MIDAS

Bacchus, for a king to beg of a God it is no shame, but to ask with advise, wisdom; give me leave to consult: least desiring things above my reach, I be fired with Phaeton: or against nature, & be drowned with Icarus: & so perishing, the world shall both laugh and wonder, crying, Magnis tamen excidit ausis. What say you Mellacrites? Cease you to dispute, I am determined. It is gold, Bacchus, that Midas desires, let every thing that Midas touches be turned to gold, so shalt thou bless thy guest, and manifest thy godhead. Let it be gold Bacchus. Fortunate Midas. It is gold Mellacrites, gold, it is gold. Gold Mellacrites, my sweet boy all is gold: for ever honoured be Bacchus, that above measure hath made Midas fortunate. Come my Lords, I will with gold pave my court, and deck with gold my turrets, these petty lands near to Phrygia shall totter, and other kingdoms be tur ned topsy turuie: I will command both the affections of men, and the Fortune's. Chastity will grow cheap where gold is not thought deer. Celia, chased Celia shall yield. You my Lords shall have my hands in your houses, turning your brazen gates to fine gold. Thus shall Midas be monarch of the world, the darer of for tune, the commander of love. Come let us in. Tush, he is a drunken God, else he would not have given so great a gift. Now it is done, I care not for any thing he can do. Every little king is a king, and the title con sisteth not in the compass of ground, but in the right of inheritance. Conquests are great thefts. Martius, thy council hath shed as much blood as would make another sea. Valour I cannot call it, and barbarousness is a word too mild. Come Mellaorites, let us go, and come you Eristus, that if I obtain mercy of Bacchus, we may offer Sacrifice to Bacchus. Martius, if you be not disposed to go, dis pose as you will of your self. In the chase, I lost all my company, and miss said the game too, I think Midas shall in all things be unfortunate. Midas the unfortunate King of Phrygia. To abuse a God. If Gods you be, although I dare wish nothing of Gods, being so deeply wounded with wishing; yet let my judgement prevail before these Nymphs, if we agree not, because I am a King. I Like it not. Me thinks theres more sweetness in the pipe of Pan, than Apollo's lute; I brook not that nice tickling of strings, that contents me that makes one start. What a shrillness came into mine ears out of that pipe, and what a goodly noise it made? Apollo, I must needs judge that Pan deserves most praise. What hast thou done Apollo? the ears of and Ass upon the head of a King? Help Pan, or Midas perishes. Ah Midas, why was not thy whole body metamorphosed, that there might have been no part left of Midas? Where shall I shroud this shame? or how may I be restored to mine old shape? Apollo is angry: blame not Apollo, whom being God of music thou didst both dislike and dishonour; preferring the barbarous noise of Pans pipe, before the sweet melo lodie of Apollo's lute. If I return to Phrygia, I shall be pointed at; if live in these woods, fauage beasts must be my continued ̄ panions: & what other companions should My das hope for than beasts, being of all beasts himself the dullest? Had it not been better for thee to have perished by a golden death, than now to led a beastly life? Un fortunate in thy wish, unwise in thy iudgme ̄ to; first a gol den fool, now a leaden ass. What will they say in Less bos (if happily these news come to Lesbos?) If they come Midas? yes, report flies as swift as thoughts, gathe ring wings in the air, & doubling rumours by her own running, insomuch as having here the ears of and ass, it will there be told, all my hairs are asseseares. Then will this be the byeword; Is Midas that sought to be More narch of the world, become the mock of the world? are his gold ̄ mines turned into water, as free for every one that will fetch, as for himself, that possessed the ̄ by wish? Ah poor Midas, are his conceits become blockish, his counsels unfortunate, his judgements unskilful? Ah foolish Midas, aiust reward, for thy pride to wax poor, for thy overweening to wax dull, for thy am bition to wax humble, for thy cruelty to say, Sis que mi sir semper, nec sis miserabilis ulli. But I must seek to continued ver my shame by art, least being once discovered to these petty Kings of Mysia, Pisidia and Galatia, they all join to add to mine Asses ears, of all the beasts the dullest, a sheeps heart, of all the beasts the fearfullest: and so cast lots for those Kingdoms, that I have wone with so many lives, & kept with so many envies. SOphronia, thou seest I am become a shame to the world, and a wonder. Mine ears glow. Mine ears? Ah miserable Midas, to have such ears as make thy checks blush, thy head monstrous, and thy heart desperate? Yet in blushing I am impudent, for I walk in the streets; in deformity I seem comely, for I have left off my Tyara; and my heart the more heavy it is for grief, the more hope it conceives of recovery. Sophronia, I commend thy care and courage, but let me hear these redes, that these loathsome ears may be glutted with the report, and that is as good as a remedy. Midas of Phrygia hath asses ears? So he hath, unhappy Midas. If these redes sing my shame so loud, will men whisper it softly? No, all the world all ready rings of it and as impossible it is to stay the ru mor, as to catch the wind in a net that blows in the air; or to stop the wind of all men's mouths that breathe out air. I will to Apollo, whose Oracle must be my doom, and I fear me, my dishonour, because my doom was his, if kings may disgrace gods. and gods they dis grace, when they forget their duties. Nothing, but that Apollo must determineal, or Midas see ruin of all. To Apollo will I offer and Ivory lute for his sweet harmony, and berries of bays as black as icat, for his love Daphne, pure simples for his physic, and continual incense for his prophesying. Come let us in. This is Delphos. Sacred Apollo, whose Oram cles be all divine, though doubtful: An swear poor Midas, and pity him. Found Midas, how canst thou ask pity of him whom thou hast so much abused; or why dost thou a buse the world, both to seem ignorant in not acknow ledging and offence; and impudent, so openly to crave pardon. Apollo will not answer, but Midas must not cease. Apollo, divine Apollo, Midas hath asses ears, yet let pity sink into thine ears, and tell when he shall be free from this shame, or what may mitigate his sin? No more Martius, I am the learnedest in Phry giam to interpret these Oracles and though shame hath hitherto caused me to conceal it, now I must unfold it by necessity. Thus destiny brings me, not only to be cause of all my shame, but reporter. Thou Sophronia, and you my Lords, Harken; When I had bathed my felf in Pactolus, and saw my wish to float in the waves, I wished the waves to overflow my body, so melanco lie my fortune made me, so mad my folly: yet by hun ting I thought to ease my heart. And coming at last to the hill Tmolus, I perceived Apollo and Pan conten ding for excellency in music: among Nymph's they required also my judgement. I (whom the lose of gold made discontent, and the possessing desperate) either dnlled with the humours of my weak brain, or deceived by thickness of my deaf ears, preferred the harsh noise of Pans pipe, before the sweet stroke of Apollos Lute, which caused Phœbus in justice (as I now confess, and then as I saw in anger) to set these ears on my head, that have wrong so many tears from mine eyes. For stretching my hands to Lesbos, I find that all the Gods have spurnde at my practises, and those Islands scorned them. My pride the gods disdain; my policy men: my mines have been emptied by soldiers, my soldiers spoiled by wars, my wars without success, because usurping, my usurping without end, because my ambi cion above measure. I will therefore yield my self to Bac chus, and acknowledge my wish to be vanity. to Apol lo, and confess my judgement to be foolish: to Mars, and say my wars are unjust: to Diana, and tell my of fection hath been unnatural. And I doubt not, what a God hath done to make me know my self, all the gods will help to undo, that I may come to my self. What talketh Sophronia to her self? I will Sophronia. Sacred Apollo, things passed cannot be recalled, repented they may be: behold, My das not only submitting himself to punishment, but confessing his peevishness, being glad for shame to call that peevishness, which indeed was folly. Whatsoever Apollo shall command, Midas will execute. It may be Sophronia, that neither you, nor any else, understand Apollo, because none of you have the heart of a king: but my thoughts expound my Fortune's, and my Fortune's hang upon my thoughts. That great Apollo, that joined to my head Asses ears, hath put into my heart a Lions mind. I see that by obscure shadows, which you cannot discern in fresh colours. Apollo in the depth of his dark answer, is to me the glistering of a bright sun. I perceive (and yet not too late) that Less bos will not be touched by gold, by force it cannot: that the Gods have pitched it out of the world, as not to be controlde by any in the world. Though my hand be gold, yet I must not think to span over the main Oh cean. Though my soldiers be valiant, I must not there before think my quarrels joust. There is no way to nail the crown of Phrygia fast to my daughters head, but in letting the crowns of others sit in quiet on theirs, How darest thou reply seeing me resolved? thy counsel hath spilled more blood than all my soldiers lances, let none be so hardy as to look to cross me. Sa cred Apollo; if sacrifice yearly at thy temple, and sub mission hourly in mine own Court, if fulfilling thy counsel, and correcting my councillors, may shake off these Asses ears, I here before thee vow to shake off all envies abroad, and at home all tyranny. Fortunate Midas, that feelest thy head light ned of dul ears, and thy heart of deadly sorrows. Come my Lords, let us repair to our Palace, in which Apol lo shall have astately statue erected: every month will we solemnize there a feast, and here every year a sacri fice. Phrygia shall be governed by Gods, not men, jest the Gods make beasts of men. So my counsel of war shall not make conquests in their own conceits, nor my councillors in peace make me poor, to enrich them selves. So blessed be Apollo, quiet be Lesbos, happy be Midas: and to begin this solemnity, let us sing to A pollo, for, so much as Music, nothing can content A pollo. IN Pactolus go bath thy wish and thee, Thy wish the waves shall have, and thou be free. Miserable Midas, as unadvised in thy wish, as in thy suc cease unfortunate. Oh unquenchable thirst of gold, which turns men's heads to led, and makest them blockish; their hearts to iron, and makest them covetous; their eyes to delight in the view, and makest them blind in the use. I that did possess mines of gold, could not be contented till my mind were also a mine. Could not the treasure of Phrygia, nor the tributes of Greece, nor mountains in the East, whose guts are gold, satisfy thy mind with gold? Ambition eateth gold, & drin keth blood; climeth so high by other men's heads, that she breaks her own neck. What should I do with a world of ground, whose body must be content with seven foot of earth? or why did I covet to get so ma nigh crowns, having my self but one head? Those that took small vessels at the sea, I accounted Pirates; and my self that suppressed whole Fleets, a Conqueror: as though robberies of Midas might masque under the names of triumphs, and the traffic of other Nations be called treachery. Thou hast pampered up thy self with slaughter, as Diomedes did his horse with blood; so unsatiable thy thirst, so heavy thy sword. Two books have I always carried in my bosom, calling them the dagger, and the sword; in which the names of all Prin ces, Noblemen, and Gentlemen were dedicated to slaughter, or if not (which worse is) to slavery. Oh my Lords, when I call to mind my cruelties in Lycaonia, my usurping in Getulia, my oppression in Sola: then do I find neither mercies in my conquests, nor colour for my wars, nor measure in my taxes. I have written my laws in blood, and made my Gods of gold; I have caused the mother's wombs to be their children's tombs, cradles to swim in blood Like boats, and the temples of the Gods a stews for strumpets. Have not I made the sea to groan under the number of my ships: and have they not perished, that there was not two left to make a number? Have I not thrust my sub iects into a Camp, Like oxen into a Cart; whom having made slaves by unjust wars, I use now as slaves for all wars? Have not I enticed the subjects of my neigh bor Princes to destroy their natural Kings? Like moths that eat the cloth in which they were bred, Like vipers that gnaw the bowels of which they were born, and Like worms that consume the wood in which they were engendered? To what kingdom have not I pre tended claim? as though I had been by the Gods created heir apparent to the world, making every tri fle a title; and all the territories about me, traitors to me. Why did I wish that all might be gold I touched, but that I thought all men's hearts would be touched with gold, that what policy could not compass, nor prowess, gold might have commanded, and conque read. A bridge of gold did I mean to make in that Island where all my navy could not make a breach. Those I lands did I long to touch, that I might turn them to gold, and my self to glory. But unhappy Midas, who by the same means perishes himself, that he thought to conquer others: being now become a shame to the world, a scorn to that petie Prince, and to thy self a consumption. A petie Prince, Midas? no, a Prince protected by the Gods, by Nature, by his own virtue, and his Subjects obedience. Have not all treasons been discovered by miracle, not counsel? that do the Gods challenge. Is not the Country walled with huge waves? that doth Nature claim. Is he not through the whole world a wonder, for wisdom and temperance? that is his own strength. Do not all his Subjects (Like Bees) swarm to preserve the King of Bees? that their loyalty maintaineth. My Lords, I faint both for lack of food, & want of grace. I will to the ri ver, where if I be rid of this intolerable disease of gold, I will next shake off that untemperate desire of govern meant, and measure my Territories, not by the great ness of my mind, but the right of my Succession. Dost thou not know Martius, that when Bacchus commanded me to bath my self in Pactolus, thou thoughtedst it a mere mockery, before with thine eyes thou sawest the remedy. And who knows whither Apollo gave me these ears, and therefore may release the punishment. Well, reply not, for I will to Delphos: in the mean time let it be proclaimed, that if there be any so cunning, that can tell the reason of these redes creaking, he shall have my daughter to his wife, or if she refuse it, a Dukedom for his pains: and withal, that whosoever is so bold as to say that Midas hath asses ears, shall presently loose his. Thou art barbarous not valiant. Gods must be entreated, not commanded: thou wouldst quench fire with a sword, and and to my shame (which is more than any Prince can endure) thy rudeness, (which is more than any sensible creature would follow.) Divine Apollo what shall become of Midas? Accept this lute, these ber rises, these simples, these tapers; if Apollo take any delight in music, in Daphne, in physic, in eternity. When Pan Apollo in music shall excel, Apollo his Oracle Midas of Phrygia shall loose his Asses ears; Pan did Apollo in music far excel, Therefore king Midas weareth Asses ears: Unless he shrink his stretching hand from Lesbos, His ears in length, at length shall reach to Delphos. Now my Lords, let me hear your opinions, what wish may make Midas most happy, and his Sub iects best content?