ROSCIUS

Why 'tis well. We use them in our Play. I am Sir, what of that? My spleen is up: And live not you by sin? Take away vanity and you both may break. What serves your lawful trade of selling pins, But to joint gewgaws, and to knit together Gorgets, strips, neck-clothes, laces, ribbons, ruffs, And many other such Like toys as these, To make the Baby Pride a pretty Puppet? And you sweet Featherman, whose beware though light Oreweighs your Conscience, what serves your Trade But to plume folly, to give Pride her wings, To deck vainglory? spoiling the Peacocks tail Adorn and Idiots Coxcomb! Oh dull ignorance! How ill it's understood what we do mean For good and honest! They abuse our Scene, And say we live by vice: Indeed 'tis true As the Physicians by diseases do, Only to cure them: They do live we see Like Cooks by pampering prodigality, Which are our found accusers. On the stage We set and Usurer to tell this age How ugly looks his soul: A prodigal Is taught by us how far from liberal His folly bears him: Boldly I dare say There has been more by us in some one Play Laughed into wit and virtue, then hath been By twenty tedious Lectures drawn from sin And foppish humours; Hence the cause does rise Men are not won by ears so well as eyes. First see what we present. Will you condemn without examination? Then take your places here, I will come to you And moralise the plot. REceive your places. The first that we present are the Extremes of a virtue necessary in our Conversation, called Comitas or Courtesy, which, as all other virtues, hath her deviations from the Mean. The one Colax, that to seem over Courteous falls into a servile flattery, the other (as fools fallen into the con traries which they shun) is Dyscolus, who hating to be a slavish Parasite grows into peevishness and impertinent distaste. And such they are. That is Aphobius, one that out of and impious confidence fears nothing. The other Deilus, that from and Atheistical distrust, shakes at the motion of a reed. These are the Extremes of Fortitude, that steers and even course between over much dar king, and overmuch fearing. Any vice Yields work for Flattery. These are Aneleutherus and illiberal Niggardly Usurer, that will fell heaven to purchase Earth. That, his son Asotus, a profuse Prodigal, that will fell earth to buy Hell. The extremes of Liberality which prescribes a mediocrity in the Getting and Spending of Riches. Go in with me to recreate your spirits, As Music theirs, with some refreshing song, Whose patience our rude Scene hath held too long. The end crowns every Actium, stay till that. Just Judges will not be prejudicate. The next we present are the extremes of Magnifi cence, who teaches a Decorum in great expenses, as Liberam lity in the lesser: One is Banausus, out of a mere tent ati on vaingloriously expensive; the other Microprepes one in glorious works extremely base and penurious. These are the extremes of Magnanimity. Canus a fellow so highly conceited of his own parts, that he thinks no honour above him; the other Micropsychus a base and low spirited fellow that undervaluing his own qualities, dares not aspire to those dignities, that otherwise his me rits are capable of. These are the extremes of Meekness. Orgylus and angry quarrelsome man, moved with the least shadow, or appearance of Injury. The other in defect, Aorgus, a fell low so patient, or rather insensible of wrong, that he is not capable of the grossest abuse. The next are the extremes of Truth, Alazon one that arrogates that to himself which is not his, and Eiron one that out of and itch to be thought modest dissembles his qualities; the one erring in defending a falsehood, the other offending in denying a truth. Retire your selves again, for these are sights Made to revive not burden with delights. The Actors beg your silence —The next virtue, whose extremes we would present, wants a name both in the Greek and Latin, But they describe it such a modesty as directs us in the pursuit, and refusal of the meaner honours and so and swers to Magnanimity, as Liberality to Magnificence: But here, that humour of the persons, being already before stalled, and no Pride now so much practised, or count nanc'd as that of Apparel, let me present you Philotimia, and overcurious Lady too neat in her attire and for Aphi lotimus, Luparius a nasty sordid sloven. To these enter the extremes of modesty, a near kinswoman of the virtues, Anaiskinthia or Impudence, a bawd; and Kataplectus and over bashful Scholar where our Author Hope's the women will pardon him, if of four and twenty vices he presents but two (Pride and Impu dence) of their sex. This is Agroicus, a rustic clownish fellow, whose discourse is all Country; And extreme of urbanity, where by you may observe there is a virtue in jesting. This is the other extreme of Urbanity; Bomolocus a fellow conceited of his own wit, though indeed it be no thing but the base dregs of scandal, and a lump of most vile and loathsome scurrility. He shall vent none here; But stay, and see how justly we have used him. Thus Sir you see how we have put a gag In the licentious mouth of base scurrility; He shall not Ibis -Like purge upward here, To infect the place with pestilential breath; We'll keep him tongue-tide; you and all I pro mice By Phœbus and his daughters, whose chased zones Were never yet by impure hands untied Our language shall flow chased, nothing found here That can give just offence to a strict ear. It is the mother of the Virtues. The Glass is but of one days continuance, For Pluto, thinking if it should cure all, His Kingdom would grow empty, (for it's sin That Peoples hell) went to the fates and bid they Spin it too short a thread: (for every thing As well as man is measured by their spindle.) They, as they must obey, gave it a thread No longer then the Beast's of Hyppanis That in one day is spun, drawn out, and cut. But Phœbus to require the black Gods envy, Will when the Glass is broke transfuse her virtue To live in Comedy—If you mean to see it Make hast— We want not you to play Mephostopholis. A pretty natural vizard! A Lookingglass, or two. 'Tis your own face you saw. Look in it now with me, what eest thou now? Look on that Thou callest and Angel, mark it well, and tell me, Is it not Like my face? Why so is that Like thine. Dost thou not see, It's not the glass but thy deformity That makes this ugly shape; if they be fair That view the Glass such the reflections are. This serves the body: The soul sees her face In Comedy, and has no other Glass. And yet me thinks if 'twere not for this Glass, Wherein the form of man beholds his grace, We could not find another way to see How near our shapes approach Divinity. Ladies, let they who will your glass deride, And say it is and Instrument of Pride: I will commend you for it; there you see If ye be fair, how truly fair yeebee: Where finding beauteous faces, I do know You'll have the greater care to keep them so. A heavenly vision in your beauty lies, Which nature hath denied to your own eyes; Were it not pity you alone should be Debarred of that others are blessed to see? Then take your glasses, and your selves enjoy The benefit of your selves; it is no toy, Though ignorance at slight esteem hath set her, That will preserve us good or make us better. A Country slut, (for such she was, though here Ith City may be some as well as there:) Kept her hands clean, (for those being always seen Had told her else how sluttish she had been) But and her face as nasty as the stall Of a fishmonger, or a Usurers Hall Daubed oh e with dirt: One might have dared to say She was a true piece of Prometheus clay, Not yet informed: And then her unkembed hair Dressed up with cobwebs, made her hag-like stare. One day within her pail (for Country Lasses (Fair Ladies) have no other Looking-glasses:). She spied her ugliness, and feign she would Have blushed if through so much dirt she could: Ashamed, within that water, that I say Which showed her filth, she washed her filth away. So Comedies, as Poets do intend them, Serve first to show our faults and then to mend them Upon our Stage two glasses oft there be, The Comic Mirror and the Tragedy: The Comic glass is full of merry strife, The low reflection of a Country life. Grave Tragedy void of such homely sports Is the sad glass of Cities and of Courts. I'll show you both, Thalia come and bring Thy Buskin'd sister, that of Blood does king It was a Masque she spoke of, a rude Dance Presented by the seven deadly sins. It's but a simple Dance, brought in to show The native fowl esse and deformity Of our deer fin, and what and ugly guest He entertains, admits him to his B est! I pray ye stir your selves within a while. So does Philosophy, but the Actors enter. Temperance is the mediocrity of enjoying plea sures, when they are present, and a moderate desire of them being absent; And these are the extremes of that virtue. Acolastus a voluptuous Epicure, that out of and immode rate, and untamed desire seeks after all pleasures promise cuously, without respect of honest or lawful. The other Anaisthetus a mere Anchorite that delights in nothing, not in those legitimate recreations allowed of by God and nature. The next are the extremes of Justice. Give your eyes some respite. You know already what our Vices be, In the next Act you shall our Virtues see. The several Virtues. There be not. These are Moral virtues. Yes! We do present them royal, as they are In all their state, in a full dance. Dancing is lawful. It is the golden Mediocrity. There is! sent hither by the great Apollo, Who in the world's bright eye and every day Set in his Car of light, surveys the earth From East to West: who finding every place Fruitful in nothing but fantastic follies, And most ridiculous humours, as he is The God of Physique, thought it appertained To him to find a cure to purge the earth Of ignorance and sin, two grand diseases, And now grown Epidemical: many Receits He thought upon, as to have planted Hellebore In every Garden—But none pleased Like this. He takes out water from the Muses spring, And sends it to the North, there to be freezed Into a Crystal—That being done, he makes, A Mirror with it: and instills this virtue, That it should by reflection show each man All his deformities both of soul and body. And cure they both— Nor is the Glass of so short life I fear As this poor labour—our distrustful Author Thinks the same Sun that rose upon her cradle Will hardly set before her funeral: Your gracious and kind acceptance may Keep her alive from death, or when she's dead Raise her again, and spin her a new thread.