PONERIA

Hath love not yet put on his starry nightcap? No; nor Juno her spangled smock? Blind Ignorance that grop'st in Cymerian darkness, That liest inveloped in the shads of everlasting night, That wantest those glorious spectacles of Nature, Those Crystalline spheres that should illumine Thy Microcosmus, Why dost thou thus malign the guiltless light, She being the fairest Creature that Nature ever made? Bold Ignorance, thou Idol of these times That over a woollen wit, oft wearest a satin Cap: And sometime at our Bacchanalian feasts Appearest as brave as a Canonical Saint In a Calendar: I hug thy resolution, stupid devil, That dost with generous malice amply supply What is defective in thy intellect: But if thou'lt give my faithful counsel leave For to divert the torrent of thy wrath, Then lend a facile ear to my advice: Bend not thy bootless hate against that Orb of light, Whose mighty flames will scorch the impious wings Of those Nocturnal birds, that shall attempt With talons most profane, to injure his bright beauty. A meaner object than this, shall satisfy Thy wrath, and my displeasure. This is the day whereon the new society of Florists, have determined to keep their annual festivals: Whose pompous Celebration hath wont to eclipse All feasts beside: the Olympian games, And Isthmian plays, with all those Ludicrous And Ludibrious Combats, are but mere Puppet plays To this grand feast, for Art and nature both have tried To make this Feast surpass all feasts beside. Unite thy force with mine, then ten to one We shall disturb their mirth, ever we have done. Then first unto thy chin we must apply This Philosophical beesome. Now is the old proverb really performed, More hair than wit. How Like a Senator he looks? What a world of gravity's harboured in that beard? Surely the world can take him for no other Than the third Cato that should fallen from heaven. But here's the Ensign of learning, The badge of the seven Liberal Sciences, Operculum ingenii, the silken Case of wit, The Cap of knowledge; Clap this upon thy Empty hog shed, put this on, and then thy head Will become a Helicon, and thy brain a Pyrene. Dost not perceive thy head begin to ache With mere abundance of knowledge? Away found idiot, do not conceit That this Cap can infuse any thing real into thy pate, That is uncapable of all art and science. Under the protection of this Cap, thou mayest be bold To traduce thy betters, to censure the best, To decide controversies without discretion, To torment all companies with thy discourse, And weary ears of iron with thy impertinences; Do but wear this headpiece over the Coif of Selfe-conceit (always provided) that thou forgettest Not to leave off a brazen face; and I dare Undertake it, thou in a short time, shalt gain More respect (especially among Plebean Coxcombs) Then ever Pythagoras, had of his auditors. But yet, me thinks, there's somewhat else to do To make thee more accomplished and complete. God's-light, the political gown; I had as clean forgotten it As the time since I lost my maiden head. Here it's: dispatch. and put it on, And then be reputed both grave,— Learned, and wise. Doubtless it will become thee exceeding well. Now looks he not Like a main stud of a Corporation? It's true, authority is heavy, I confess, But not so heavy but and Ass may beare't. Since now, Agnostus, that we are well fitted With habits meet, to act what we intend; Thou seeming Like a grave and learned Sire; Though thou indeed then that be'st nothing less, And I Like to a virtuous maiden dight, Though I all virtue deeply do abhor; We thus disguised, will all the world delude, And set the flowers at ods among themselves, That they in civil enmities embroiled, Shall of their pride and glories be despoiled. Hold, hold thy hand, fair Shepherdess, Attempt not to commit a fact so horrid. No Fury, but your happy Genius Brought us to these uncomfortable shades, For to prevent your mischievous intent. It's true; death is a mortal wound that cures all wounds Of body, and of mind: it is the souls potion That purgeth her from corporal pollution. But you must not your own Physician prove, Not be the Doctor, and the Patient too: For if thy soul be sickly, and grow weary Of this unwholesome earthly habitation, Because this airs spissitude suits not With her Celestial Constitution, She must not Like a bankrupt Tenant prove, That flies by night from and unprofitable Farm, Before the term of his Lease be expired: But stay till heaven shall give her egress free Unto the haven of rest and happiness. Art not thou the sister of Cynosbatus, Lord of the silver mines, and golden mountains. And art not thou as fair a Shepherdess As trips upon the plains of Thessaly? I know thy sorrows, sweetest Eglantine; Thy Rhodons absence hath wrought all thy woe, Who now, they say, does beauteous Iris court. But if thou wilt make me thy instrument, I'll undertake to break the match, If not, renew the love which erst he bore to thee. Then banish all these melancholy thoughts, And deck thy self in thy most sumptuous weeds. Make hast unto the Fane of gentle Venus, A pair of Turtles of a snowy hue, Upon her altars offer thou to her, And her beseech to intercede for thee Unto her angry boy: Then shalt thou find The God and goddess to true lovers kind. He is but what he seems, fair Shepherdess: His head's the officine of art; his tongue The oracle of truth; he is the man Whom only Nature hath vouchsas'd to make Her privy Counselor. Those abstruse secrets which no mortal eye Did ever view, he plainly can descry; He is the man that's destined to find out That grand mysterious secret, in whose discovery So many bold adventurous wits have perished: I mean the Elixar, the Philosophers precious stone. Heis the man who by strange policies Can break the strong Confederacies of Kings, And overthrow more Empires by his plots, Then mighty Alexander ere did by strength: Agnostus is his name, renowned no less For honesty, than skill in Sciences. Agnostus, not a word more for thy life. Stay, stay, sweet Eglaentine, and dread no harm, This is the language which the Persian Magi used When they with their familiars did converse, To which he is so frequently accustomed, That oft he speaks it ever he be aware. (Agnostus) vouchsafe to use your native language, That Eglantine may know what you are. I hope you know your lesson, Twice twenty times and ten, &c. Enough Agnostus: Now fair Shepherdess, I hope you have a fair expression Of this learned men sublime desert, and art? FOrget you not the powder for your breath, Your pallid cheek requires, in mine opinion, A deeper tincture of vermilion. I tell you true I would not for twenty crowns That Rhodon had seen you with this face. That Ceruse on your brow is extremely dull, There is no lustre, no resplendency in it. 'Slight I have seen often times a stained cloth Over a smoky chimney in and Alehouse Present me with a better face. If you do not, you are no friend to your self. O that is exceedingly well died. Nay, pardon me Madam: 'tis passing well. The brown hue is the most incomparable colour For a hair of all other. Those golden wires that on fair Hero's shoulders dangl And those fair flaxen threads that made Jove Dote upon fair Nonacrine, May not be compared with the lovely brown. Fair shepherdess I will. Why so good Eglantine? I grant he is: and since things are thus, I will so act my partly, that his new love Shall be the means to renew that good will That hath been heretofore betwixt him and you. Good daughter undervalue not my skill, For it's contrived how it shall be effected, And to satisfy thy curiosity, I will declare how I have laid the plot. I will a message bear in Iris name, Unto the Shepherd Rhodon, which shall show, That she desires and amorous interview With him, in such a privacy That day must not be guilty of it: A solitary glade shall be the place, Where you protected by the veil of conscious night, Instead of Iris shall present your self Unto the Shepherd Rhodon, Whom you shall entertain with sweet discourse, And so comport your self, that he shall think, You are his dearest Iris. But to assure him yours, I have provided A precious Philter of rare efficacy, Composed according to the rudiments of art. This shall you cause him to carouse As water of inestimable worth. Which done, he is your own; And Iris then shall be forgotten clean, As one whom he had never scarce known or seen. Provide your self to meet him in the myrtle grove Upon eleven at night. Now I'll to Rhodon go, and him invite, To meet you at the appointed place this night. Doubt not great Martagon but I will effect it. Agnostus come forth: black cloud of ignorance, Advance thy leaden pate dull Camel. Thou son of sleep; that hatest the lightsome day, Clap on thy spectacles of judgement, and behold How I have played my partly. Thou flowest with gall (Agnostus) I confess, But thou hast a brain intolerably dry, As empty of wit, as the world is of conscience. Surcharged with deep despite and viperous hate, Their forces they against each other bend. But I have a plot, old plumbeous dotard, To crop the proudest flower that grows In Hybla or Hymettus. This glass contains a rare confectign: 'Tis vipers blood mixed with the juice of Aconite: This is the Philter, the sweet love-potion Which Eglnatine poor lovesick fool, Must commend to the Shepherd Rhodon, Who this night by my appointment, Is to meet her in the myrtle grove, under the Name of Iris: now I'll to Eglantine, And bless her longing ears with these glad tidings. See yonder the beguiled lover walks In vain, expecting the coming of his deer Iris, Now, Eglantine remember my instructions, Have a care that your tongue betray you not. Be not too talkative in any case. Forget not the posture I so oft told you of, Under pretence that these cold nightly dews are Offensive, you may knit your veil more close, And conceal your feature. But be sure you persuade him to take the Potion before he sleeps; You'll remember those virtues which I told you it contains. Forget not to declare them amply. Nay, if you doubt it, I wish it never might take. Have I made hell a party in the Actium, And laid such snares, that more then humane force Cannot withstand my well knit stratagem; Yet will you still torment me with these doubts? You tempt my patience, while you thus mistrust My skill and my ability. Me thinks I see the merry Post at hand, That brings us joyful news of Rhodons death: And not behind him much me thinks I see Another Post, who comes with better news, That Rhodons army is discouraged and discarded, Yea quite disbanded and dispersed. Yet you account me a mere silly Dame, Yea as silly as some simple simpering Citizen. That hath but manners enough to take The upper end of a Table at a feast, And to carve a Capons leg to a Coxcomb. Well, my Master's, I hope you'll thank me When you hear that I have made proud Rhodon A Legier Ambassador in Done Pluto's Court. Who would leave any villainy undone, To be thy slave, most noble Martagon. Now Agnostus, since by the death of Rhodon We have endeared our selves to Martagon, It's meet we provide for a back winter, That we purchase some eminence of place, To make us glorious in the world's ill-sighted eye, That being great we may the greater mischief do: And since a war is newly set abroach, I will a suitor be to General Martagon; To place thee in some military office Of high regard and special consequence, Where by thy ignorant conduct and base carriage, Thou mayest a thousand heroic souls send packing Unto the Stygian shore. What neither heart nor brains; out inglorious Iozel, Thou most unwieldy burden of the earth: I could find in my heart to kick thy soul out Of thy carcase: art all composed of earth and water? Hast not a spark of air or fire in that bulk? I tell thee I will procure thee a Captains place. Hast wit enough to swallow the dead pays, And to patch up thy Company in a Mustering day: Hast valour enough to wear a Buffe-jerken With three gold laces. Hast strength enough to support a Dutch felt With a flaunting Feather? Can thy side endure to be wedded to a Rapire Hatched with gold, with hilt and hangers of the new fashion? Canst drink, drab, and dice: Canst damn thy self into debt among Believing Tradesmen; Hast manners enough to give thy Lieutenant, Ancient or Sergeant leave to go before thee Upon any piece of danger? Hast wit enough, in thy anger, not to draw a sword? These are the chief properties that pertain To our modern Captains; and if thou Couldst but be taught these military rudiments, I doubt not but thou mightest prove a very Excellent new soldier. Agnostus, come along, thy self prepare To be a servant to the God of war. Thanks (worthy Martagon) believe it Sir, Those good respects which I to your affairs owe, Urged me t'importune you for his employment, Because I know him to be a tried soldier, Of great experience, worth and merit: How say you, Colonel Agnostus, I hope your actions shall make good my words hereafter. Trust me sir, although he wants verbal expression, He is a Gentleman of singular abilities. What adverse power hath crossed our plot? The opposition of the cursed fates Hath brought us to deserved confusion. Now I accursed wretch have seen too well, That heaven will not be overruled by hell. Thrice noble Rhodon, in whose noble breast True pity dwells, vouchsafe a pardon To us distressed Caitiff's. I am the unfortunate Poneria, That was suborned by unjust Martagon To work thy utter ruin: I did conduct the lovesick Eglantine Unto thy presence instead of Iris: I caused her to give thee a poisonous drink, Under the pretence that it was a love-potion. I have deserved to die, and crave life at your hands. Nay worthy sir. BOld foolish wickedness is that Which walks by day, exposed to the world's eye. Sin is the daughter of the darkest night, And therefore does abhor to come to light. Give me that coal black sin that can lie hid. Under the candid robes of seeing sanctity; Which dares put out the perspicacious eyes Of those that shall attempt to find her out. Come dull Agnostus, let us disguise our selves And be prepared to act some stratagem To eclipse the glory of these festivals. This robe of virtue does belong to me; This goodly veil shall hide my black intents. Thus personated, I durst undertake To rend a well woven state in factious pieces; To win the ears of mighty Potentates; And hoodwink Kings, that they should neither see To do what's joust, nor hear the piteous cries Of those that are oppressed. But that thou, Agnostus, mayest second my designs, It's very fit thou shouldst be thus accoutered.