FELICE

Thou promisest more, than I hope any Specta tor gives faith of performance: but why look you so dusky? would? Why, what must you play? 'Tis steady, and must seem so impregnably fortrest with his own continued ̄ tent, that no envious thought could ever invade his spirit: never surveying any man so unmeasuredly happy, whom I thought not justly hateful for some true impoverishment: never behol ding any favour of Madam Felicity gracing another, which his well bounded content persuaded not to hang in the front of his own fortune: and therefore as far from envying any man, as he valued all men infinitely distant from accomplished beatitude. These native adjuncts appropriate to me the name of Feli I. But last, good thy humour. Confusion to these limber Sycophants. No sooner mischief's born in regenty, But flattery christens it with policy. Why then: Oh me Celitum excelsissimum! The intestine malice, and inveterate hate I always boar to that Andrugio, Glories in triumph over his misery: Nor shall that carpet-boy Antonio Match with my daughter, sweet cheeked Mellida. No, the public power makes my faction strong. Ill, when public power stre ̄ gthneth private wro ̄ g. 'Tis godlike, for a man to feel remorse. Whop: fut how he tickles yond trout under the gilles! you shall see him take him by and by, with gro ping flattery. Of a kind Parasite Why man, cry out for lanthorn and candle light. For 'tis your only way, to find your bright fla ming wench, with your light burning torch: for most commonly, these light creatures live in darkness. Go, you amorous hound, follow the sent of your mistress shoe; away. Roaring, roaring. Oh love thou hast murdered me, made me a shadow, and you hear not Balurdo, but Balurdos ghost. Faith, I have nineteen Mistress's already, and I not much disdain that thou shouldst make up the full score. Good again, Echo. Fut, what treble minikin squeaks there, would? good? very good, very very good? To thee my love divine. Plague on thee for and Ass. I wonder it does not envy me. Why man, I have be born upon the spirits wings, The souls swift Pegasus, the fantasy: And from the height of contemplation, Have viewed the feeble joints men totter on. I envy none; but hate, or pity all. For when I view, with and intentive thought, That creature fair; but proud; him rich, but sot: Th'other witty; but unmeasured arrogant: Him great; yet boundless in ambition: Him high born; but of base life: to there feared; Yet feared fears, and fears most, to be most loved: Him wise; but made a fool for public use: Th'other learned, but self-opinionate: When I discourse all these, and see my self Nor fair, nor rich, nor witty, great, nor feared: Yet amply suited, with all full content: Lord, how I clap my hands, and smooth my brow, Rubbing my quiet bosom, tossing up A grateful spirit to omnipotence! There are a number of such things, as then Have often urged me to such lose belief: But 'Slid you all do lie, you all do lie. I have put on good clothes, and smugd my face, Strook a fair wench, with a smart speaking eye: Courted in all sorts, blunt, and passionate; Had opportunity put them to the ah: And, by this light, I find them wondrous chaste, Impregnable; perchance a kiss, or so: But for the rest, Oh most inexorable. To her most esteemed, loved, and generous servant, Sig. Castilio Balthazar. Pree the from whom comes this? faith I must see. Nay, god's my comfort, I must see the rest; I must, sans ceremony, faith I must. Item for strait canvas, thirteen pence, half penny. Item for and elle and a half of taffeta to cover your old canvas dubblet, fourteen shillings, & three pence. 'Slight, this a tailors bill. More fool, more rare fools! Oh, for time and place, long enough, and large enough, to act these fools! Here might be made a rare Scene of folly, if the Plate could bear it. Would would would. I could break my spleen at his im patience. Antonio, Be not affright, sweet Prince; appease thy fear, Buckle thy spirits up, put all thy wits In wimble Actium, or thou art surprised. Art mad, or desperate? or You are distracted; Oh, this is madness breath. Nay, heavens my comfort, now you are perverse; You know I always loved you; pree thee live. Wilt thou strike dead thy friends, draw mourning tears Tut, that's all one: isle defame thy love; And make thy dead trunk held in vile regard. It was I that struck you even now. I bastinadoed you, and you took it. Content faith, so thou'lt breed no more such lies. I hate not man, but men lewd qualities. Sh'ad never a kettle on her head? S'will, flatter her soundly. Hast writ good moving unaffected rhymes to her. Hast thou presented her with sumptuous gifts? Go and hang thy self, I say, go hang thy self, If that thou canst not give, go hang thy self: I'll rhyme thee dead, or verse thee to the rope. How thinkest thou of a Poet that sung thus; Munera sola pacant, sola addunt munera formam: Munere solicits Pallada, Cypris erit. Munera, munera. Now master Balurdo, whither are you going, would? Whither art thou going, bully? Whither art going man? Oh to court? farewell. Very good, farewell. Very good, very good, farewell. Stand away: here's such a company of flibotes, hulling about this galleass of greatness, that there's no boarding him. Do you hear yond thing called, Duke? Yonder's a knight, hath brought Andrugio's head, & craves admittance to your chair of state. What then? I fear it is not possible to limb so many per sons in so small a tablet as the compass of our plays afford. Peace, here comes the Prologue, clear the Stage. Stand, the ground trembleth. Piero stay, for I descry a fume, Creeping from out the bosom of the deep, The breath of darkness, fatal when it's whist In greatness stomach: this same smoke, called pride, Take heed shee'le lift thee to improvidence, And break thy neck from steep security, Shee'le make thee grudge to let Jehovah share In thy successful battles: Oh, she's ominous, Enticeth princes to devour heaven, Swallow omnipotence, outstare dread fate, Subdue Eternity in giant thought, Heaves up their hurt with swelling, puffed conceit, Till their souls burst with venomed Arrogance: Beware Piero, Room it self hath tried, Confusions train blows up this Babel pride. I fell not my thought so cheap: I valve my meditation at a higher rate. For flattery. Oh how I hate that same Egyptian louse; A rotten maggot, that lives by stinking filth Of tainted spirits: vengeance to such dogs, That sprout by gnawing senseless carrion. Pree thee Flaviam be my mistress. I in faith, & it not for printing, and painting, my breech, and your face would be out of reparation. And thou, by Art, too fair to be beloved. By wits life, most spark spirits, but hard chance. La ty dine. Confusion seize me, but I think thou liest. Why should I not be sought to then aswell? Fut, me thinks, I am as Like a man Troth, I have a good head of hair, a cheek Not as yet waned; a leg, faith, in the full. I would not a read beard, take not tobacco much: And 'Slid, for other parts of manliness Honest musk-cod, 'twill not be so stitched toga there; take that, and that, and belie no Ladies love: swear no more by Jesu: this Madam, that Lady; hence go, forswear the presence, travail three years to bury this bastinado: avoid, puff past, avoid. Rare sport, rare sport! A female fool, and a fe male flatterer Before heaven, the Duke comes: hold you, take my key, Slink to my chamber, look you; that is it: There shall you find a suit I wore at sea: Take it, and slip away. Nay, precious, If yowl be peevish, by this light, I'll swear, Thou rail'dst upon thy love before thou dyedst, And called her strumpet. The wolf, that eats into the breast of Princes; that breeds the Lethargy and falling sickness in honour; makes Justice look asquint, and blinks the eye of me rited reward from viewing desertful virtue. The substance of a supple-chapt flatterer. Tush never put them off: for women wear the breaches still. But I have a partly allotted me, which I have nei there able apprehension to conceit, nor what I con ceipt gracious ability to utter. Slud sweet beauty, will you deign him your service? Castilio? Alberto? Balurdo? none up? Forobosco? Flattery, nor thou up yet: Then there's no Courtier stirring: that's firm truth? I cannot sleep: Feliche seldom rests In these court lodgings. I have walked all night, To see if the nocturnal court delights Could force me envy their felicity: And by plain troth; I will confess plain troth: I envy nothing, but the Trauense light. Oh, had it eyes, and ears, and tongues, it might See sport, hear speech of most strange surquedries. Oh, if that candlelight were made a Poet, He would prove a rare firking Satirist, And draw the core forth of impostumed sin. Well, I thank heaven yet, that my content Can envy nothing, but poor candlelight. As for the other glistering copper spangs, That glisten in the tyer of the Court, Praise God, I either hate, or pity them. Well here isle sleep till that the scene of up Is passed at Court. Oh calm hushed rich content, Is there a being blessedness without thee? How soft thou down'st the couch where thou dost rest, Nectar to life, thou sweet Ambrosian feast. Oh that the stomach of this queasy age Digests, or brooks such raw unseasoned gobs, And vomits not them forth! Oh slavish sots. Servant quoth you? faugh: if a dog should crave And beg her service, he should have it straight: She give him favours too; to lick her feet, Or fetch her fan, or some such drudgery: A good dogs office, which these amorists Triumph of: 'tis rare, well give her more Ass, More sot, as long as dropping of her nose Is sworn rich pearl by such low slaves as those. Well said echo. Rampum scrampum, mount tufty Tamburlaine. What rattling thunder clap breaks from his lips? Oh, then I have it, I'll tell thee what to do.