 Act 5 Part 2 of Cynthia's Rebels or the Fountain of Self-Love by Ben Johnson. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Scene 3. Enter Hesperus, Cynthia, Arete, Time, Fronicia, Sen, Thauma. Music accompanied, Hesperus sings. Queen and huntress chased and fared. Now the sun is late to sleep. Seated in thy silver chair, State in won't-head manner, Keep Hesperus in treats thy light, God as excellently bright. Earth, let not thy ambience shade, Dare itself to interpose. Cynthia's shining orb was made, Helmed to clear when day did close. Bless us then with wish-ed sight, God as excellently bright. Lay thy bow of pearl, And thy crystal shining quiver, Give unto the flying heart, Space to breathe how short so ever. Thou that makes the day of night, God as excellently bright. 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 wax and torch To burn and blaze while nutriment doth last. That once consumed out of Job's treasury, A new we take, and stick it in our sphere, To give the mutinous kind of wanting men Their looked-for light. Yet what is their dessert? Bounty is wronged, interpreted as do. Mortals can challenge not a ray by right, Yet do expect the whole of Cynthia's light. But if the deities withdrew their gifts for human follies, What could men deserve but death and darkness? It behooves the high for their own sakes To do things worthily. Most true, most sacred goddess, For the heavens receive no good of all the good they do. Nor Job, nor you, nor other heavenly powers, Are fed with fumes which do from incense rise, All 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 pleased with odour's redolent, But ignorant is all the race of men, Which still complains, not knowing why or when. Else noble are they 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 whom more fervently doth love Immortal honour and divine renown. But giddy cupid, Venus' frantic sun, Yet, already, if by this veiled light We but discovered what we not discern, Any the least of imputation 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. How synthianly 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 broadseals our delights for pure. What's done in Cynthia's sight Is done secure. That then so answered, dearest Arete, What the argument, or of what sort of 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 night's furniture? Excellent goddess to a man's who's worth without hyperbole, I thus may praise one at least studious Of deserving will 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 then crities, More esteem, whom Phoebus, though not fortune, Holdeth dear, And which convinces excellence in him. A principal admirer of yourself, Even through the un-gentle 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 show, And for a goddess graciously to judge. We have already judged him already, Nor are we ignorant how noble minds Suffer too much through those indignities Which time and vicious persons cast on them. Ourself have ever vowed to esteem As virtue for itself, so fortune, base. Whose first and worth the same be first in place. Nor farther notice already we crave Then thine approvals sovereign warranty. Let it be thy care to make us known to him. Cynthia shall brighten what the world may dim. Exiterate. The first mask, enter cupid, disguised as enteros, Followed by Storge, Aglaea, Euphanta-Stay, and Aferia. Clear pearl of heaven, and not to be farther ambitious in titles, Cynthia, the fame of this illustrious night, among others, Had also drawn these four fair virgins From the palace of their queen perfection. A word which makes no sufficient difference Between hers and mine. To visit thy imperial court, for she, their sovereign, Not finding where to dwell among men Before her return to heaven, Advise 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-honored 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 is here by me they most humbly do, So amongst the rarities thereof, That is the chief, to show whatsoever The world hath excellent, Howsoever remote and various. But your irradiate judgment Will soon discover the secrets of this little crystal world. Themselves, to appear more plainly, Because they know nothing more odious Than 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 sometimes called storage, And as everyone is nearest to himself, So this hand made of reason, A lauable 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 sisiomodulo Alluding to that true measure of one's self, Which, as everyone ought to make, So is it most conspicuous in thy divine example. The second, in green, Is a glia, delectable and pleasant conversation, Whose property it is to move a kindly delight, And sometimes 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 cururam nubilapelo An allegory of Cynthia's light, Which no less clears the sky Than her fair mirth the heart. The third, in the discoloured mantle Spangled all over, Is eufantast, a well-conceited wittiness, And employed in honouring the court With the riches of her pure invention. Her device, upon a petticis Or a mercurial hat, a crescent, The word siklausingini I, inferring that the praise and glory Of wit doth ever increase As doth thy growing moon. The fourth, in white, is afalaya, An impass pure and simple as the soul, Or as an embrace-table, And is therefore called simplicity, Without folds, without plates, Without colour, without counterfeit, And, to speak plainly, plainness itself. Her device is no device, The word under her silver shield, Omnisabest 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 Scythoria, 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. Reenter Arete with Crisis Not without wonder, nor without delight, Mine eyes have viewed, in contemplation's depth, This work of wit, divine and excellent. What shape, what substance, Or what unknown power, in virgin's habit, Crowned with laurel leaves, And olive branches woven in between, On sea-girt rocks, like to a goddess shines. Oh front, oh face, Oh all celestial sure, and more than mortal. Arete, behold, another Cynthia, and another queen, Whose glory, like a lasting plenilune, Seems ignorant of what it is to wane. Nor under heaven an object could be found, More fit to please. Let Cretas make approach. Bounty forbids to Paul our thanks with stay, Or to defer our favour after view. The time of graces, when the cause is new. Low, hear the man, celestial Delia, Who, like a circle bounded in itself, Contains as much as man in fullness may. Low, hear the man, who not of usual earth, But of that nobler and more precious mould, Which febuses self-duth temper is composed, And who, though all were wanting to reward, Yet to himself he would not wanting be, Thy favour's gain is his ambitions most, And labour's best, who, humble in his height, Stands fixed silent in thy glorious sight. With no less pleasure than we have beheld This precious crystal work of rarest wit, Our eye doth read thee, now instiled our Cretas, And 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. Heaven's purest light, whose orb may be eclipse, But not thy praise, divine as Cynthia, How much too narrow for so high a grace, Thine save therein the most unworthy Cretas doth find himself, for ever 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 a retty hath pleased to name, As marks to which my endeavour's steps should bend. Mine, as begoneth thee, in thee must end. The second mask, enter Mercury as a page, Introducing Eucasmos, Epathes, Eutolmos, and Eocolos. Sister of Thebes, 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 Prince's court the state of the 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 they would make themselves gracious to a goddess, Sacrifices were fitter than presence, Or it 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 Eucasmos, 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 Dive Virginie, In which he would express thy deity's principal glory, Which hath ever been virginity. The second, in the Richard Coutrement, And robe of purple, impaled with gold, Is Eupathis, who entertains his mind With a harmless, though 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 fair delicately without gluttony, And, therefore, not without cause, Is universally thought to be of fine humor. His symbol is Dive Optime, An attribute to express thy goodness, In which thou also resemble with Jove thy father. The third, in the blush-colored suit, Is Eutomas, 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 Dive Viragini, To express thy heart-encouraging chase Of savage beasts, Which harbor in woods and wildernesses. The fourth, in watchet tinsel, Is the kind and truly-benefic Oculeus, Who empowered us 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 Dive Maxime, An adjunct to signify thy greatness, Which in heaven, earth, and hell, Is formidable. Music, a dance by the two mass-join During which Cupid and Mercury Retire to the side of the stage. Is not that amorphous the traveller? As though it were not. Do you not see how his legs are in travail with a measure? He did, my master is next. What, will Cupid turn nomenclator and cry them? No faith, but I have a comedy to ward That would not be lost for a kingdom. In good time, for Cupid will prove the comedy. Mercury, I am studying how to match them. How to mismatch them, or harder? They are the nymphs must do it. I shall sport myself with their passions above measure. Those nymphs would be tamed a little indeed, But I fear thou has not arrows for the purpose. Oh yes, here be of all sorts, Flights, rovers, and butt-chaffs. But I can wound with a brandish And never draw a bow for the matter. I cannot but believe it, my invisible archer, And yet me thinks you are tedious. It behoves me to be somewhat circumspect, Mercury, For Cynthia here, the twang of my bow, Shall go near to whip me with a string. Therefore, to prevent that, I thus discharge a brandish upon... It makes no matter which of the couples. Fantastic and amorphous at you. Waves his arrow at them. Will the shaking of a shaft strike them into such fever of affection? As well as the wink of an eye. But I pray thee, hinder me not with thy proddle. Joe forbid I hinder thee. Mary, all that I fear is Cynthia's presence, Which, with a cold of her chastity, Castes such an antiparastasis about the place That no heat of thine will tarry with the patient. It will tarry, the rather, for that antiparastasis will keep it in. I long to see the experiment. Why, their marrow boils already, Or they are all turned eunuchs. Nay, and be so, I'll give over-speaking, And be a spectator only. The first dance ends. Cynthia, my bright soul, Is a right exquisite and splendidious lady. Yet amorphous, I think hath seen more fashions. I'm sure in my own countries, But whether I have or not, What need we gaze on Cynthia, That have herself to admire? Oh, excellent Cynthia! Yet, if Fantastic sat where she does, And has such an attire on her head, For attire can do much, I say no more, but goddesses are goddesses, And Fantastic 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. How now, Cupid? Here's a wonderful change with their brandish. Do you not hear how they don't? What prodigy is this? No word of love, no mention, no motion? Not a word, my little igneous fatue. Not a word. Are my darts enchanted? Is their vigor gone? Is there virtue? What? Cupid turned jealous of himself? Last mercury. Is Cupid angry? Have he not caused when his purpose is so deluded? A rare comedy. It shall be entitled Cupid's. Do not scorn us, Hermes. Kohler and Cupid are too fiery things. I scorn them not. But I see that come to pass, Which I presaged in the beginning. You cannot tell. Perhaps the physic will not work So soon upon some is upon others. It may be the rest or not so resty. Ex-ongu. You know the old adage. As these so are the remainder. I'll try. This is the same shaft, with which I wounded Argyrian. Waves his arrow again. Aye, but let me save you a labour, Cupid. There were certain bottles of water fetched And drung off since that time by these gallants. Jove striped me into the earth. The fountain of self-love? Nay, faint not, Cupid. I remembered it not. Faith! It was ominous to take the name of Enteros upon you. You know not what charm or enchantment lies in the word. You saw I dursed not venture upon any device in our presentiment, But was content to be no other than a simple page. Your arrow's properties, to keep decorum, Cupid, Are suited, it should seem, To the nature of him you personate. Indignity not to be borne. Nay, rather an attempt to avenge for borne. The second dance ends. How might I revenge myself on this insulting mercury? Ah, there's Crete's, his minion. He is not tasted of this water. Waves his arrow at crisis. It shall be so. Is Crete's turn dotered on himself, too? That follows not, Because the venom of your shafts cannot pierce him, Cupid. As though there were one antidote for these and another for him. As though there were not, Or as if one effect might not arise of diverse causes. What say you to Cynthia, Artae, For Olesis, Time, and others there? They are divine. And Critis aspires to be so. Music. They begin the third dance. But that shall not serve him. It is like to do it at this time. But Cupid has grown too covetous That it will not spare one of a multitude. One is more than a multitude. Artae's favour makes any one shot proof against thee, Cupid. I pray thee, light honey bee, Remember thou art not now in Adonis's garden, But in Cynthia's presence, Where thorns lie in garrison about the roses. Soft, Cynthia speaks. 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. And if you judge it any recompense for your fair pains, To have earned 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 fatal doom. And so swole Naiobi, Comparing more than he presumed, Was trophied into stone. But are we therefore judged too extreme? Seems it no crime to enter sacred bowers In hallowed places with impure aspect, Most ludely 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 power's 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 it suffice that we take notice And can revenge of these columnius 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. Honor hath store of spleen, but wanteth gall. Once more we cast the slumber of our thanks On your tain-toil, which here let take an end. And that we not mistake your several worths, Nor you our favor from yourselves remove What makes you not yourselves. Those clouds of mask, particular pains, Particular thanks, do ask. The dancers are mask. How, let me view you. Ha, are we contend? Is there so little awe of our disdain That any, under trust of their disguise, Should mix themselves with others of the court, And without forehead boldly press so far As farther none? How apt is lenity to be abused, Severity to be loathed. And yet, how much more doth the seeming face Of neighbor virtues and their borrowed names Add of lewd boldness to loose venities. Who would have thought that Philoutia Dirst or of 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 connivance Would come to grace themselves with titles not their own? Instead of medicines, have we maladies? And such impostumes as fantasty is Grow in our palace? We must lance these sores, or all will putrify. Nor are these all, for we suspect A farther fraud than this. Take off our veil that shadows may depart And shapes appear, beloved Arete. So, another face of things presents itself Then did of late. What, feathered Cupid masked? And masked like 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. Gelya, like a nymph, that but air-while In male attire did serve a nighties? Cupid came hither to find sport and game Who here to fore hath been too conversant Among our train, but never felt revenge. And Mercury bear Cupid company. Cupid, we must confess, this time of mirth Proclaimed by us, gave opportunity to thy attempts Although no privilege. Tempt us no farther. We cannot endure thy presence longer. Vanish hence away. Execupid. 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 sensorian task And yet to lance these ulcers grown so ripe. Dear Arete and Cretas, to you too we give the charge. Impose what pains you please. The incurable cut-off, the rest reform. Remembering ever what we first decreed Since revels were proclaimed, let now none bleed. How well Diana can distinguish times And sort her censures, keeping to herself Gods, leaving the rest to us. Come, cite them Cretas first, and then proceed. First for Lasha, for she was the first. Then like Galea, in Aglia's name. Thirdly, Fantaste and Mariah next. Main follies all, and of the female crew. Amorphous are you Cosmos, Caterfit. Voluptuous Eden, Tame for you Pathes. Brazen Aniades and Asotis last. Tis two pages Moris and Procieties. And thou, the Traverse Evil Coast's approach, Imposters all, and male deformities. Nay, forward, for I delegate my power, And will that at thy mercy they do stand Whom they so oft so plainly scorned before. Tis virtue which they want, and wanting it, Honor no garment to their backs can fit. Then Cretis, practice thy discretion. Adored Cynthia and Bright Arete. Another might seem fitter for this task, Then Cretis far, but that you judge not so. For I, not to appear vindictive, Or mindful of contempts which I contemmed, 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 unpained, 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 confessed. Do you confess it? We do. And that you merit sharp correction? Yes. Then we, reserving unto Delia's grace, Her father 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 palanode, March to your several homes by Niobe's stone, And offer up two tears of peace 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, And after penance thus performed, You pass in like set order, not as might as did, To wash his gold off into Tagus's 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 feign would seem, And then return offering your service to great Cynthia. This is your sentence. If the goddess pleased to ratify it with her high consent, The scope of wise mirth unto fruit is bent. We do approve thy censure, beloved Cretus, 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, Performed by thee in honor of our name, We vow to girdon 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. Excellent Cynthia and her nymphs, Followed by a rete in Cretus. Amorphous, fantastic, etc. Go off the stage in pairs. Sing the following, holly-node. From Spanish throgs, French faces, Smurfs, irps, and all-affected humours. Good Mercury, fantastic! From secret friends, sweet servants, Loves, dubs, and such fantastic humours. Good Mercury, fantastic! From stabbing of arms, flat dragons, Heaths, whips, and all such swaggering humours. Good Mercury, fantastic! From waving fans, coy glances, Glicks, cringes, and all such simpering humours. Good Mercury, fantastic! From making love via turning, Curtain of puppets and paying for new acquaintance. Good Mercury, fantastic! From perfumed dogs, monkeys, Sparrows, bildos, and periquettos. Good Mercury, fantastic! From wearing bracelets of hair, Shoes ties, gloves, garters, and ring with posies. Good Mercury, fantastic! From targeting, painting, slicking, glazing, And renewing old, rivulet faces. Good Mercury, fantastic! From squiring to tilt yards, Playhouses, pagans, and all such public places. Good Mercury, fantastic! From entertaining one galant to goal another, And making fools of either. Good Mercury, fantastic! From belaying, ladies' favours, Nobleman's countenance, Queening counterfeit employments, Vainglorious taking to them, Other men's services, and all self-loving humours. Good Mercury, fantastic! Mercury and crisis sing. Now each one dry as we deny, And to the well of knowledge haste. We're purged of your melodies, To your may of sweeter waters taste. And with refined voice report The grace of Cynthia and her court. Exempt. The Epilogue. GENTLES! Be it known to you, since I went in, I am turned rhyme-er, 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, Pro rogue's disgrace commends not any thing. Stiffly to stand on this and proudly approve, The play might tax the maker of self-loove. I'll only speak what I have heard him say, By tis good, and if you like it, you may. Ece Rubik Quidam, Palet Stupet, Ocitat Odid, Hock Volo, Nunc Nobis Carmino Nostra Placent. End of Act 5 Part 2 End of Cynthia's Riddles or the Fountain of Self-Love by Ben Johnson.