SOPHRONIA

Stay Martius, though I know love to grow to such looseness, and hoarding to such misery, that I may rather grieve at both, than remedy either: yet thy ani mating my father to continual arms, to conquer crowns, hath only brought him into imminent danger of his own head. The love he hath followed, I fear unnatural; the riches he hath God, I know vnmeasura ble; the wars he hath levied, I doubt unlawful; hath drawn his body with gray hairs to the graves mouth; and his mind with eating cares to desperate determi nations: ambition hath but two steps, the lowest blood; the highest envy: both these hath my unhappy father climbde, digging mines of gold with the lives of men, and now envied of the whole world, is environed with enemies round about the world, not knowing that am bition hath one heel nailed in hell, though she stretch her finger to touch the heavens. I would the Gods would remove this punishment, so that Midas would be penitent. Let him thrust thee, Eristus with thy love, into Italy, where they honour lust for a God, as the A gyptians did dogs: thee, Mellacrites with thy greedi nes of gold, to the utmost parts of the West, where all the guts of the earth are gold: and thee, Martius, that soundest but blood and terror, into those barbarous Nations, where nothing is to be found but blood and terror. Let Phrygia be and example of chastity, not Lust; liberality, not covetousness; valour, not tyranny. I wish not your bodies banished, but your minds, that my fa there and your king, may be our honour, and the world's wonder. And thou Caelia, and all you Ladies, learn this of Sophronia, that beauty in a minute is both a blossom and a blast: Love, a worm which seeming to live in the eye, die in the heart. You be all young, and fair, endeavour all to be wise & virtuous, that when, Like roses, you shall fallen from the stalk, you may be gathered & put to the still. Eristus, thy tongue does itch to talk of love, and my ears tingle to hear it. I charge you all, if you owe any duty to your king, to go presently unto the temple of Bacchus, offer praise-gifts, and sacrifice, that Midas may be released of his wish, or his life: this I en treat you, this Midas commands you. Jar not with your selves, agree in one for your king, if ever you took Midas for your lawful king. Go speedily, least Midas die before you re turn: and you Caelia shall go with me, that with talk we may beguile the time, and my father think of no meat. Why Suavia, are you so light, that you must chat of love; or so heavy, that you must needs sleep? Penelope in the absence of her Lord beguiled the days with spinning. Why Suavia, it was a bow which she knew to be above thy strength, and therein she showed her wit. Why, dost thou not think she was chased? To talk with thee is to loose time, not well to spend it, how say you Amerula, what shall we do? What say you Caelia? What think you Camilla? You see Suavia, that there are other things to keep one from idleness; beside love: nay that there is nothing to make idleness, but love. Amerula, begin thy tale. Why laughest thou? Indeed I was overshot in judgement, and she in discretion. Amerula, another tale or none, this is too lovely. Happy Sophronia, that hast lived to hear these news, and happy Midas, if thou live better to govern thy fortune. But what is become of our king? Martius, I mislike not thy plain dealing: but pity my Father's trance; a trance I must call that, where nature cannot move, nor counsel, nor music, nor physic, nor danger, nor death, nor all. But that which makes me most both to sorrow and wonder, is that music (a methridat for melancholy) should make him mad; crying still, Uno nam que modo Pan & Apollo no cent. None hath access to him but Motto, as though me lancholy were to be shaven with a razor, not cured with a medicine. But stay, what noise is this in those redes? I dare Mellacrites, the words are plain, Midas the King hath asses ears. So dare I Camilla: for it concerns me in du tie, & us all in discretion. But soft, let us Harken better. Dear father then go forward, prepare for the sacrifice, and dispose of Sophronia as it best pleases you. I marvel there is no answer. Is it possible that Midas should be so overshot in judgement? Unhappy Midas, whose wits melt with his gold, and whose gold is consumed with his wits. Nothing, but that since Midas hath confessed his fault to us, he also acknowledge it to Apollo. Honoured be Apollo, Midas is restored. Mellacrites, I cannot tell whither I should more mislike thy council, or Midas consent, but the covetous humour of you both I contemn and wonder at, being unfit for a king, whose honour should consist in liberality, not greediness; and unworthy the calling of Mellacrites, whose fame should rise by the Soldiers God, Mars, not by the Merchant's God, Gold. The Gods shield him from all harms: the woods are full of Tigers, and he of courage: wild beasts make no difference between a king & a clown; nor hunter's in the heat of their pastime, fear no more the fiersnes of the boar, than ̄ the fearfulness of the hare. But I hope well, let us in to see all well. Dread Sovereign and loving Sire, there are nine days passed, and therefore the wonder is passed; there are many years to come, and therefore a reme die to be hoped for. Though your cares belong, yet is there room left on your head for a diadem: though they resemble the ears of the dullest beast, yet should they not daunt the spirit of so great a King. The Gods dally with men, kings are no more: they disgrace kings, lest they should be thought gods: sacrifice pleases them, so that if you know by the Oracle what God wrought it, you shall by humble submission, by that God be re leased. So, no more Ladies: let our coming to sport not turn to spite. Love thou Suavia, if thou think it sweet: sing thou Caelia for thine own content: tell thou tales, and dance thou Camilla: and so every one using his own delight, shall have no cause to be discontent. But here continued ̄ meth Martius & the rest. What news Martius of my Sovereign and Father Midas? LAdies, here must we attend the happy return of my father, but in the mean season what pa stime shall we use to pass the time? I will agree to any, so it be not to talk of love. Unfortunate Midas, that being so great a king, there should out of the earth spring so great a shame. Ladies, how Like you Suavia in her loving vain?