLY, similarly
SEMINARY, a Romish priest educated in a foreign seminary
SENSELESS, insensible, without sense or feeling
SENSIBLY, perceptibly
SENSIVE, sensitive
SENSUAL, pertaining to the physical or material
SERENE, harmful dew of evening
SERICON, red tincture
SERVANT, lover
SERVICES, doughty deeds of arms
SESTERCE, Roman copper coin
SET, stake, wager
SET UP, drill
SETS, deep plaits of the ruff
SEWER, officer who served up the feast, and brought water for the hands of
the guests
SHAPE, a suit by way of disguise
SHIFT, fraud, dodge
SHIFTER, cheat
SHITTLE, shuttle; "shittle-cock," shuttlecock
SHOT, tavern reckoning
SHOT-CLOG, one only tolerated because he paid the shot (reckoning) for the rest
SHOT-FREE, scot-free, not having to pay
SHOVE-GROAT, low kind of gambling amusement, perhaps somewhat of the nature
of pitch and toss
SHOT-SHARKS, drawers
SHREWD, mischievous, malicious, curst
SHREWDLY, keenly, in a high degree
SHRIVE, sheriff; posts were set up before his door for proclamations, or to
indicate his residence
SHROVING, Shrovetide, season of merriment
SIGILLA, seal, mark
SILENCED BRETHERN, MINISTERS, those of the Church or Nonconformists who had
been silenced, deprived, etc.
SILLY, simple, harmless
SIMPLE, silly, witless; plain, true
SIMPLES, herbs
SINGLE, term of chase, signifying when the hunted stag is separated from
the herd, or forced to break covert
SINGLE, weak, silly
SINGLE-MONEY, small change
SINGULAR, unique, supreme
SI-QUIS, bill, advertisement
SKELDRING, getting money under false pretences; swindlilng
SKILL, "it -- a not," matters not
SEINK(ER), pour, draw(er), tapster
SKIRT, tail
SLEEK, smooth
SLICE, fire shovel or pan (dial.)
SLICK, sleek, smooth
'SLID, 'SLIGHT, 'SPRECIOUS, irreverent oaths
SLIGHT, sleight, cunning, cleverness; trick
SLIP, counterfeit coin, bastard
SLIPPERY, polished and shining
SLOPS, large loose breeches
SLOT, print of a stag's foot
SLUR, put a slur on; chear (by sliding a die in some way)
SMELT, gull, simpleton
SNORLE, "perhaps snarl as Puppy is addressed" (Cunningham)
SNOTTERIE, filth
SNUFF, anger, resentment; "take in --," take offence at
SNUFFERS, small open silver dishes for holding snuff, or receptacle for
placing snuffers in (Halliwell)
SOCK, shoe worn by comic actors
SOD, seethe
SOGGY, soaked, sodden
SOIL, "take --," said of a hunted stag when he takes to the water for safety
SOL, sou
SOLDADOES, soldiers
SOLICIT, rouse, excite to action
SOOTH, flattery, cajolery
SOOTHE, flatter, humour
SOPHISTICATE, adulterate
SORT, company, party; rank, degree
SORT, suit, fit; select
SOUSE, ear
SOUSED ("Devil is an Ass"), fol. read "sou't," which Dyce interprets as "a
variety of the spelling of 'shu'd': to shu is to scare a bird away."  (See
his Webster, p. 350)
SOWTER, cobbler
SPAGYRICA, chemistry according to the teachings of Paracelsus
SPAR, bar
SPEAK, make known, proclaim
SPECULATION, power of sight
SPED, to have fared well, prospered
SPEECE, species
SPIGHT, anger, rancour
SPINNER, spider
SPINSTRY, lewd person
SPITTLE, hospital, lazar-house
SPLEEN, considered the seat of the emotions
SPLEEN, caprice, humour, mood
SPRUNT, spruce
SPURGE, foam
SPUR-RYAL, gold coin worth 15s.
SQUIRE, square, measure; "by the --," exactly.
STAGGERING, wavering, hesitating
STAIN, disparagement, disgrace
STALE, decoy, or cover, stalking-horse
STALE, make cheap, common
STALE, approach stealthily or under cover
STALL, forestall
STANDARD, suit
STAPLE, market emporium
STARK, downright
STARTING-HOLES, loopholes of escape
STATE, dignity; canopied chair of state; estate
STATUMINATE, support vines by poles or stakes; used by Pliny (Gifford)
STAY, gag
STAY, await; detain
STICKLER, second or umpire
STIGMATISE, mark, brand
STILL, continual(ly), constant(ly)
STINKARD, stinking fellow
STINT, stop
STIPTIC, astringent
STOCCATA, thrust in fencing
STOCK-FISH, salted and dried fish
STOMACH, pride, valour
STOMACH, resent
STOOP, swoop down as a hawk
STOP, fill, stuff
STOPPLE, stopper
STOTE, stoat, weasel
STOUP, stoop, swoop=bow
STRAIGHT, straightway
STRAMAZOUN (Ital. stramazzone), a down blow, as opposed to the thrust
STRANGE, like a stranger, unfamiliar
STRANGENESS, distance of behaviour
STREIGHTS, OR BERMUDAS, labyrinth of alleys and courts in the Strand
STRIGONIUM, Grau in Hungary, taken from the Turks in 1597
STRIKE, balance (accounts)
STRINGHALT, disease of horses
STROKER, smoother, flatterer
STROOK, p.p. of "strike"
STRUMMEL-PATCHED, strummed is glossed in dialect dicts. as "a long, loose
and dishevelled head of hair"
STUDIES, studious efforts
STYLE, title; pointed instrument used for writing on wax tablets
SUBTLE, fine, delicate, thin; smooth, soft
SUBTLETY (SUBTILITY), subtle device
SUBURB, connected with loose living
SUCCUBAE, demons in form of women
SUCK, extract money from
SUFFERANCE, suffering
SUMMED, term of falconry:  with full-grown plumage
SUPER-NEGULUM, topers turned the cup bottom up when it was empty
SUPERSTITIOUS, over-scrupulous
SUPPLE, to make pliant
SURBATE, make sore with walking
SURCEASE, cease
SUR-REVERENCE, save your reverence
SURVISE, peruse
SUSCITABILITY, excitability
SUSPECT, suspicion
SUSPEND, suspect
SUSPENDED, held over for the present
SUTLER, victualler
SWAD, clown, boor
SWATH BANDS, swaddling clothes
SWINGE, beat

TABERD, emblazoned mantle or tunic worn by knights and heralds
TABLE(S), "pair of --," tablets, note-book
TABOR, small drum
TABRET, tabor
TAFFETA, silk; "tuft-taffeta," a more costly silken fabric
TAINT, "-- a staff," break a lance at tilting in an unscientific or
dishonourable manner
TAKE IN, capture, subdue
TAKE ME WITH YOU, let me understand you
TAKE UP, obtain on credit, borrow
TALENT, sum or weight of Greek currency
TALL, stout, brave
TANKARD-BEARERS, men employed to fetch water from the conduits
TARLETON, celebrated comedian and jester
TARTAROUS, like a Tartar
TAVERN-TOKEN, "to swallow a --," get drunk
TELL, count
TELL-TROTH, truth-teller
TEMPER, modify, soften
TENDER, show regard, care for cherish; manifest
TENT, "take --," take heed
TERSE, swept and polished
TERTIA, "that portion of an army levied out of one particular district or
division of a country" (Gifford)
TESTON, tester, coin worth 6d.
THIRDBOROUGH, constable
THREAD, quality
THREAVES, droves
THREE-FARTHINGS, piece of silver current under Elizabeth
THREE-PILED, of finest quality, exaggerated
THRIFTILY, carefully
THRUMS, ends of the weaver's warp; coarse yarn made from
THUMB-RING, familiar spirits were supposed capable of being carried about
in various ornaments or parts of dress
TIBICINE, player on the tibia, or pipe
TICK-TACK, game similar to backgammon
TIGHTLY, promptly
TIM, (?) expressive of a climax of nonentity
TIMELESS, untimely, unseasonable
TINCTURE, an essential or spiritual principle supposed by alchemists to be
transfusible into material things; an imparted characteristic or tendency
TINK, tinkle
TIPPET, "turn --," change behaviour or way of life
TIPSTAFF, staff tipped with metal
TIRE, head-dress
TIRE, feed ravenously, like a bird of prey
TITILLATION, that which tickles the senses, as a perfume
TOD, fox
TOILED, worn out, harassed
TOKEN, piece of base metal used in place of very small coin, when this was
scarce
TONNELS, nostrils
TOP, "parish --," large top kept in villages for amusement and exercise in
frosty weather when people were out of work
TOTER, tooter, player on a wind instrument
TOUSE, pull, read
TOWARD, docile, apt; on the way to; as regards; present, at hand
TOY, whim; trick; term of contempt
TRACT, attraction
TRAIN, allure, entice
TRANSITORY, transmittable
TRANSLATE, transform
TRAY-TRIP, game at dice (success depended on throwing a three) (Nares)
TREACHOUR (TRECHER), traitor
TREEN, wooden
TRENCHER, serving-man who carved or served food
TRENDLE-TAIL, trundle-tail, curly-tailed
TRICK (TRICKING), term of heraldry:  to draw outline of coat of arms, etc.,
without blazoning
TRIG, a spruce, dandified man
TRILL, trickle
TRILLIBUB, tripe, any worthless, trifling thing
TRIPOLY, "come from --," able to perform feats of agility, a "jest
nominal," depending on the first part of the word (Gifford)
TRITE, worn, shabby
TRIVIA, three-faced goddess (Hecate)
TROJAN, familiar term for an equal or inferior; thief
TROLL, sing loudly
TROMP, trump, deceive
TROPE, figure of speech
TROW, think, believe, wonder
TROWLE, troll
TROWSES, breeches, drawers
TRUCHMAN, interpreter
TRUNDLE, JOHN, well-known printer
TRUNDLE, roll, go rolling along
TRUNDLING CHEATS, term among gipsies and beggars for carts or coaches (Gifford)
TRUNK, speaking-tube
TRUSS, tie the tagged laces that fastened the breeches to the doublet
TUBICINE, trumpeter
TUCKET (Ital. toccato), introductory flourish on the trumpet
TUITION, guardianship
TUMBLE, a particular kind of dog so called from the mode of his hunting
TUMBREL-SLOP, loose, baggy breeches
TURD, excrement
TUSK, gnash the teeth (Century Dict.)
TWIRE, peep, twinkle
TWOPENNY ROOM, gallery
TYRING-HOUSE, attiring-room

ULENSPIEGEL.  See Howleglass
UMBRATILE, like or pertaining to a shadow
UMBRE, brown dye
UNBATED, unabated
UNBORED, (?) excessively bored
UNCARNATE, not fleshly, or of flesh
UNCOUTH, strange, unusual
UNDERTAKER, "one who undertook by his influence in the House of Commons to
carry things agreeably to his Majesty's wishes" (Whalley); one who becomes
surety for
UNEQUAL, unjust
UNEXCEPTED, no objection taken at
UNFEARED, unaffrighted
UNHAPPILY, unfortunately
UNICORN'S HORN, supposed antidote to poison
UNKIND(LY), unnatural(ly)
UNMANNED, untamed (term in falconry)
UNQUIT, undischarged
UNREADY, undressed
UNRUDE, rude to an extreme
UNSEASONED, unseasonable, unripe
UNSEELED, a hawk's eyes were "seeled" by sewing the eyelids together with
fine thread
UNTIMELY, unseasonably
UNVALUABLE, invaluable
UPBRAID, make a matter of reproach
UPSEE, heavy kind of Dutch beer (Halliwell); "-- Dutch," in the Dutch fashion
UPTAILS ALL, refrain of a popular song
URGE, allege as accomplice, instigator
URSHIN, URCHIN, hedgehog
USE, interest on money; part of sermon dealing with the practical
application of doctrine
USE, be in the habit of, accustomed to; put out to interest
USQUEBAUGH, whisky
USURE, usury
UTTER, put in circulation, make to pass current; put forth for sale

VAIL, bow, do homage
VAILS, tips, gratuities
VALL.  See Vail
VALLIES (Fr. valise), portmanteau, bag
VAPOUR(S) (n. and v.), used affectedly, like "humour," in many senses,
often very vaguely and freely ridiculed by Jonson; humour, disposition,
whims, brag(ging), hector(ing), etc.
VARLET, bailiff, or serjeant-at-mace
VAUT, vault
VEER (naut.), pay out
VEGETAL, vegetable; person full of life and vigour
VELLUTE, velvet
VELVET CUSTARD.  Cf. "Taming of the Shrew," iv. 3, 82, "custard coffin,"
coffin being the raised crust over a pie
VENT, vend, sell; give outlet to; scent snuff up
VENUE, bout (fencing term)
VERDUGO (Span.), hangman, executioner
VERGE, "in the --," within a certain distance of the court
VEX, agitate, torment
VICE, the buffoon of old moralities; some kind of machinery for moving a
puppet (Gifford)
VIE AND REVIE, to hazard a certain sum, and to cover it with a larger one.

VINCENT AGAINST YORK, two heralds-at-arms
VINDICATE, avenge
VIRGE, wand, rod
VIRGINAL, old form of piano
VIRTUE, valour
VIVELY, in lifelike manner, livelily
VIZARD, mask
VOGUE, rumour, gossip
VOICE, vote
VOID, leave, quit
VOLARY, cage, aviary
VOLLEY, "at --," "o' the volee," at random (from a term of tennis)
VORLOFFE, furlough

WADLOE, keeper of the Devil Tavern, where Jonson and his friends met in the
'Apollo' room (Whalley)
WAIGHTS, waits, night musicians, "band of musical watchmen" (Webster), or
old form of "hautboys"
WANNION, "vengeance," "plague" (Nares)
WARD, a famous pirate
WARD, guard in fencing
WATCHET, pale, sky blue
WEAL, welfare
WEED, garment
WEFT, waif
WEIGHTS, "to the gold --," to every minute particular
WELKIN, sky
WELL-SPOKEN, of fair speech
WELL-TORNED, turned and polished, as on a wheel
WELT, hem, border of fur
WHER, whether
WHETSTONE, GEORGE, an author who lived 1544(?) to 1587(?)
WHIFF, a smoke, or drink; "taking the --," inhaling the tobacco smoke or
some such accomplishment
WHIGH-HIES, neighings, whinnyings
WHIMSY, whim, "humour"
WHINILING, (?) whining, weakly
WHIT, (?) a mere jot
WHITEMEAT, food made of milk or eggs
WICKED, bad, clumsy
WICKER, pliant, agile
WILDING, esp. fruit of wild apple or crab tree (Webster)
WINE, "I have the -- for you," Prov.: I have the perquisites (of the
office) which you are to share (Cunningham)
WINNY, "same as old word 'wonne', to stay, etc." (Whalley)
WISE-WOMAN, fortune-teller
WISH, recommend
WISS (WUSSE), "I --," certainly, of a truth
WITHHOUT, beyond
WITTY, cunning, ingenious, clever
WOOD, collection, lot
WOODCOCK, term of contempt
WOOLSACK ("-- pies"), name of tavern
WORT, unfermented beer
WOUNDY, great, extreme
WREAK, revenge
WROUGHT, wrought upon
WUSSE, interjection.  (See Wiss)

YEANLING, lamb, kid

ZANY, an inferior clown, who attended upon the chief fool and mimicked his
tricks


End of The Project Gutenberg Etext of Cynthia's Revels
by Ben Johnson

