POETA

How now my Triple, my Minikin, art thou so pleasant? But my little Fidde, where hast thou been? Mine? If I had not called thee my Fiddle before, I might now call thee my Trumpet, but I will yet call thee my Pipe, my Syrinx, a piece of Pan's Reed: but prithee, sirrah, who were they? Oh Melancholico! here's a Wench, if her Mistress would partly with her, would make thee live one seven years longer, but to be in her company. Thy Lady? Indeed I have herd thy Lady loves Music well, and for that respect I have had a conceit to Her my self. Hold her, Melancholico, she shall not begun yet. Nay, prithee Musicam, tell me how thou camest to attend on Astronomia first. But a Divine Lady! but a Divine Lady! I cannot tell what ails me, but I am not very well. Follow me in, Me lancholico. Be rid of you Varlets. What Egyptian darkness has seized upon your faces? Marry if I had a Commission I knew what to do with you. My Famble Villain? This is almost as bade as the language of Logicus. Would! a fair wife and many children? how knowest thou that? what's thy name? And thine? Physiognomus, and Cheiromantes? Why what can you do? My fortune? why what's my fortune? Shall have? thou meanest, Would have. Would! as beautiful as the Stars? and no History ever made mention of so fair a one? why that is, it shall not be Historiam but Astronomia. I'm crowned! Sirrah, you flatter me. Why now my dream's out. Nay, I'll bear with any misfortune in my children, so I may be happy in my wife. Oh divine Astronomia, why? was not this my very dream? While Poeta looks up ear nestly, Cheiro mantes picks his pocket, takes out a book and a purse, and so he with Physiog nomus departs. ME thought as on a shady bank I lay, The while a murmuring Brook did gently play With his soft sliding waves, and did complain How Astronomia did my love disdain; A Lady, Like my Love, in Heaven did stand, The Sun and Moon waiting on either hand: And when I spoke, she Frowned: and, when I cried, She, with a wanton smile, seemed to deride. At last the Sun and Moon did both descend, And unto me, me thought, their course did bend. But when they were drawn nigh, they both appeared Coalblack; that with the wonder I was feared. They came and kissed me, and then suddenly They both did vanish from my trembling eye. The Lady then, seeming to smile, did make A sign unto me, and did bid me take The Teian Poet, sweet Anacreon, My individual companion, And in my native language to translate His Niobe, and as it was her fate To turn into a stone; so I by this Should find a stranger Metamorphosis: And she, that I did love, should change her heart Of stone, and by her love release my smart. I took my book and straight translated it; (Lines soon are penned when Love does dictate wit) With that me thought she pulled me up unto her, And said; I'll now refresh thee my grieved wooer. She pulled me up, and when I was even crowned With Heaven, she let me fallen back to the ground. When with the fallen me thought I lost my deer Anacreon, and that increased my fear. Then with this double fear I straight awake, And my faint joints with a chill horror shaked. I'll comment thus: that face that from above Appeared, was the fair image of my love, Bright Astronomia: and the darkened Sun And Moon that graciously vouchsafed to run From their own Sphere to kiss me, were these two Black, but glad messengers (if this be true They do pronounce) and therefore they were sent From heaven, because they knew the gods intent. The turning of Anacreon does imply I shall obtain her love by Poesy. And, ere I rose, this morn I made my quill Express Anacreons Iönian skill. Verses can draw the Moon from Heaven; then may My lines, if blessed, win Astronomia. Her letting me fallen down, was not true story, But feigned by envious sleep to make me sorry. So was the losing my Anacreon: But dearest friend, as yet thou art not gone: No, no, my Hope's and joys are too too great; And these do flatter me too much— But stay—Oh my Anacreon, my Anacreon, He feels in his pockets, & finds himself coo zen'd. I have lost my Anam creon: Varlets, Villains, I'm deluded, my pockets are picked; I have lost my Anacreon: did I dream? or did I make Verses? or was I mad? now my dream's out, it's out indeed, all; for now I remember me, I left out the worst partly unexpounded, and that was their vanishing from me: well, this it's to be a Stargazer, and fallen into a pit; I was thinking of Astrono mia, when I was by promise to have met with Geographus: well, I'll pursue my first intendment, and to Geographus for the learning of the languages; and fear never a corrival under Heaven, now Mithridates, and Scaliger are dead. Exit Poeta. I, But Medicus, who brought you word that Poeta was sick? For Astronomia's sake? why? is he in love with her? (For Astronomia's sake!) or is he in love with me! I woun't torture my self, I'll expound gently; He's in love with me, and because (it may be) he hears I love her, he accounts (it may be) that he does this, that I may obtain her: and thus (it may be) he means he does this for Her: This is Scurvy; Master Geographus you have marred your own Market; my stomach's turned; I have Tongues enough for a wiseman; thousands before me have God Wife and Children, more then thy could keep, without learning the Languages; and there before from henceforth, for fear of the worst, you may, Master Geographus, (if you please) undertake a second Travel. She should have sent me Poison, far from her I count it so; yet let the Messenger Return our courteous gratitude. Begun. Exit Melancholico. Lo, thus vexations never come alone; Well, I woun to love her; nay, I'll would her more Henceforth; she plagues me worse then before. —Why, I prithee know I lack No Physic, there it's, thou mayest carry't back. — How! —Why? it was sent but now From my Lovesick Historiam. —O to see The Treachery of women! well, conceal The fact as yet; joust time shall all reveal. Oh Women, Witches, Monsters, Furies Devils, The impure extract of a World of evils; Nature's great Error; the obliquity Of the Gods Wisdom; and the Anomaly From all that's good; I'l curse you all below The Centre, and, if I could, then further throw Your cursed heads; and if any should gain A place in Heaven, I'll time they down again To a worse ruin; yet me thinks I hear How Astronomia whispers in mine ear, And begs a Pardon for them; well; to thee I'l yield, thou standest above mortality. Aspire, my gentle Muse, inflame my breast; Then thus my graceful love shall be expressed. Her Brow is Like a brave Heroic line, That does a sacred Majesty inshrine. Her Nose Phaleuciake -Like in comely sort Ends in a Trochie, or a long and short. Her Mouth is Like a pretty Dimeter; Her Eyebrows Like a little-longer Trimeter. Her Chin is and Adonicke; and her Tongue— Is and Hyp rmeter, somewhat too-long. Her Eyes, I may compare them unto two Quick-turning Dactyles, for their nimble View. Her Neck A clepiad -Like turns round about Behind, before a little bone stands out. Her Ribs Like Staves of Sapphickes do descend Thither, which but to name were to offend. Her Arms Like two Iambickes raised on High, Do with her Brow bear equal Majesty. Her Legs Like two strait Spondies, keep a pace Slow as two Scazons, but with stately grace. Thanks to my Muse; yet why do I admire Her thus, whom I enjoy but by desire? For more I never shall; this is my weight Of grief, and this my preordained Fate. He takes up his Lute. Come, come, thou partly of Heaven, companion Of all my woes and loves, thou that alone Dost in the midst of sorrows yield relief, And though not take away, make less my grief. My dearest Lute, Apoollo's best invention Wherewith he does compose the wild dissension Of our untuned desires, which would confound Us quite, but that they break forth with a found! Sighs from ̄ our breasts are Like sounds from ̄ thy womb, Born dead, and buried in and aery Tomb. Sighs then to Cupid, tell him he's too blame Not raising in my love a mutual flame. —Begun. —Sirrah, begun. Ho, Melancholico. Dance, I say, Dance. —Sirrah, dance that which I play. Begun: MELANCHOLICO continues dancing. Sirrah, begun. —Away, away, Charmer, Enchanter, 'tis a truth to say, Our bodies cast their shapes into the Air, And can appear when they are gone; so rare Philosophers have held, and so I hold: Pardon, great Astronomia, I was bold, Too-bold, I do confess, but my dim sighed Could not before behold thee though so bright. But now mine eyes are cleared; on my bowed knee, I ask a Pardon of thy Majesty. Pardon thy Poet, and vouchsafe this grace, He feigns A stronomia to be present, falls on his knees, imbra ces and kisses the air: then rises. That thy rich beauty's he may thus embrace. And now, deer Love, add hereunto one kiss, And then thou shalt in heaven my soul with bliss. Maro, thy Riddle's solved: I thus untie The knot, which thou didst knit, men's wits to try. Dic quibus in terris (& eris mihi magnus APOLLO) Tres pateat Coeli spatium (non amplius) ulnas? Maro, it's here; here's Astronomia; Here's Heaven closed in those narrow limits; nay, Here's Deity, the object of all loves, Enough to make a thousand Heavens of Jove's. See, He thinks he sees her ascen ding into Hea ven. see, how she ascends! mount, mount, great Queen Of Heaven, and in full lustre be thou seen Mortalities amazement; see, she's gone To mount yet higher to a stately Throne, Placed on the Azure pavement of the Stars, Guarded by Days, Months, Hours, then sees the wars Of Pygmy -mortals—. Enter MELANCHOLICO. —With us? Admit him in. Exit Melancholico. Enter ETHICVS. What? comes your froward age to chide us? But— I will. Well then, I'll in and dress me, and so come, Yet better purchance you had my room. Exit Poeta. Come kiss, come kiss, my Corinna, And still that sport we'll beginn-a, That our souls so may meet In our lips, while they greet: Come kiss, come kiss, my Corinna. Here's a health to Astronomia. A match, hay boys. The black Jack The merry black Jack As it is tossed on by-a Grows, Flows, Till at last they fallen to blows, And make their noddles cry-a. The deep Can The merry deep Can As thou dost freely quaff a. Sing. Fling. Be as merry as a King And Found a lusty laugh a. Oh ho, ho, ho, ho, ho. Oh ho, ho, ho, ho, ho. In his sleep. Oh ho, ho, ho, ho, ho. Oh ho, ho, ho, ho, ho: In his sleep. Some drink, Tantalus, some drink, some drink; or I will— By the—by the— By the great—By the great— By the great—By the great— By the great Hogshead at Heidelburge, Logicus is a Blockhead. Corinna, will you kiss? will you kiss cockle-kisse? close, close, you Whore. I will make this Verse Like a Nut-hooke-like a Nut-hooke-and then pull down—pull down the Moon with it. He begins to rise. Come kiss, my Pigeon, come kiss, my pretty Corinna, Nibble a little, my Love; nibble again, and again. My purse is richer the ̄ the Mines rich India brings forth. Take off your whole one, or take a souse of the chops. Poeta strikes Cheiromantes Nay, if you talk of drinking, I could drink my self half a dozen Helicons off at a draught: Musicam, fetch a flagon of Wine. By Jove we will have our liquour about us. Go Wench, why, Sir, should not she drink? O that was it, that was it; then fill out the liquour. Say you so! marry, I think, you'll prove a para doxicall Paracelsian your self; if you hold such Tenants: for you know, Sir, it's the most received opinion of Physicians, that variety of meats disturbs concoction. I understand Sir. How? is that possible? That's pretty faith: the reason, the reason, Master Physician. You Physicians, I perceive, sometime have some of Apollo in you. In good faith, you Physicians are the only fell lowes in the world to tell Tales by Gentlewomen's Bedsides, while they are sick. I wonder you Physicians do not turn Trauailors, you'd have and advantage beyond them all, by making good your Relations, by giving a reason for them. Marry, Heavens forbid. Press the abuse thoroughly, as I instructed you. With yours? I'ld laugh at that, faith. But I'm sure I gave him a couple. Yours! he's mine. How! thou Varlet! why? art thou not mine? Fie, Logicus, fie; you see I give you never a foul word, and that the goodness of my Cause, moves even the Judge in my defence. Nay, Logicus, you have little reason to say so, I can tell you: for if we take a view of the most illustrious Age, that ever the world enjoyed, which I think to be the time of the twelve Roman Caesars; wherein Arms and Learning were at their height, you may observe Poetry to have been most famous, embraced by Emperors, admired by all who laboured to have their names amongst the Learned. But for Logicians, alas, (I must speak the truth) as their names were unknown, so were their endeavours buried in obscurity: Indeed those times were thrifty, and active: but these, out of a wanton softness of a dainty sloth, do only spin out these Spi der-webs of curiosity; and it hath been often my meditati on, to have and amputation of such Excrescencies, and to cause that our youth which is to be instructed for future use, should not consume the strength of their wits, in and injurious labour of fruitless vanities. I do not deny a joust knowledge of your faculty, to be most necessary, and our selves there into have and advantage of former times: but yet, alas! how many thousand famous Orators have there been without Logic? how many eternal Poets without Logic? whose divine eloquence could speak beyond all Logic; without all Logic. Enter MUSICAM. You abuse the integrity of our Honourable Judge. The only Scholars? the only Dunces. Yes Loggerhead, Dunces: dost thou murmur? thou knowest not the Letters of thy Alphabet yet. Nay, never make a Vizard of thy scurvy face: I say thou knowest not the Letters of thy Alphabet: have not I herd thee say? Omne A. est B. Omne B st C. Ergo Omne A. est C. and indeed I think there is a Like reason, for A. may as well be C. as B. but fare you well Blockhead, fare you well. Exit. How did ye then? And what did you come away then? Alas! what did you do in that case being alone? Me thinks you should have had but Cold Come fort to be in that place alone. And is this the reward which Geographus having now got enough gives unto you? especially you having saved his credit hitherto in not discovering also his lying ar rogancie? it's inhumane ingratitude. Ethicus (to Phantastes) How now weathercock? what wind blue you this way? (to Poeta) Why, wise man, have you never a fitter Companion then this travailing gallant? [to Phantastes] Pray be so mannerly as to travail a little aside; I must speak with Poeta. A service. Yes I will attend upon their joy and mine own grief: I have made a mask aforehand; for I foresaw long ago Geographus should have her; I have kept my promise; but it's but short, as my discontent would give me leave: and the boys that are to act it, have learned it at once reading over, and Melancholico has dressed them by this time I think. Mine? alas! I'll resolve now to live and die a maid: Historiam shall register me up among her examples of virginity. I yield: Historiam, my love shall more inseparably follow thee, then the Hexameter the Pentameter; or the Ado neck, the Sapphicke. And did she not say she had made rare devices, rare devices (for she repeated it) to cause Harmony? Fa, la, la, la, la, solemnizing, la, mi, fa, hum—and did she not say she would not change her service for any under Heaven? Hum. And did she not say she could say more? Fa, la, la, la, la, solemnizing, la, mi, fa, pretty little Musicam! Fa, la, la, la, la, solemnizing, la, mi, fa, for she sung it three times I remem ber, pretty Musicam; divine Astronomia! —the juice of the Gods Nepenthe were vinegar to one of her kisses: divine A stronomia! Unjust, blind God of love, or not enfire My breast; or, if thou dost, crown my desire. Poeta sees the Siquis, and Mell. takes it down. What Si quis is that? Good, good; I'll monopolize this commodity; Logicus and Grammaticus enter. Poeta tears the Siquis. when I shall have so many tongues to woo, I will not doubt to ob tayne Astronomia. SO, Grammaticus, you'd feign Rule me still:— Et nos ergo manum ferulae subduximus. Why, how now, Logicus? will you be the Neptune, to calm these Seas with your three-forked Mace? I thought you could spet nothing but Aristotle. Why how, no, Logicus? hast thou caught the itch of Grammaticus? I should rather have thought, thou wouldst have infected him. Nay, then i'faith: Atrepido vix abstinetira Magistro. Melancholico, do thou crack and argument with clog-head, there. To him, Melancholico. Will you come again, Sir! I believe thee, i'faith; Logicus, will you return? Oh, have we broke off one of the forks of your Mace? he most valiantly now runs away upon two feet: Stay, here comes Choler, Grammaticus his man. Yes, Sir: what say you to that? O! is that all! Domini similis es; farewell, valiant Champion. As what, I pray you, Sir? Oh strange! but, Sir, as I remember that net was invisible. Oh wonderful! O, that I was not made a trauailour! Oh wonderful! but then I pray, Sir, how does he come away? O admirable! but me thinks when the door is open, they should hear it below likewise in the Vault, and stand still there too. Indeed, that's and excellent reason. Oh strange! white bears! and yet indeed I have herd that a late in America there are white bears, but they are most terrible. That's somewhat worth the admiration; and yet I think all Bears at first had long tails, or else why should the Bear in the heavens have one! Oh, that came thus; when Jupiter pulled him up to heaven by the tail, the weight of his body broke it, where upon Jupiter caught him by the rumpe, and so tied his tail together again, & that is the reason of the knot in the middle of it, and so it has ever since hung slopeling downward, if you mark it. I fancy the conceit prettily. How? at the same instant! that's impossible. How? his Belly speak? Oh wonderful! wonderful! Sir, I courteously accept your offered endeavours. How? for Astronomia's? [he spoke that to himself] Sir, I am on a sudden less well affected, wherefore par done, I pray you, and abrupt entreating of your present depar ture, and some speedy occasion shall shortly offer a second meeting. Me? Faith, when I was coming hither, he was in a dump, and therefore I thinking him not fit to come to a ban quet, left him behind me; and indeed that's his fault, he will not commonly be merry in company. With the most ingenuous freedom of a Poet, I ac cept it: Grammaticus, that our contention ending in love, may make a Tragike-Comedie, I drink to you. He drinks. Why how now, Grammaticus! who do you drink to? faith thou art now a Noun Substantive indeed, for thou standest alone by thy self, without being joined to any of these Adjectives. What? dost thou make a Jester of me? Me thinks I see a Direct line pass from the Eye of Geometres to Astronomia's. Some Aquam vitae, I say, for Geometres. Why, he's a dying I think, his eyes are fixed in's head already. Me thinks I see a Direct line pass from the Eye of Geometres to Astronomia's. By Jove I came to be merry, and I will be merry. Here's and health to Astronomia. He drinks. Sir, you wrong us all, not to take off your full measure. He loves not Astronomia, that does not pledge her a whole one. Well, and you woun't, here's to you that will: A second health to Astronomia. He drinks. Have at you then. FIll up my boul to the brim-a, That my lips in wine may swim-a; That my Muse may slow And the world may it know: Fill up my boul to the brimme-a Here's a health to Astronomia. He drinks. How? not pledge me? Choler, fill the bowl again; by Jove, not pledge me? pledge me, pledge me, Geographus: for by Jove — I will drink with thee, and I will sing with thee, and I will fight with thee. By Jove. I will drink with thee, I will sing with thee, and I will fight with thee. By Jove (He drinks) you lowsie-shirted rogue, you fit above me? did not you beg entertainment of me to there day? Ten-toes, I know you're a good footman; Come, Geometres, I hope you'll fit squarely to it still. Farewell, Hostess; we shall be sure to have no rec koning now Arithmeticam is gone: and yet I'll pay you some what, Clinch-fist. (He beats Logicus, and overturns the Table; then falls on Grammaticus, and Choler.) Hay tables! Hay! Farewell blockhead: now pae-da-gog, pa-da-gog: I must say my Partly to you too. Choler, will not you fight for your Master, valiantly? Are you all gone? then, Apparent rari nantes in gurgite vasto. I am King, I am King: by Tantalus I am as dry as and Horse. He falls down and sleeps. Magus charms him. Oh, some drink, some drink. How far hast thou travailed with Geographus? Sayest thou so? What's that? But what was your device against the cold? O the impudence of villainy! by the reputation of a Gentleman, I put five pounds of gold into it the morning before I came forth; or else Poeta's a Feigner. I (alas!) Polites, let Poeta obtain so much for Phantastes: that he may be servant to Melancholico and Musicam. Melancholico enters, takes money and de parts. HIst, Melancholico, passion of me! I had almost forgotten the main point of the business: here— give that to Causidicus. A man may as well open and Oyster without a knife, as a Lawyers mouth without a fee; but if he were half dead, that would (Like strong-water to a dying man) make him Gape, though he could not speak. Oh the Serpentine ingra titude of man! that these snakes, whom I have nourished in my bosom, should now sting me! This Logicus, a base, dry-brain'd kecks-witted clinch-fist, not long ago, perceiving his Fortune's to be brought to a desperate precipitation; through the incomprehensible difficulty of his Artless curi osities, most fawningly embosomes himself into my ac quaintance, upon a former consideration of my alluring fa culty; and in the dusty terms of some cobweb eloquence, blunderingly stammerd out his extreme, his extreme wants: for he had only so much enforced rhetoric, as to bring out those words twice, & so by chance light upon a sorry Figure; then brutishly he expressed the rest, rather by crying then spea king; (& indeed he had no more moisture else in him, then on lie to bewail his own misery) when asking what was his re quest, he answered, that I would turn his unpleasant rules in to pleasant Verse: I straight out of the open freeness of my nam ture and and effuse goodness, prevented the repetition of his suit, by a quick consent; thereupon set my self a work, and after some travail performed it: Some Travail I say; for by the Nine Muses, I think I was above Nine Months in tram vail with that monstrous birth: If one but consider what splayfooted verses they were, a man would swear, that some infernal hag, not a Muse (though unwilling) had been the mother of them; which unhappy labour when I had showed unto him, the reviving wretch falls on's knees, and mires the work, calls me the Aesculapius of his salvation, and with hands lifted up, vows to pay his vows at the Mu ses altar; that I now more admired at his admiration, then at the deformities of mine own Work: for, by Jove, they are such unblest, such unlucky verses, that, beside the lose of custom, which they may justly procure the Author, they are able to make a man be suspected for a Conjurer; there wants nothing but a Circle to make a complete conjuration. Fecana, Caieti, Dafenes, Hebare, Gedaco, Gebali stant, non stant, Febas, Hebas, Hecas. Sure I think it should have been Hecate. Well, he enjoys them; and upon the happiness of this success came Gramma ticus to me with the Like suit: in-faith I did it, and cast most of his Rules likewise into Verse: but by Jove, since the proud Schoolmaster has showed himself thus ungracious and stiffnecked towards me, I'll be even with him; and now I think on't, there's all his Syntaxis yet to do; but by this hand, if ever I turn line of it into Verse, let me hereafter be a mere Heteroclite, and the very Aptoton of a fool per omnes casus. Fecana, Caieti, Dafenes, Hebare, Gedaco, Gebali stant, non stant, Febas, Hebas, Hecas. LEt's set upon him. The gods preserve you Sir, from the black dragon of the night. Melancholico comes in, and lays down & departs. BE not far off. That nothing is entire! Nothing all-blest! but still some new desire Brings a new torture! and this Fate does lie, And heavy weight on all mortality! It does; thus was not lately my affection Chained to Historiam by a strong subjection? Did I not pule, and pine, entreat, and cry? Pretend a sickness? threaten I would die, If she not loved me? did I not act all The frantic parts wherewith Love does enthral His Rebell-Subiects? Did I not look Sad If she but Frowned; and, if she Smiled, look Glad? I did; and took delight to be enchained To her, Hope said at last she might be gained. Yet see the wheel of change! I now do scorn Her tears, and now she thinks her self forlorn. Yes