 Act four of Cynthia's Rebels, or The Fountain of Self-Love by Ben Johnson. This is a LibriVox recording, while LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Scene one. An apartment in the palace. Enter Fantastic, Philatia, Agurion, Moria, and Cupid. I would this water would arrive once, our travelling friends so commended to us. So would I, for he has left all us in travail with expectation of it. Pray, Jove, I never rise from this couch if I ever thirsted more for a thing in my whole life of being a courtier. 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, Sarah. Here, Lady. They do not peel, sweet charge, do they? Yes, a little, Guardian. Oh, it's an eminent good sign. Ever when my lips do so, I am sure to have some delicious good drinker while they're approaching. Merry, and this may be good for us, ladies, for it seems this far fed by this day. My pallet for yours, dear honour. It shall prove most elegant, I warrant you. Oh, I do fancy this gear that's long a coming, with an unmeasurable strain. Pray thee, sit down, Philatia. That ribatu becomes thee singularly. Is it not quaint? Yes, Faith. Me thinks thy servant Heedon is nothing so obsequious to thee as he was want to be. I know not how, he has grown out of his garb alate, he's warped. Intrunas, and so me thinks too. He is much converted. Tut, let him be what he will. It is an animal I dream not of. This tyre, me thinks, makes me look very ingeniously, quick, and spirited. I should be some Laura, or some Delia, me thinks. As I am wise, for honours, that title she gave him, to be her ambition, spoiled him. Before he was the most propitious and observant young novice. No, no, you are the whole heaven awry, guardian. Tis the swaggering coat horse Aniades draws with him there, has been the diverter of him. 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 them all? Feather-wise than I would a feather, or my shuttlecock, to make sport with now and then. 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, amorphous. Oh, thigh 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 rearward train of a fashion. I should have judgement in a feature, sweet beauties. A body would think so at these years. And I prefer another now, far before him, a million at least. Who might that be, guardian? Mary, fair charge, Aniades. Aniades? You talk it of a tomb, Philosia. There's one speaks in a key, like the opening of some justice's gate, or a post-boy's horn, as if his voice feared on arrest for some ill words it should give, and were lost to come forth. Aye, and he has a very imperfect face. Like a sea-monster that were to ravish Andromeda from the rock. His hands too great, too, by at least a straw's breath. Nay, he has a worse fault than that, too. A long heel? 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. Out upon him. Turn to another of the pictures for love's sake. What says our Gurion? Whom does she commend for the rest? Cupid, aside. I hope I have instructed her sufficiently for an answer. Troth, I made the motion to her ladyship for one to-day, in the presence. But it appeared she was other ways furnished before, as she would none. Who is that, our Gurion? Marry the poor plain gentleman in the black there. Who, Cretys? Aye, aye, he. A fellow that nobody so much as looked upon or regarded. And she would have had me done him particular grays. That was a true trick of yourself, Moria, to persuade our Gurion to affect the scholar. Troth, but she shall be no chooser for me. In good faith I like the citizen's son there, as Sotus. Me things none of them all come near him. Not Heedon? Heedon, ha-ha, in Troth, no. Heedon's a pretty slight quartier, and he wears his clothes well, and sometimes in fashion. Marry his face is body indifferent, and he has no such excellent body. No, the other is the most delicate youth. A sweet face, the straight body, a well proportioned leg and foot, a white hand, a tender voice. How now, our Gurion? Oh, 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. And then his several colors he wears, wherein he flourisheth changeably every day. Oh, but his short hair, and his narrow eyes. Why, she dotes more palpably upon him than ever his father did upon her. Believe me, the young gentleman deserves it. If she could dot more, it were not a miss. He is an exceeding proper youth, and would have made a most neat barber surgeon if he had been put to it in time. Say you so. Me thinks he looks like a tailor already. Eh, that had said on one of his customer's suits. His face is like a squeezed orange, or... Well, ladies, just on. The best of you both would be glad of such a servant. I'll be sworn, would they? There he be a little shame-faced. Shame-faced, Moria, out upon him. Your shame-faced servant is your only goal. Go to beauties, make much of time and place and occasion, and opportunity, and favorites, 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 raveler myself, and though I speak it, as mine own trumpet, I was then esteemed. Very march, bun of the court, I warrant you. And all the galants came about you like flies, did they not? Go to, they did somewhat. That's no matter now. Nay, good Moria, be not angry. Put case that we for now had the grant from Juno to wish ourselves into what happier state we could. What would you wish to be, Moria? 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 aris, what upon the stairs, what in the garden, what in the nymph's chamber, what by barge, and what by coach. I would tell you which courtier was scabbed, and which not. Which lady had her own face to lie with her at 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 in which way? I would tell you which madam loved a moncier, which a player, which a page. Who settled her husband, who with her friend, who with her gentleman usher, who with her horsekeeper, who with her monkey, and who with all? Yes, and who jigged the coach, too. Fine, you tell all, Moria. If I should wish now, it would be to have your tongue out. But what says Volosha? Who should she be? Truth. 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 a 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, Fantast? Faith, I cannot readily tell you what, but me thinks 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 dairymaid, then a shepherd's lass, then an empress again, or the queen of fairies, and thus I would prove the vicissitudes in world pleasures about again and again. As I were a shepherdess, I would be piped and sung too. As a dairy wench, I would dance at maples, 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 couriers. As a great lady, lie a bed, and have couriers visit me. As a duchess, I would keep my state. And as an empress, I would do anything. And in all these shapes, I would ever be followed with the affections of all that see me. Mary, 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 it, I would, for one year, wish myself one woman. But the richest, fairest, and delicatest in a kingdom, the very center 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, in 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 galant express himself in dumb gaze, another with sighing and rubbing his fingers, a third with play-ins and pitiful verses, a fourth with stabbing himself, and drinking healths, or writing languishing letters in his blood, a fifth in coloured ribbons and good clothes, with this lord to smile, and that lord to court, and other lord to dote, and one lord to hang himself, and then I to have a book 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 Hayden. Enter Hayden, and Aedes, and Mercury, who retires with Cupid to the back of the stage, where they converse together. Save your sweet and clear beauties, by the spirit that moves in me, you are all most pleasingly bestowed ladies, only I can take it from no good omen to find mine on a so dejected. I need not fear, sir, I did of purpose humble myself against your coming, to decline the pride of my ambition. Fair honour, ambition is not stoop, but if it be your sweet pleasure I shall lose that title, I will, as I am Hayden, apply myself to your bounties. That were the next way to distitle myself of honour. Oh, no, rather be still ambitious, I pray you. I will be anything that you please, whilst it pleases you to be yourself, lady. Sweet, fantastic, dear Moria, most beautiful Argyrian. Farewell, Hedon. And I, dey, stay with ago you. Slight, what should I do here, and you engross them all for your own use? It is time for me to seek out. I engross them, away mischief, this is one of your extravagant jests now, because I began to salute them by their names. Faith, you might have spared us, madam Prudence, the guardian there, though you had more covetously aimed at the rest. Sartre, take them all, man, what speak you to me of aiming or covetous? I say you so. Nay, then, have at them. Ladies, here's one has distinguished you by your names already. It shall only become me to ask how you do. Also, was this the design you travailed with? Who answers the brazen head? It spoke to somebody. Lady Wisdom, do you interpret for these puppets? In truth and sadness, honours, you are in great offence for this. Oh, the gentleman, I'll undertake with him, is a man of fair living, and able to maintain a lady and her two coaches a day, besides pages, monkeys and paraketos, with such attendance as she shall think meet for her turn, and therefore there is more respect or quarrel, how so well you seem to connive. Hark you, sir, let me discourse syllable with you. These ladies are not of that close and open behaviour as happily you may suspend. Their carriage is well known to be such as it should be, both gentle and extraordinary. Oh, here comes the other pair. That was your father's love, the nymph Arperium. I would have you direct all your courtship thither, if you could but endear yourself to her affection. You were internally and gallanted. In truth, sir, pray Phoebus I prove favoursome in her fair eyes. All divine mixture, an increase of beauty to this bright bevy of ladies, and to the male courtiers, complement and courtasy. In the behalf of the males, I gratify you amorphous. And I of the females. So, simply returned, I do veil to both your thanks, and kiss them, but primarily to yours most ingenious, acute and polite lady. What's my life? How he does all to bequalify her? Ingenious, acute and polite, as if there was not others in place as ingenious, acute and polite as she. Yes, but you must know, lady, may cannot speak out of a dictionary method. Sit down, sweet amorphous. When will this water come, thank you? It cannot now be long, fair lady. Now observe, Mercury. How most ambiguous beauty! Love you that I will by this handkerchief. Slid! He draws his oaths out of his pocket. But will you be constant? Constant, madam! I will not say for constantness, but by this purse which I would be loath to swear by, unless it were embroidered, I protest, more than most, fair lady. You are the only absolute and unparalleled creature I do adore and admire, and respect and reverence in this court, quarter of the world or kingdom. Myth thinks you are melancholy. Does your heart speak all this? Say you. Oh, he is groping for another oath. Now, by this watch, I marl how forward the day is. I do unfainingly avow myself, slight. Tis deeper than I took it, past five, yours entirely addicted, madam. I require no more dearest asotus. Henceforth let me call you mine, and in remembrance of me, vouchsave to wear this chain and this diamond. Oh, lord sweet lady! There are new oaths for him. What disarmies taste no alteration in all this? Yes, thou hast struck a gory, and anamard on all sodas, me thinks. Alas, no. I am nobody. I... I can do nothing in this disguise. But thou hast not wounded any of the rest, Cupid? Not yet. It is enough that I have begun so prosperously. Nay, these are nothing to the gems I will hourly bestow upon thee. Be but faithful and kind to me, and I will lay thee with my richest bounties. Behold here my bracelets from mine arms. Not so good, lady, by this diamond. Take them. Wear them. My jewels. Chain of pearl pendants. All I have. Nay, then, by this pearl you make me a wanton. Shall she not answer for this? To maintain him thus since wearing? Oh, no. There is a way to wean him from this. The gentleman may be reclaimed. Aye, if you had the airing of his apparel, cause, I think. Loving? To a pity an eye should be living else, believe me. Save you, sir. Save you, sweet lady. Save you, Miss Sharonides. Save you, dear madam. Just now know him that saluted thee, Hedon? No. Some idle fungoso that have got above the cupboard since yesterday. Slut! 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. A most right-handed and auspicious encounter. Confine yourself to your fortunes. For sports sake, let's have some riddles or purposes, ho! No, Faith. Your prophecies are best, Tother Arsdale. Prophecies? We cannot all sit in at him. We shall make a confusion. No, what calls you that we had in the forenoon? Substantives and adjectives, is it not, Hedon? Aye, that. Who begins? I have thought. Speak your adjectives, sirs. But do not you change them? Not I. Who says? Odoriferous. Popular. Humble. White livid. Barbarous. Fyeth agorical. Yours, senor. What must I do, sir? Give forth your adjective with the rest. Is prosperous, good, fair, sweet, well? Anything that has not been spoken. Yes, sir. Well spoken shall be mine. What have you all done? Hi. Hi. Hi. Then the substantive is breaches. Why Oderiferous breaches, Guardian? Oderiferous, because Oderiferous. That which contains most variety of savour and smell we say is most Oderiferous. Now breaches, I presume, are instant to that variety, and therefore Oderiferous breaches. Well we must take it, howsoever. Who's next, Velosha? Popular. Why popular breaches? Mary. That is, when they are not content to be generally noted in court, but will press forth on common stages and broker stoles to the public view of the world. Good. Why humble breaches, Argyrian? Humble, because they used to be set upon. Besides, if you tie them not up, their property is to fall down about your heels. She has worn the breaches, it seems, which have done so. But why white-livered? Why, are not their linings white? Besides, when they come in swaggering company, and will pocket up anything, may they not properly be said to be white-livered? Oh yes, we must not deny it. And why barbarous heathen? Barbarous, because commonly when you have worn your breaches sufficiently you give them to your barba. That's good, but how vifagorical? Aye, amorphous, why Pythagorical breaches? Oh, most kindly of all, it is a conceit of that fortune I am bold to hug my brain for. How is it exquisite, amorphous? Oh, I am rapt with it, to so fit, so proper, so happy. Nay, do not wreck us thus. Never truly relish myself before. Give me your ears. Breaches vifagorical, by reason of their trans-migration into several shapes. Most rare and sweet troth, marry this young gentleman for his well-spoken. Aye, why well-spoken breaches? Well-spoken, merry well-spoken, because whatsoever they speak is well-taken, and whatsoever is well-taken is well-spoken. Excellent, believe me. Not so, ladies, neither. But why breaches now? Breaches, quasi-bear riches, when a gallant man bears all his riches in his breaches. Most fortunately, etymologized. Nay, we have another sport for this, of a thing done, and who did it, et cetera. Aye, good fun task, let's have that. Distribute to places. Why, I imagine, a thing done, he didn't thinks, who did it, Moria, with what it was done, Aniades, where it was done, Agerian, when it was done, Amorphous, for what cause was it done, Eufolasha, what followed upon the doing of it, and this gentleman, who would have done it better. What is it conceived about? Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes. Then speak you, sir, who would have done it better? How does it begin at me? Yes, sir, this play is called The Crab, it goes backward. May I not name myself? If you please, sir, and dare abide the venture of it. That I would have done it better, whatever it is. No doubt on it, sir, a good confidence, what followed upon the act, Eufolasha? A few heat drops, and a month's mirth. For what cause, Amorphous? For the delight of ladies. When, Agerian? Last progress. Where, Aniades? Why, in a pair of pain-slops. With what, Moria? With a gloster. Who, Heedon? A traveller. Then the thing done was, an oration was made, Rehearsed, an oration was made. By a traveller? With a gloster. In a pair of pain-slops. Last progress. For the delight of ladies. A few heat drops, and a month's mirth followed. And this silent gentleman would have done it better. That was not so good now. In good faith these unhappy pages would be whipped for staying thus. Be sure my hand and my heart else. I do wonder at their protraction. Pravenous my whore have not discovered herself to the rascally boys, and that be the cause of their stay. I must suit myself with another page. This idle prescities will never be brought to wait well. Sir, I have a kinsman I could willingly wish to your service, if you will deign to accept of him. And I shall be glad, most sweet lady, to embrace him. Where is he? I can vouch him, sir, but I would be loath to make you turn away your other page. You shall not, most sufficient lady. I will keep both. After you let's go see him. Ah! Wither goes my love. I'll return presently. I go but to see a page with this lady. Exultesotus and Moria. As sure as fate, Tisso. She has opened all. A pox of all cockatrices. Damn me! If she have played loose with me, I'll cut her throat within a hare's breath, so it may be healed again. What! Is he jealous of his hermaphrodite? Oh, I this will be excellent sport. Fantast, or Gourion, what you are suddenly struck me thinks. For love's sake, let's have some music till they come, ambition, reach the lyre, I pray you. Anything to which my honour shall direct me. Come, amorphous, cheer up, fantast. 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. Oh, let me kiss thy fair knees. Beautyous ears attend it. Will you have the kiss, honour? Aye, good ambition. Hidden sins. Oh, that joy so soon should waste or so sweet a bliss as a kiss might not forever last. So sugared, so melting, so soft, so delicious, the dew that lies on roses, when the mourn herself discloses is not so precious. Oh, rather than I would its mother, would I to taste such another, it should be my wishing that I might die with kissing. I made this ditty and the note to it upon a kiss that my honour gave me. How like you it, sir! A pretty ear, in general. I like it well. But in particular, your long, die-note did aride, did me most, but it was somewhat too long. I can't show one almost of the same nature, but much before it, and not so long in a composition of my own. I think I have both the note and the ditty about me. Pray you, sir, see. 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 Aragon, the dukes of Savoy, Florence, Orleans, Bourbon, Brunswick, the land-grave, Count Palatine, all which had severly 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 Annabelle, knees to the empress and sister to the king of Aragon, 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 me, with my name in her lips, she expired. As that, I most morningly 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 never yet sojourned or rested in that place or part of the world, where some high-born admirable fair feature died not for my love. Oh, the sweet power of travel! Are you guilty of this, Cupid? No, Mercury, and that his page cause a nose, if he were here present to be sworn. But how doth this draw on the ditty, sir? Oh, she is too quick with him. He hath not devised that yet. Mary, some hour before she departed, she bequeathed to me this glove, which golden lacusty the emperor himself took care to send after me, and six coaches, covered all with black velvet, tended 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 said it to my most affected instrument, the lira. Thou more than most sweet glove unto my more sweet love, so for me to store with kisses this empty lodging that now misses thy pure rosy hand, that wear thee, whether then the kid that bears thee thou art soft, but that was softer, Cupid's self hath kissed it other. Then ere he did his mother's doves, supposing her the queen of loves that was thine mistress, best of gloves. Blasphemy, blasphemy, Cupid. I'll revenge at thy monathomies. Good amorphous, let's hear its song. Be care not to admit that, since it pleadest, pedooth, dear, to request it. Yes, sir. Nay, play it, I pray you. You do well. You do well. He sings it. How like you it, sir. Very well, Indroth. But very well. Oh, you're a mere mammoth-rept in judgment, then. Why do you 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? Visas, upon the word best, there, you see how I do enter with an odd minimum, and drive it through the brief. Which no intelligent musician, I know, but will affirm to be very rare, extraordinary, and pleasing. And yet not fit to lament the death of a lady for all this. Tud, here be they will swallow anything. Pray you, let me have a copy of it, amorphous. And me too. Indroth, I liked it exceedingly. I've denied it to princes. Nevertheless to you. The true female twins of perfection. I am one to depart with all. I hope I should have my honest copy in. You are ambitious in that, Hedon. Reenter, innades. How now, innades? What is it, hath conjured, up this distemperature in the circle of your face? Why, what have you to do? Our pox upon your filthy, travelling face? Hold your tongue. Nay, dost here, mischief. O way, musk-cat! I say to thee thou art rude, debocked, impudent, coarse, unpolished, a frappler, and base. Heart of my father, what a strange alteration, as half a year's haunting of ordinaries, wrought in this fellow, that it came with a tough tarp at a jagged town for the other day, and a pair of penniless hoes, and now here is turned Hercules, he wants but a club. Sir, you with the pencil on your chin? I will garter my hoes with your guts, and that shall be all. Exits. Slid! What rare fireworks be here! Flash, flash! What is the matter, Hedon, can you tell? Nothing, but that he lacks crowns, and things will lend him some to be friends. Reenter, asotus and Moria, with Morus. 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. Yay, sir. Good aunt, now. Let him have it. He will use me the better. If you love me, do, good aunt. Well, tell him he shall have it. Master, you shall have it, she says. Shall I thank her, good page? What? Has he entertained the fool? Aye, he'll wait close, you shall see. Though the beggar hang off a while. Aunt, my master thanks you. Call him hither. Yes, master. Yes, in variety, 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. Call him hither, it is good groping such a goal. Master Sotus, Master Sotus. For love's sake, let me go. You see, I am called to the ladys. Will thou forsake me, then? Odd, sir. What would you have me do? Come hither, Master Sotus. I do ensure your ladyships. He is a gentleman of a very worthy dessert, and of the most bountiful nature. You must show and insinuate yourself responsible, and equivalent now to my commandment. Good honours grace him. I protest more than most fair ladies. I do wish all variety of divine pleasures, joy, sport, sweet music, rich fare, brave attire, soft beds, and silken thoughts attend these fair beauties. Would it please your ladyship to wear this chain of pearl and this diamond for my sake? And you, madam, this jewel in pendants? Oh, we know not how to deserve these bounties out of so slight merit, Sotus. No, in faith, but there is my glove for a favour. And soon after the rebels I will be still a garter on you. Oh, lords, ladies, it is more grace than ever I could have hoped, 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, rebuttules, duels, or carcannets, anything whatsoever, if you vouch safe to accept. And for it they will help you to shoe ties and devices. I cannot utter myself, dear beauties, but you can conceive. Sir, we will acknowledge your service, doubt not. Henceforth you shall be no more Sotus to us, but our gold-finch, and we your cages. Oh, Venus! Madams, how shall I deserve this? If I were but made acquainted with Heedon now, I'll try— To agorium. Pray you away. How he prays money to go away from him. Amorphous a word with you. Here's a watch I would bestow upon you. Pray you make me known to that gallant. That I will, sir. Monshire Heedon, I must entreat you to exchange knowledge with this gentleman. Tis a thing of next to the water we expect I thirst after, sir. Good Monsieur Sotus. Good Monsieur Heedon! I would be glad to be loved of men of your rank and spirit I protest. Pleasure to accept this pair of bracelets, sir. They are not worth the bestowing. Oh, Hercules, how the gentleman purchases. This must need bring agorian to a consumption. Sir, I shall never stand in the merit of such a bounty, I fear. Oh, Venus, sir, your acquaintance shall be sufficient, and if at any time you need my bill or my bond— Swones. Hope the lady there. God's dare, agorian madame, how do you? See. Have her forth and give her air. I come again straight, ladies. Exum to Sotus, Morus, and Agorium. Well, I doubt all the physic he has will scarce recover her. She's too far spent. Re-enter Anaitis with Gelia, Prosetis, and Chaz with the bottles. Oh, here's the water come. Fetch glasses, Paige. Harder 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 poxed here I follow you any longer. Nay, good punk, sweet rascal, damn me, if I am jealous now. That's true, indeed. Pray let's go. What's the matter there? Slighty 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 it possible, and with all calls me at his pleasure I know not how many cockatrices and things. In truth and sadness, there are no good epitaphs in Aides to bestow upon any gentle woman. And I'll ensure you, if I'd known you would have dealt thus with my daughter, she should never have fancied you so deeply as she has done. Go to. Why do you hear, mother Mariah? Heart. Nay, I pray you, sir, do not swear. Swear? Why? Splud, I have sworn for now, I hope. Both you and your daughter mistake me. I have not honoured Oriti. 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 what I say. Nay, indeed I must confess she is apt to miss Prisian. But I must have you leave it, Minion. Re-enter Asotus. How now, Asotus? How does the lady? Faith ill! I have left my page with her at her lodging. Oh, here is the rarest water that ever was dasted. Fill him some. What? Has my master a new page? Yes, a kinsman of the Lady Moria's. You must wait better now, or you are cashiered, both sayities. Come, gallants, you must pardon my foolish humour. When I am angry that anything crosses me, I grow impatient straight. Here, I drink to you. Oh, that we had five or six bottles more of this liquor. Now I commend your judgment, amorphous. Knocking within. Who's that knocks? Look, Page. Exit, cause. I'm most delicious. A little of this would make Algirian well. Oh, no, give her no cold drink by any means. Splut, this water is the spirit of wine. I'll be hanged else. Reenter, cause, with Arete. Here's the Lady Arete, madam. What? At your beaver, gallants? Will it please your ladyship to drink? Tis of the new fountain water. Not I, Moria. I thank you, gallants. You are, for this night, free to your peculiar delights. Cynthia will have no spots. When she is pleased to come forth, you shall have knowledge. In the meantime, I could wish you did provide for solemn revels, and some unlooked-for device of wit, to entertain her. Against, she should well shave to grace your pastimes with her presence. What say you to a mask? Nothing better, if the project were new and rare. Why, I'll send for Cretis, and have his advice. Be you ready in your endeavours. He shall discharge you of the inventive part. But will not your ladyship stay? Not now, fantastic. Exit. Let her go, I pray you, good lady sobriety. I am glad we are rid of her. What a set face that gentlewoman has, as she were still going to a sacrifice. Oh, she is the extraction of a dozen of Puritans for a look. Of all nymphs in the court, I cannot away with her, it is the coarsest thing. I wonder how Cynthia can affect her so above to rest. Hereby they are every way as fair as she, and a thought fairer, I throw. I, and as ingenious and conceited as she. I, and as politic as she, for all she set such a forehead on't. What I were dead, if I would change to be Cynthia. Or I. Or I. And there is Romanian Cretis. Why his advice? More than amorphous. Have I not invention for him? Learning to better that invention above him. And infainted with pleasant travel. 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 talked 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 Oredy, and I love myself for nothing else. I wonder the fellow does not hang himself, being thus scorned and condemned of us that are held the most accomplished society of gullums. By yourself none else? I protest if I had no music in me, no courtship, that I were not a reveler and could dance, or had not these excellent qualities as 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. This is excellent. Well, I must alter all this soon. Looked you do, Cupid. The bottles have wrought, it seems. Oh, I am sorry the revels are crossed. I should have tickled it soon, I did never appear till then. Still, I am the neatliest maid gallant to the company, and have the best presence, and my dancing. Well, I know what our usher said to me last time I was at the school. Would I might have led Philosha in the measures, and it had been the God's will. I am most worthy, I am sure. Re-enter, Morris. 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. Peace, my most esteemed page! Yes. What luck is this that our revels are dashed! Now was I beginning to glister in the very highway of preferment, and since I had but seen me dance astray in all due but one trick, I had been kept in court. I should never have needed to look towards my friends again. Contain yourself. You were a fortune, young man, if you knew your own good, which I have now projected, and will presently multiply upon you. B-U-T's and Valar's, your vouchsafed applause to emotion. The humorous Cynthia hath, for this night, withdraw the light of your delight. Tis true, amorphous. What may we do to redeem it? Redeem that we cannot, but to create a new flame is in our power. Here's a gentleman, my scholar whom, for some private reasons, me especially moving. I'm covetous to gratify with title of Master in the Nolan 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 forechoice and principal weapons thereof. The bearer cost, the better regard, the solemn address, and the perfect close. What say you? Well, let us then take our time by the forehead. I will instantly have bills drawn, and advance in every angle of the court. Sir, betray not your too much joy. An aide, we must mix this gentleman with you in acquaintance, Muncher Asotis. I am easily entreated to grace any of your friends, amorphous. Sir, it is friendship likewise grace you, sir. Nay, I begin to know myself now. Oh, you must continue your bounties. Must I? Why, I'll give him this ruby on my finger. Do here, 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 posy is of my own device. Let this blush for me, sir. So it must for me too, for I am not ashamed to take it. Sweet man! By my truth, master, I love you. Will you love me too for my aunt's sake? I'll wait well. You shall see. I'll still be here. What I might never stir. But you are a fine man in these clothes, master. Shall I have them, when you have done with them? As for that, Boris, thou shalt see more hereafter. In the meantime, 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. Excellent all but the pages. I wonder this gentleman should affect to keep a fool. He thinks he makes bored enough with himself. Well, prescienties, toward good you did wait closer. I'll look to it. It is time. The rebels would have been most sumptuous to-night, if they had gone forward. Exit. They must need, when all the choices singularities of the court were up in Pantoflas, narrow one of them, but was able to make a whole show of itself. Asotus, within. Sera, a torch, a torch. Oh, what a call is there. I will have a kanzanet made, with nothing in it but Sera. And the burden shall be. I come. Exit. I'll now, Cupid. How do you like this change? Faith, the thread of my device is cracked. Let me go to sleep till the reveling music awake me. 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 applauded against these prizers, for which I must presently find alchritis, and with his assistance pursue it to a high strain of laughter, or mercury have lost of his metal. Exit. End of Act 4. Act 5, Part 1, 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 1. The Same. Enter Mercury and Crisis. It is resolved on, Critis. You must do it. The grace divine as mercury hath done me, in this vouch-safe discovery of himself, binds my observance in the utmost term of satisfaction to his godly will. Though I profess without the affection of an enforced informed austerity, I could be willing to enjoy no place with so unequal natures. 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 screams, bearing no season much less salt of goodness. It is our purpose, Critis, to correct and punish with our laughter this night's sport, which our court-doers so heartily intend, and by that worthy scorn to make them know how far beneath the dignity of man their serious and most practice actions are. I, but though Mercury can warrant out his undertakings, and make all things good, out of the powers of his divinity, the offense will be returned with weight on me, that, Emma, creature so despised and poor, when the whole court shall take itself abused by our ironical confederacy. You are deceived! The better race in court, that will have the true nobility called virtue, or print 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 gobs, would bring the name of Courtier in contempt, did it not live unblemished in some few, whom Equal Jove hath loved, and Phoebus formed of better metal, and in better mould. Well, since my leader on is Mercury, I shall not fear to follow him. If I fall, my proper virtue shall be my relief, that followed such a cause, and such a chief. Excellent. Seen two, another room in the same. Enter Asotus and Amorphus. No more, if you love me, good master, you are incompatible to live with all. Send me for the ladies. Nay, but intend me. Fear me not, I warrant you, sir. Render not yourself a refactory on the sudden. I can allow, well, you should repute highly, hurtily, 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 turned dutifully back upon your teacher. Nay, good sir, leave it to me. Trust me with trusting all the points of this action, I pray. Still, I hope we shall find wit to perform the science as well as another. I confess you to be of an apt and docible humour. Yet there are certain punctilios, or, as I may more nakedly insinuate them, certain intrinsic strokes and words, to which your activity is not yet amounted, as your gentle door in colours. For supposition, your mistress appears here in prize, ribboned with green and yellow, now it is the part of every obsequious servant. To be sure, do have daily about him a copy and variety of colours, to be presently answerable to any hourly or half-hourly change in his mistress's revolution. I know it, sir. Give leave, I pray you, which, if your antagonist or a player against you shall ignorantly be without, and yourself can produce, you give him the door. Or if you can possess your opposite, that the green your mistress wears is her rejoicing or exultation in a service, the yellow suspicion of his truth, from her height of affection, and that he, greenly conduulous, 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 be not so, nor so affected, you give him the door. Do not I know it, sir? Nay, good, so not above your understanding. There is yet a third door in colours. I know it, too. I know it. Do you know it, too? What is it? Make good your knowledge. Why, it is no matter for that. Do it, on paying of the door. Why, what is to say you? Lo, you have given yourself the door, but I will memorand straight to you the third door, which is not, as to the two former doors, indictative, but deliberate, as how, as thus. The arrival is, with a jiffle and serious care, lying in his bed, meditating, how to observe his mistress, dispatcheth his likely 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, befall as a fallacy, comes out accortured to his believed instructions, your mistress smiles, and you give him the door. Why, so I told you, sir, I knew it. Told me, it is a strange outrequendence, your humour too much, redoundeth. Why, sir, what, you think you know more? I know that a cook may, as soon, and properly be said, smell well, as you do be wise. I know these are most clear and clean strokes. But then you have your passages, and him brokates, in courtship, as the bitter bob and wit, the reverse in face, or rye 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 ear with the squisper. Here comes your baboon, disgrace him, and with all stepping off, fall to his bosom. And returning 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 stroke's bill, which makes up your wits bob most bitter. Nay, for heaven's sake, teach me no more. I know all is 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 his strange. Would to the law the ladies would come once. Enter Morphides. Señor, the gallants and the ladies are at hand. Are you ready, sir? 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 master's 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's my brother that plays the prizes. Your brother? Citizen, within. I, her brother, sir, and we must come in. Taylor, within. Why, what are you? Citizen, within. I am her husband, sir. Taylor, within. Then thrust forward your head. What tumult is there? Who's there? Bear back there. Stand from the door. Enter. None but the ladies, and their hangbys. Enter Fantaste, Velatia, Agourion, Moria, Hayden, and Anaites. Introducing two ladies. Welcome, beauties, and your kind shadows. This country, lady, my friend, good senior, amorphous. And my cockatrice here. She's welcome. The citizen and his wife pages, etc., appear at the door. Knock those same pages there, and good man cockscomb the citizen. Who would you speak with all? My brother. With whom? Your brother? Who is your brother? Mustasotis. Master Asotis, is he your brother? He is taken up with great persons. He is not to know you tonight. Re-enter Asotis, hastily. Oh, Jove, master. And there come a citizen-gentlewoman in my name. Let her have entrance, I pray you. It is my sister. Brother. Citizen, thrusting in. Brother, Master Asotis. Who's there? Tisai, brother. God's me there. She is good master intruder. Make place. Bear back there. Enter citizen's wife. Knock that simple fellow there. Nay, good sir. It is my husband. The simpler fellow he. Away. Back with your head, sir. Pushes the citizen back. Brother, you must pardon your non-entry. Husbands are not allowed 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, non. Exit. Your priser is not ready, amorphous. Every hand your places. He shall be soon, and at all points. Is there anybody come to answer him? Shall we have any sport? Sport of importance. Howsoever, give me the gloves. Gloves. Why gloves, senor? What's the ceremony? Amorphous. Distributing gloves. Beside their received fitness. At all prices. They are here properly accommodate to the nuke-teals of my scholars. Hey, dear. Into the lady courtship. Please, your apparel, your hands. Madam Fan Taste. Madam Filiotia. Garden. Signor Heedon. Signor Annades. Gentlemen all. Ladies. Thanks for the good amorphous. Thanks, good amorphous. Thanks, good amorphous. I will now call forth my provost and present him. Exit. Heart. Why should not we be masters as well as he? That's true, and play our masters' prizes as well as the other. In sadness. For using your court weapons, me thinks you may. 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. Truth, and so we may, if we handle them well. I indeed. For sooth, madam, if to earn the city we would think foul scorn, but we would, for sooth. Pray you, what should we call your name? My name is Downfall. You could have missed just Downfall. I am sorry your husband could not get in. It is no matter for him, sir. No, no, she has the more liberty for herself. A flourish. Peace, peace, they come. Re-enter amorphous, introducing asotis in a full-dress suit. So keep up your rough. The tincture of your neck is not also pure. But it will ask it. Maintain your spring upright, your cloak 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 reveler to the cloth of tissue and bodkin, that we, Ulysses, Polytropus, amorphous, master of the noble and subtile science of courtship, do give leave and license to our provost, a cholestus polypragmon asotis, to play his master's prize against all masters whatsoever in this subtile mystery, at these four, the choice in most cunning weapons of court compliment. Viz. The barricost, the better regard, the solemn address, and the perfect clothes. These are therefore to give notice to all comers that he, the said a cholestus polypragmon asotis, is here present by the help of his Mercer, Taylor, 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 barricost, two wall eyes, and a face forced, for the better regard, face favorably simpering, with a fan waving, for the solemn address, two lips waging, and never a wise word, for the perfect clothes, a ring by the hand and a banquet in a corner, and Phobos saves Cynthia, a pierith, no man yet to answer the prize, no voice, music, give them their summons. Music. The solemnity of this is excellent. Silence! All I perceive her name is terror, and keepeth them back. The Faithmaster, let's go, nobody comes. Victis, vicar, victim, victi, victe, victi, let's be retrograde. Stay. That word dispunked to the ladies. Rather, our self shall be your encounter. Take up your state to the wall, and lady. Lady Moria, to the state. We may implore you to stand forth, as first term are bound to our courtship. For heaven dwells so rarely. Sound to charge. A charge. A poxant. Your vulgar will count this fabulous and impudent now. By that candle they'll never concede it. They act their accosts severally to Moria. Excellent well, admirable. Peace. Most fashionably believe it. Oh, he is a well-spoken gentleman. Now the other. Very good. For a scholar, Anna. Oh, tis too Dutch. He reels too much. A flourish. This weapon is done. No, we have our two bouts at every weapon. Expect. Critesies within. Where be these gallants and their brave prizes here? Who's there? Bear back. Keep the door. Enter Critesies, introducing Mercury fantastically dressed. What are you, sir? By your license, Grandmaster. To Mercury. Come forward, sir. Heart, who let that rag there amongst us? Put him out, an impacunious creature. Out with him. Come, sir. You must be retrograde. Soft, sir. I am a truckman, and do flourish before this mishore, or French-behaved gentleman here, who has drawn hither by report of your chartles, advanced in court to prove his fortune with your priser. So he may have fair play shown him, and the liberty to choose his stickler. Is he a master? That, sir, he has to show here, and confirmed under the hands of the most skillful and cunning complementaries alive. Please, you read, sir. Give him a certificate. What shall we do? Death. Disgrace this fellow in the black stuff, whatever you do. Why, but he comes with a stranger. That's no matter. He is our own conchaman. Aye, and he is a scholar besides. You may disgrace him here with authority. Well, see these first. Now shall I be observed by your scholar till I sweat again. I would to jove it were over. Crities to Mercury. Sir, this is the weight 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 bread courtly, yet a most particular man of goodly havings, well-fashioned behavior, and of as hardened and excellent a bark, as the most naturally qualified amongst them, informed, reformed, and transformed from his original city-sism. By this elixir, or mere magazine a 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 auras. This takes down from the horse. This protest by this light. This wears by that candle. This delighteth. This adored. Yet all but three men. Then for your ladies, the most proud witty creatures, 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, to extomb in them there is this reciproc commerce, their beauties maintain their painters, and their painters their beauties. Sir, you have plaid the painting yourself, and lime them to the life. I desire to deserve before them. Amorphous, returning the certificate. Here, this is authentic. We must resolve to entertain the Muncher, how shall ever be neglected. Come, let's all go together and salute him. Content, and not look on the other. Well devised, and the most punishing disgrace. On. Muncher. We must not so much betray ourselves to discordship, as to suffer you to be longer unsalted. Please, you to use this state ordained for the opponent, in which nature, without envy, we receive you. And embrace you. And commend us to you, sir. Believe it, he is a man of excellent silence. He keeps all his wit for action. This hath discontinenced our scholaris, most richly. Out of all emphasis, the Muncher sees you regard him not. Hold on, make it known how bitter a thing it is not to be looked on in court. Slut, will he call him to me yet? Does not Muncher perceive our disgrace? Heart, he is a fool icy. We have done ourselves wrong to grace him. Slight, what an ass was I to embrace him. Illustrious and fearful judges. Turn away, turn away. 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. Answer not him, but the stranger. We will not believe him. I will demand him myself. Oh, dreadful disgrace, if a man were so foolish to feel it. Is it your suit, Muncher, to see some prelude of my scholar? Now, sure the Muncher wants language. And take upon him to be one of the accomplished. Slut, that's a good jest. Would we could take him with that nullity? Slut, the carp has no tongue. Senor, in courtship, you are to bid your abetters for bear, and satisfy the mature's request. 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 Asotis. Begin to me at the bearer cost. A charge. Now, for the honour of my discipline. Senor amorphous, reflect, reflect. What means he by that mild wave? He is in some distaste of your fellow disciple. Senor, 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. You come not to give us the scorn, Monshir. Nor to be frightened with a face, Senor. I have seen the lions. You must pardon me. I shall be loath to hazard a reputation with one that has not a reputation to lose. How? Meaning your pupil, sir. This is that black devil there. You do offer a strange affront, Monshir. Sir, he shall yield you all the honour of a competent adversary, if you please, to undertake him. I am pressed for the encounter. Me, challenge me. What, my master, sir? Slight, be sure, meddle with me to you here, but do not meddle with my master. Peace, good squib. Go out. And stink, he bid you. Master? Silence! I do accept him. Sit you down and observe. Me? He never professed a thing or charges. Prepare yourself, sir. Challenge me. I will prosecute but disgrace my hatred can dictate to me. How tender a traveller's spleen is. Comparison to men that deserve least is ever most offensive. You are instructed in our chartel, and know our weapons. I appear not without their notice, sir. But I must lose the prizes, master. I will win them for you. Be patient. Lady? To Moria. Thou save the tenure of this ensign. Who shall be your stickler? Behold him. Points to crisis. I wouldn't wish you a weaker. Sound, musics. I provoke you at the barricoste. The charge. Excellent, comely. And worthily studied. This is the exalted foretop. His leg was too much produced. And his hat was carried scurvelly. Peace. Let's see the monsieur's accost. Rare. Sprightly and short. True, it is the French quartot. He lacks but to have his nose slit. He does hop. He does bound too much. A flourish. The second bout to conclude this weapon. A charge. Good, believe it. An excellent offer. This is called the solemn band-string. That cringe was not put home. He makes a face like a stablo-grace. Well, he would need to 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. Making villainous faces. See, the French prepares it richly. I—this is eclipsed the serious trifle. Slide, tis the horse-start out of the brown study. Rather the bird eyed stroke, sir. Your observance is too blunt, sir. A flourish. Judges, award the prize. Take breath, sir. This bout half been labours. And yet your critic, or your besong-do, will think these things foppy and easy now. 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. We must prefer the monsieur. We courtiers must be partial. Speak, guardian. Name the prize at the bearer cost. A pair of wall-eyes and a face forced. Give them on, sir. Amorphous hath lost his eyes. Eye? Is the pallet of your judgment down? Gentles, I do appeal. Yes, master, to me the judges be fools. How now, sir? Tie up your tongue, mongrel. He cannot appeal. Say you, sir. Sit you still, sir. Why, so I do. Do not I, I pray you. Remusé, madame. And these honourable censors. Well, to the second weapon, the better regard. I will encounter you better. Attempt. Sweet honour. What says my good ambition? Which take you at this next weapon? I lay a discretion with you on Amorphous's head. Why, I take the French behaviour, gentlemen. Tis done, a discretion. A discretion? A pretty court wager. Would any discreet person hazard his wet soul? I'll lay a discretion with you, Aniades. Hang on. I'll not venture a doigt of discretion on either of their heads. No, he should venture all of them. I like none of their plays. A charge. See, see, this is strange play. Tis too full of uncertain motion. He hobbles too much. Tis called your court stanger, sir. That's some fellow talk, so now he has a place. Hang him, neglect him. Your good ladyships affectionate. Oh, so. They speak at this weapon, brother. They must do, sister. How should it be the better regard, else? Me thinks he did not this respectively enough. Why, de Monsieur, but Dali's with him. Dali's? Slight see, he'll put him to it in earnest. Well done, Amorphous. That puff was good indeed. Hards me. This is desperate play. He hits himself of the shins. And he make this good through. He carries it, sir, warrant him. Indeed, he displays his feet rarely. See, see, he does the respectively adamnably well. The true idolature of your beauty shall never pass their deities unadored. Arrest your poor knight. See, now the obliquia or the jannous. He satisfies all that aspect most nobly. A flourish. And most terribly he comes off, like your roto montado. How like you this play, Aniades. Good play, but it is too rough and boisterous. I will second it with a stroke easier, wherein I will prove his language. A charge. This is filthy and grave now. Out is cool and wary play. We must not disgrace our own comrade too much. Signora Hotanto, obligo per le favoro, resciuto de lai, ce veramente descedoro con tutto i cor. E remenerala, in part, i securative. Signora Mel, cara. Ce io serà sempre pronto e severilla. I honora sta. Basico le man di voi, Signora. The Venetian dot this. Most unexpectedly excellent. The French goes down certain. As buckets are put down into a well, or as a schoolboy. Trust up your simile, Jack-Dot, and observe. Now the mystia is moved. Bo peep. Most antique. The French quirk this, sir. Heart, he will overrun her. Mademoiselle, je voudrais que pouvaient monstrer mon affection, mais le je suis tant malheuse. Si fort, si laide, si je ne sais qui le dire. Excusez-moi, je suis tant vostre. The flourish. Oh brave and spirited, he's a right jovialist. No, no, amorphous's gravity outweighs it. And yet your lady, or your feather, would outweigh both. What's the prize, lady, at this better regard? A face favorably simpering and a fan waving. They have done doubtfully. Divide. Give the favorable face to the Signor, and the light wave to the Montseur. You become the simper well, lady. And the wag better. Now to our solemn address. Please, the well-graced Philatia, to relieve the Lady Sentinel. She hath stood long. With all my heart, come, guardian, resign your place. Moria comes from the state. Montseur, furnish yourself with that solemnity of ornament. You think fit for this third weapon, at which you are to show all the cunning of stroke your devotion can possibly devise. Let me alone, sir. I'll sufficiently decipher your amorous solemnities. Cratus, have patience. See if I hit not all their practice observance, with which they lime twigs to catch their fantastic ladybirds. High, but you should do more, charitably, to do it more openly, that they might discover themselves mocked in these monstrous affections. A charge. Lacky, where's the tailor? Enter Taylor, Barber, Perfumer, Milliner, Jeweler, and Feathermaker. Here, sir. See, they have that tailor, Barber, Perfumer, Milliner, Jeweler, Feathermaker, all in common. They make themselves ready on the stage. Aye, this is pretty. Here is a here too much. Take it off. Where are they, mullets? Is this pink of equal proportion to this cut, standing off this distance from it? That it is, sir. Is it so, sir? You impudent paltrune, you slave, you list, you shreds, you... Beats the tailor. Excellent! This was the best yet. Why, we must use our tailors thus. This is our true magnanimity. Come, go too, put on. We must bear with you for the time's sake. Is the perfume rich in this jerkin? Taste. Smell. I assure you, sir, pure Benjamin. The only spirit it sent that ever await in the Apolleton nostril. You'd wish yourself all nose for the love-hond. I frotted a jerkin for a new revenue, gentlemen. Yielded me three score crowns but this morning, and the same titillation. I savour no Sam's such an innit. I am a nullifidian, if there be not three-thirds of a scruple more of Sam's suchinum in this confection than ever I put in any. I'll tell you all the ingredients, sir. You shall be simple to discover your symbols. Simple? Why, sir? What wreck I to whom I discover? I have it in musk, civet, amber, phonicobolanus, the decoction of turmeric, cezana, nard, spiked nard, calymasodoratus, stacta, opobossamum, amomum, storax, ladnum, asplathum, opoponax, onanther. 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. Well, undo me with it. I will, sir. An excellent confection. And most worthy a true voluptuary. Jove, what a coil these muskworms 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 striveth to keep is one special argument to me, that effecting to smell better than other men, he doth indeed smell far worse. I know you will say it sits well, sir. Good faith! If it do not, sir, let your mistress be judge. By heaven! If my mistress do not like it, I'll make no more conscious to undo these than to undo an oyster. Believe it, there's nair a mistress in the world, can mislike it. No, not good wife Taylor, 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 taffedas, will look that we should dive into the depths of that cut. Give me my scarf. Show some ribbons, sir. Have you the feather? Aye, sir. Have you the jewel? Yes, sir. What must I give for the higher aunt? You shall give me six crowns, sir. Six crowns? By heaven! It were a good deed to borrow it of thee to show, and never let thee have it again. I hope your worship will not do so, sir. My jolt, sir. There be such tricks stirring, I can tell you, and worthily too. Extorting daves that live by these court decorums. And yet... What's your jewel worth, I pray? A hundred crowns, sir. A hundred crowns? And six for the loaned on an hour? That's that in the hundred for the year? These imposters would not be hanged. 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 it. Give me my convex, my mosqueadini, and place those colors in my hat. These are Balonian ribbons, I warrant you. In truth, sir. If they be not right, Crenado silk. A pox on you. You all say so. You gave me not a penny, sir. Come, sir. Perfume my devant. May it ascend like solemn sacrifice into the nostrils of the queen of love. Your French ceremonies are the best. Montseur, Signor, your solemn address is too long. The ladies long to have you come on. Soft, sir. Our coming on is not so easily prepared. Signor Fig. Aye, sir. Can you help my complexion here? Oh, yes, sir. I have an excellent mineral fucous 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 amber in the umber. Your price, sweet fig? Give me what you will, sir. The Signor pays me two crowns a pair. You shall give me your love, sir. My love! With a pox to you, Goodman Sassafras. Aye, come, sir. There's an excellent diapasam in a chain, too, if you like it. Stay. What are the ingredients to your fucous? Not but sublimate and crude mercury, sir, well-prepared and dulcified, with the jaw-bones of a sow, burnt, beaten, and searsed. I approve it. Lay it on. I'll have your chain of pomandas, sir. What's your price? 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 bald. Come, invert my mustachio, and we have done. It is good. Hold still. I pray you, sir. May the fucous is exorbitant, sir. Death dost thou burn me, harlot? I precede you, sir. Beg a violet paltrune. Beats him. Excellent, excellent! Your French beat is the most natural beat of the world. Oh, that I had played at this weapon! Recharge. Peace! Now they come on, the second part. Madam, your beauty's being so attractive. I muse you are left thus alone. Better be alone, sir, than ill-accompanyed. Not can be ill, lady, that can come near your goodness. Sweet madam! On what part of you so our a man casts his eye? He meets with perfection. You are the lively image of Venus throughout, and all the grace is 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 wider than goat's milk or may blossoms. A cloud is not so soft as your skin. Wells truck, monsieur. He charges like a Frenchman indeed, thick and hotly. Your cheeks are cupid's baths, wherein he uses his 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. Me things with such a love. I should find no head nor foot of my pleasure. You are the very spirit of a lady. Fair play, monsieur. You are too hot on the quarry. Give your competitor audience. Lady, how strange so ever the muncher's tongue is. You will lie by your side more dull than your eunuch. A good stroke. That mouth was excellently put over. You are fair, lady. You offer foul, sir, to close. You keep your distance for all your bravo, rapiteer. I say you are fair, lady. Let your choice be fit as you are fair. I say, ladies, to never believe they are fair, till some fool begins to dot upon them. You play too rough, gentlemen. You are a Frenchified fool as your only fool, lady. I do yield to this honorable muncher in all civil and humane courtesies. The flourish. Buzz. Admirable. Give him the prize. Give him the prize. That mouth again was most courtly hit, and rare. I knew I should pass upon him the bitter bomb. Oh, but the reverse was singular. It was most subtle, amorphous. If I had done it, it should have been better. How heartily they applaud this crisis. You suffer them too long. I'll take off their edge instantly. Name the prize at the solemn address. Two lips wagging. A never-a-wise word, I take it. Give to amorphous, and upon him again, let him not draw free breath. Thanks, fair deliverer, and my honorable judges. Bedham Fentaste, you are worthy object at this next weapon. Most covetingly ready, amorphous. She takes the state instead of allotia. Your messiah is Christfallen. So are most of them once a year. You will see. I shall now give him the gentle door presently. He, forgetting to ship the colors, which are now changed with alteration of the mistress. At your last weapon, sir, the perfect clothes, set forward. The charge. Intend your approach, muncher. Here's your, senor. With your example, sir. Not I, sir. It is your right. By no possible means. You have the way. As I am noble. As I am virtuous. Pardon me, sir. I will die first. You are a tyrant in courtesy. He is removed. Stays mercury on his movin'. Judges bear witness. What of that, sir? You are removed, sir. Well... I challenge you. You have received the door. Give me the prize. Soft, sir. How, the door? The common mistress, you see, is changed. Right, sir. And you have still in your hat the former colors. You lie, sir. I have none. I have pulled them out. I meant to play discolored. A flourish. The door. The door. The door. The door. The door. That palpable door. Heart of my blood, amorphous. What have you done? Stuck a disgrace upon us all, and at your last weapon. I could have done no more. By heaven it was most unfortunate luck. Luck. By that candle it was mere rashness and oversight. Would any man have ventured to play so open and forsake his ward? Damn me. If he have not internally undone himself in court, and discountenanced us, that were his main countenance by it. Forgive it now. It was the solicism of my stars. The ring by the hand and the banquet is ours. Oh! Here's a lady feels like a wench in 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 pressed them. They are so gently delicate. He that had the grace to print a kiss on these lips should taste wine and roselies. Ah! She kisses as close as a cockle. Let's take them down as deep as our hearts wench, till our very souls mix. Adieu, senor. Good faith I shall drink to you at supper, sir. Stay, Monsior. Who awards you the prize? Why, his proper merit, sir. You see he has played down your grand garb master here. 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. Indeed, I must declare myself to you no professed courtling, nor to have any excellent stroke at your subtle weapons. Yet, if you please, I dare venture to hit with you, or your fellow, sir, Dagonet here. With me. Yes, sir. 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. Do and swing him soundly, good aniodis. Let me alone. I'll play other manner of play, then has been seen yet. I would the prize lay on't. It shall, if you will. I forgive my right. Are you so confident? What's your weapon? At any eye, sir. The perfect clothes. That's now the best. Content, I'll pay your scolarity. Who offers? Mary, that will I. I dare give you that advantage too. You dare? Well, look to your liberal sconce. Make your play still upon the answerer, sir. Hold your peace. You are a hobby-horse. Sit by me, master. Now, Critis, strike home. A charge. Critis, aside to Mercury. You shall see me undo the assured swagger with a trick instantly. I will play all his own play before him. Court the winch in his garb, in his phrase, with his face. Leave him not so much as a look, an eye, a stock, or an imperfect oath to express himself by, after me. Excellent, Critis. When begin you, sir. Have you consulted? To your cause, sir. Which is the peace stands forth to be courted. Oh, are you she? To fall out here. 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 senor, 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 bookworm, 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, damn me, but I know it is so, I am assured it is so, and I and my sword shall make it appear it is so, and give you reasons sufficient how it can be no otherwise, but so. Slightly, Critis, you are mocked, and so we are all. Ah, now, senor, what? Suffer yourself to be cousin of your courtship before your face? This is plain confederacy to disgrace us. Let's be gone and plot some revenge. When men disgrace us share, the lesser is the care. Nay, stay, my dear ambition. To Hayden. I can do you over, too. You that tell your mistress her beauty is all composed of theft. Her hair stole from Apollo's goldilocks. Her white and red lilies and roses stolen out of paradise. Her eyes two stars plucked from the sky. Her nose the nomen 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 Hayden, instead of Hayden. They flourish. Sister, come away. I cannot endure them longer. Excellent all but mercury in crisis. Go, doors, and you, my madame courting-stocks, follow your scorned and erided mates. Tell to your guilty breast what mere guilt blocks you are, and how unworthy human states. Now, sacred god of wit, if you can make those whom our sports tax in these apish graces kiss like the fighty snakes, your peaceful rod, these times shall canonize you for a god. Why, Critis, think you an ennobled spirit, or any worth a title of a man, will be incensed to see the enchanted veils of self-conceit and servile flattery wrapped 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 sun of earth, the mole, crowned with no more humanity nor soul? Though they may see it, yet the huge estate fancy in form, essential pride have gotten, will make them blush for anger, not for shame, and turn shown nakedness to impudence. Humor is now the test we try things in. All power is just, not that delights a sin, and yet the zeal of every knowing man oppressed with hills of tyranny, cast on virtue by the light fancies of fools, thus transported, cannot but vent the ethna of his fires, tin-flame best bosoms with much worthier love than 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 force-look, an antique gesture, or a fustian phrase, study the native frame of a true heart, an inward comeliness of bounty, a knowledge, and spirit that may conform them actually to God's high figures, which they have in power, which to neglect for self-loving neatness is sacrilege of an unpardoned greatness. Then let the truth of these things strengthen thee in thy extent and only manlike cause, like it the more, the less it is respected, though man fail virtue is by God's protected. See, here comes Arete, I withdraw myself. Exit. Enter Arete. Critesies, you must provide straight from ask. Tis in thee as pleasure. How bright Arete! Why tour labour more for Hercules! Better and sooner dirst I undertake to make the different seasons of the year, the winds or elements, to sympathize, than their unmeasurable vanity dance truly in a measure. They agree. What though all concords born of contrary, so many follies will confusion prove, and like a sort of giant instruments all out of tune, because indeed we see there is not that analogy to its discords as between things that merely opposite. There is your error. For as Hermes warned, 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, forgetteth the eccentric property, and at her sight turns forth with regular, whose scepter 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 masked like others. For in troth, not so to incorporate them could be nothing else, than like a state ungoverned, without laws or body made of nothing but diseases, the one through impotency, poor and wretched, the other for the anarchy absurd. Ah, but lady, for the revelers themselves, it would be better in my poor conceit that others were employed, for such as our unfit to be in Cynthia's court can seem no less unfit to be in Cynthia's sports. That, Critis, is not purposed without particular knowledge of the Goddess's mind, who, holding true intelligence, pot-follies had crept into her palace. She resolved of sports and triumphs, under that pretext, to have them muster in their pomp and fullness, so that she might more strictly, and to root, effect the reformation she intends. I now conceive her heavenly drift and 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 incandled by the sense, disdain not my chaste fire, but feed the flame devoted truly to thy gracious name. Leave to suspect us, Critis, well shall find, as we are now most dear, we'll prove most kind. Within. Arete. Hark! I am called. Exit. I follow instantly. Phoebus Apollo, if with ancient rites and due devotions I have ever hung elaborate peons on thy golden shrine, or sung thy triumphs in a lofty strain, fit forth theater of gods to hear. And thou, the other son of Marijoe, Selenine Mercury, sweet Maya's joy, if in the busy tumults of the mind my path thou ever hast illumined, for which thine altars I have oft perfumed, and deck thy statues with discolored flowers, now thrive in vision in this glorious court. That not a bounty only, but of right. Cynthia may grace and give it life by sight. Exit. End of Act 5, Part 1.