CELESTINA

Elicia, what will you give me for my good news? Knowest thou not, Parmeno, that it is and absolute folly, or mere simplicity to bewail that, which by wailing cannot be helped? Good chance attend you. We l hast thou said; I hold with thee, and jump in thy opinion; thy words have well pleased me, we cannot err. Yet notwithstanding (my son) it is necessary, that a good Proctor should follow his Clients cause diligently and painfully; that he colour his plea with some feigned show of reason; that he press some quillet or quirk of Law; to go and come into open Court, though he be checked, and receive some harsh words from the Jud ges mouth, to the end that they who are present, may both see and say, that though he did not prevail, yet he both spoke and labour read hard for his fee. So shall not he want Clients, nor Celestina suitors in cases of Love. Without my plumes, my son? Now by my say, in and ill hour had I needs of thee to be my companion. As though thou couldst instruct Celestina in her own Trade? As if I knew not better what to do, then thou canst teach me? Before ever thou wast born, I did eat bred with crust. Oh! you are a proper man to make a Commander, and to marshal oh there men's affairs, when thy self art so dejected with sinister divi nations, and fear of ensuing harms. By your leave, sweet Beauty. My wants, Madame? My necessities do you mean? Nay, others (as I told you) not mine. For mine own, I pass at home with my self in mine own house, without letting the whole Country to know them: Eating when I may, and drinking when I can get it. For, for all my poverty, I never wanted a penny to buy me bred, nor a Quart, that is, the eighth partly of six pence to send for wine, no, not in all this time of my widowhood. For before, I never took thought for any, but had always a good Vessel still in my house. And when one was empty, another was full. I never went to bed, but I did first eat a toast well steeped in wine, and two dozen of draughts, sipping still the wine after every sop, for fear of the Mother, wherewith I was then wont to be troubled. But now, that I husband all things my self, and am at mine own finding, I am feign to fetch my with e in a little poor Jar, which will scarce hold a pot le. And sometime in punishment of my sins (which Cross I am willing to bear) I am forced to go six times a day with these my silver hairs about my shoulders, to fill and fetch my wine my self at the Tavern. Nor would I by my good will die, till I see my self have a good Roundlet or Terse of mine own within mine own dootes. For (on my life) there is no provision in the world Like unto it. For as the saying is; It is bred and wine, not the young man that is spruce and fine, that makes us rid the way, and travel with mettle; yet let me tell you, that where the good man is missing, all other good is wanting. For ill does the spindle move, when the beard does not wag above. And this I thought good to tell you by the way, upon those speeches which I used concerning others, and not mine own necessities. Troy stood out more stoutly, and held out longer. And many fiercer Dams have I tamed in my days; Tush? No storm lasteth long. Marry, a certain Charm, Madame, which (as he is informed by many of his good friends) your Ladyship hath, which cureth the toothache; as also that same admirable Girdle of yours, which is reported to have been found and brought from Cumae the Cave there, and was worn, it's thought, by the Sibilla, or Prophetess of that place; which Girdle they say, hath such a sin gular and peculiar property and power, with the very touch to abate and ease any ache or anguish whatsoever. Now this Gentle man I told you of, is exceedingly pained with the toothache, and even at death's door with it. And this was the true cause of my coming: But since it was my ill hap to receive so harsh and un pleasing and answer, let him still for me continue in his pain, as a pu nishment endue unto him, for sending so unfortunate a messenger. For since in that muchness of your virtue I have found much of your pity wanting; I fear me, he would also want water, should he send me to the Sea to fetch it. And you know (sweet Lady) that the delight of vengeance, and pleasure of revenge endureth but a moment, but that of pity and compassion continueth for ever and ever. Never let me pray: or if I pray, let me never be herd, if you can draw any other thing from me, though I were to be put to a thousand torments. You are my good Lady and Mistress, you may say what you list, and it is my duty to hold my peace; you must come manned, and I must obey, but your rough language (I hope) will cost your Ladyship and old petticoat. Marry I say (Madame) That we both give you thanks, that we are both at your service; and rest both deeply indebted to your Ladyship; and that the payment is there most certain, where the party is most bound to satisfy. Daughter Lucrecia; Hold thy peace; Come hither to me. If to morrow I may see thee at my house, I will give thee such a Lie, as shall make thy hair as yellow as gold; but tell not your Mistress of it. Thou shalt also have a powder of me to sweeten thy breath, which is a little of the strongest. There is not any in this kingdom, that can make it but my self. And there is not any thing in a woman that can be worse then a stinking breath. And yet (you fool) you will be talking and prating against me. Hold thy peace; for thou knowest not what needs thou mayest have of me. Do not exasperate your Mistress, and make her more angry now, then she was before. But let me go hence in peace. Mad me, I endured your chiding with fear, because I knew you were angry with reason. Beside, a fit of anger is but Like a flash of lightning; which made me the more willing to give way, till your heat were overpassed. What sayest thou Sempronio? Whom dost thou talk to? Goest thou gnawing of my skirts? What is that thou grumblest at? Why comest thou not forward? I, good hope; and well may it be called so, since that the gates are set open for my second return. And shall I tell you? she will sooner receive me in this poor tottered Gown and Kirtle, then others in their silks, and cloth of gold. The greatest glory, which is given to that secret office of the Be, which little creature of nature, the discreeter sort ought to imitate, is, that whatsoever be touches, he converteth it into a better substance, then in it self it was. In Like manner hath it so befallen me, with those coy and squeamish speeches of Melibea, and all other her scornful and disdainful behaviours; all her sour looks and words I turned into honey; her anger into mild ness; her fury into gentleness; and her running from me, into run ning to me. Tell me, man, What didst thou think Celestina went thither for? What would she make there, whom you have already rewarded beyond her desert, unless it were to pacify her fury, to oppose my self to all accidents, to be your shield and buckler in your absence, to receive upon my mantle all the blows that were struck at you, to endure those revilings, bitter tauntings, and those disdainful terms, which, such as she is, usually make show of, when they are first sued unto for their love. And why forsooth do they this? Only to the end, That what they give, may the better be esteemed; and therefore, they still speak worst of him, whom they love best; and make a show of most dislike, where they Like most. Which if it should not be so, there would be no difference between the love of a common whore, and and honest Damsel that sta is upon her honour; if every one should say yea, as soon as she is asked. And therefore, when they see a man loves them (though themselves burn, and fry in the liveliest flames of love) yet for more esties sake, they will outwardly show a coldness of affection, a sober countenance, a pleasing kind of strangeness, a constant mind, a chaste intent, and pour forth words as sharp as Vinegar, that their own tongues wonder at this their great sufferance, ma king them forcibly to confess that with their mouths, whose con trary is contained in their hearts. But because I would have thee have some ease of thy sorrows, and take some repose, while I re late at large unto thee all the words that passed between her and me, and by what means I made my first entrance into Melibea's house; Know for thy comfort, that the end of her discourse was we ry good. With all my heart, Sir, Come, let us go. Under my mantle (noble Sir?) Alack, poor soul as I am, what would you have done there? Why, she must needs have seen you at least thorough thirty holes, should not fortune give me a better. Sir, do not stop me in the course of my speech. Give me leave to go on, for night draws on. And you know, He that does ill, hates the light. Give me Albricias; reward me for my good news, and I will tell you all. Give but this poor old woman a Mantle, and I will give that into thy hand, which she wears about her. Oh! in your dreams; that's another matter. You have punishment, Sir, enough already; for when oh the take their rest in their beds, thou preparest thy self to suffer thy next days torment. Be of good courage, Sir. Pluck up your heart: after a Tempest, follows a Calm; afford thy desire some time; take unto thee this Girdle: for if death prevent me not, I will deliver the Owner thereof into thy hands. Cease (good Sir) this vain and idle humour; for my ears are tired with attention, and the Girdle almost worn out with your often handling. She hath not given it me yet. The shortness of time; and therefore willed me that if your pain did not decrease, I should return to her again to morrow. Sir, put a perjod to your words, trouble your self no more; for this chain which shackles thee, is not so strong, but my file is as sharp to cut it in sunder, which I will do for thee, that thou mayest be at liberty. And therefore give me now licence to take my leave of you; For it grows very late; and let me have the gir dle a ng with me. For you know, I must needs use it. Son, no more. For mine eyes already run over, and my tears begin to break over those banks, which should bound them in. Oh! had I in all this world, but such another friend? Such another companion? Such a Comfort tress in my troubles? Such and easer, and lightner of my hearts hea uinesse? Who did supply my wants? Who knew my secrets? To whom did I discover my heart? Who was all my happiness, and quietness, but thy mother? She was nearer and dearer unto me, then my gossip, or mine own sister. Oh! how well-favored was she, and cheerful of countenance? How lusty? How quick? How neat? How portly and majestical in her gate? How stout and manly? Why, she would go you at midnight without or pain, or fear, from Churchyard, to Churchyard, seeking for imple ments appertaining to our Trade, as if it had been day. Nor did she omit either Christians, Moors, or Jews, whose Graves and Sepul chres she did not visit. By day she would watch them, and by night she would dig them out; taking such things as should serve her turn. So that she took as great pleasure in darkness of the night, as thou dost comfort in the brightness of the day. She would usum Alley say; that the night was the sinful men cloak, that did hide and cover all his rogueries, that they might not be seen, though per haps she had not the Like dexterity and skill in all the rest of those tricks that apperta ̄ ined to her Trade: yet one thing shall I tell thee, because thou shall see what a mother thou hast lost, though I was a bout to keep it in; but it makes no matter, it shall out to thee. She did pull out seven teeth out of a fellows head that was hanged, with a pair of Pincers, such as you pull out stubbed hairs withal; whilst I did pull off his shoes. She was excellent at a Circle, and would enter it far better then my self, and with greater boldness, though I also was very famous for it in those days, more I wiss, then I am now; who have together with her, lost almost my cun ning. What shall I say more unto thee, but that the very Devils themselves did live in fear of her? She did hold them in horror, and dread, making them to tremble and quake, when she began to exercise her exorcisms, her spells, her incantations, her charms, her conjurations, and other words of most horrisonous roaring, and most hideous noise. She was as well known to them all, as the beggar knows his dish; or as thy self in thine own house. One Devil coming tumbling in upon the neck of another, as fast, as it pleased her to call them up, and not one of them durst tell her a lie; such power had she to bind them: so that ever since she died, I could never attain to the truth of any thing. Parmeno, may this woman no better thrive, then she pleases me with those her wordy praises. One, I assure you, that means you no ill; one that ne ver treads step, but she thinks on thy profit; one that is more mindful of thee, then of her self; one that loves thee as her life, though I am now grown old. What? To bed with the Hen, daughter? So soon to roost? you for shame; Is this the way to thrive? Think you ever to be rich, if you go to bed so timely? Come, walk a turn or two, and talk with me a little; let others bewail their wants, not thou. Herbs feed them that gather them. Who but would, if he could, lead such a life? Nay, by my faith shall you not; but if you will go in to your bed, do; and so shall we talk more conveniently toga there. Oh! take heed, great wrong, I promise you. What? Is this your fashion? Is this the manner of your carriage? And you use these niceties, you shall never have a house with a double room, but live Like a beggar all the days of your life. What? are you afraid of our Sweetheart now he is absent? What would you then do, were he now in Town? It hath ever been my ill fortune, to give counsel unto fools, such as cannot see their own good; say what I will, they will err; still stand in their own light. But I do not much wone der at it; For though the world be wide, yet there are but few wise in it. Great is the largeness of the earth, but small the number of those that have experience. Would, daughter! Did you but see your cousin's wisdom, or but know what benefit my breeding, and counsel hath brought her, how cunning, how witty, and what a Mistress in her art; you would be of another mind; say, what I will unto her, she patiently endures my reprehensions, she hear kens to my advice, and does all what I will have her do; she will sometime boast, that she hath at one time had one in bed with her; another waiting at the door; and a third sighing for her within the house; and yet hath given good satisfaction to them all. And art thou afraid, who hast but two to deal with all; Can one cock fill all thy Cisterns? One conduit-pipe water all thy Court? If this be your diet, you may chance to rise a hungered, you shall have no meat left against another time; I will not rend your fragments; I cannot live upon scraps; One could never please me; I could never place all my affection upon one; two can do more then one; they give more, and they have more to give. It goes hard (Daughter) with that Mouse, that hath but one hold to trust to; for if that be stopped, she hath no means to hide her self from the Cat: he that hath but one eye, you see in what danger he goes? One sole Act makes not a Habit. It is a rare, and strange thing to see a Partridge fly single; to feed always upon one dish, brings a loathing to the stomach; one Swallow makes not a Sum mere; one witness alone is of no validity in Law. He that hath but one suit of clothes, and she that hath but one gown to her back, quickly wears them out. What would you do (daughter) with this number of one? Many more inconveniences can I tell thee of this single soale number (if one may be a number.) If you be wise, be never without two; for it is a laud ble and commendable come pany, as you may see it in your self; who hath two ears, two feet, and two hands; two sheets upon one bed; and two smocks where with to shift you; and the more you have, the better it is for you; for still, (as it is in the Proverb) The more Moors, the better market; and honour without profit, is no other but as a Ring up on the finger. And because one Sack cannot hold them both, apply your self to your profit, Son Parmeno, come up. No, I am not angry, I do but tell you this against a neither time, that you may beware you do so no more. And so good night, for I will be gone, I will get me away alone by my self. Thou art in the right, my girl; I will take no care for you, you will shift for your self; I perceive you know what you do, you needs not to be told on which side your bred is but tread, you are no baby, I see: and wise men tell us, that better is a crust of bred, and a cup of cold water with peace and quietness, then a house full of dainties, with brabbling and wrangling. But now let us leave this argument, for here comes Lucrecia. Of these petty griefs, the report is more then the pain. Is't about the heart, say you? I marvel (I promise you) that so young a Gentlewoman as she is, should be pained at the heart. I see (Lady) that on the one side you complain of your grief, and on the other side, I perceive, that you fear your remedy, your fear strikes a fear into me; which fear causeth si lence, and silence truce betwixt your malady and my medicine; so that you self will be the cause that your pain shall not cease, nor my cunning cure you. I cannot tell (Lady) I did not well hear her. But let her say what she will; yet let me tell you: That there is not any thing more contrary in great Cures, before strong & stouthearted Sur geons, then weak & fainting hearts, who with their great lamen tations, their pitiful words, and their sorrowful gestures strike a fear into the patient, make him despair of his recovery, and anger and trouble the Surgeon, which trouble makes him to altar his hand, and direct his needle without clearly know, that it is very necessary your , that there be no body about you, no, not so much as . And therefore, it is very meet, that you command her absence daughter Lucre cia, you must pardon me. Without any rupture, or renting of your garments, love did lance your breast; and therefore will not sunder your flesh, to ure your soar. Sweet Love. Calisto. Oh Madame; Malibea; ah woe is me, why woe man, what mean you? What a cowardly heart have you? What a fainting is here? Oh miserable that I am, hold up your head, I pray lift it up; Oh accursed old woman! Must my steps end this? If she go way in a swoon, they will kill me; if she revive, she will be much pained: For she will never endure to publish her pain, nor give me leave to exercise my cure. Why, Melibea, my sweet Lady; my fair Angel; What's the matter, Sweetheart? Where is your grief? why speak you not unto me? What is be come of your gracious and pleasing speech? Where is that cheer full colour, that was wont to beautify your cheeks? Open those brightest Lamps, that ever nature tinded: Open your eyes, I say, those furnes, that are able to give light to darkness. Lucrecia, Lucrecia, Come hither quickly; come quickly, I say, you shall see your Lady lie here in a swoon in my arms; run down quick lie for a Jar e of water. Ay me! Sweet Lady, do not sink any more: speak, speak unto me as you were wont. I wanted yesterday a little of my weight in the thread I sold, and now I am come (according to my promise) for to make it up. And now that I have delivered it, I am going away. Jove have you in his good keeping. Who is that names Celestina? What sayest thou of this slave of Calisto's? I have come trudging all along the Aug rs street, to see if I could overtake you, I did put my best leg foremost, but all would not do: the skirts of my Petticoat were so long, and did so often interfold themselves between my feet. Sir, let us first go more privately; and as we go home to your house, I will tell you that, which shall make you glad indeed. All this day, Sir, have I been labouring in your busi ness, and have neglected other weighty and serious affairs, which did much concern me: many do I suffer to live in pain, only that I may yield you comfort. Beside, I have lost more by it, then you are aware of, but farewell it. All is well lost, since I have brought my business to so good and end: And hear you me, for I will tell it you in few words (for I love to be short) Melibea is who lie at your service. Yes, and that upon her very knees. Sir, you are in the right, and these in the wrong; oh uer-lading their thoughts with vain suspicions and jealousy's; I have done all that I was enjoined: and so I leave you to your joys. Good Angels defend you and direct you: as for my self, I am very well satisfied. And if you shall have further occasion to use me, either in this particular, or any thing else, you shall find me ever ready to do you the best service I can. Than, ta, ta. Daughter Elicia, open the door. The pocks canker out my carcase to death, if thou makest me not afraid to look on thee, thou lookest so fierce and so ghastly. But for all this, I do believe you do but jest. Tell me, I pray thee Sempronio, as thou lovest me what hath befallen you? If you are angry either with your selves, your Master, or your arms, wreck not your wrath upon me; for I wot well enough whence all this grows, I wind you where you are: I now perceive on which foot you halt, not out of want of that which you demand; nor out of any covetousness that is in you: but because you think I will tie you to Rack and Manger, and make you captain ves all your lifetime to Elicia, and Areusa, and provide you no other fresh beware, you make all this ado, quarrel thus with me for more ney, and seek by fearing me, to force me to a parting and sharing of stakes. But be still (my boys) and content your selves; for she who could help you with these, will not stick to furnish you with half a score of handsome wenches apiece, fairer then these by far, now that I see, that you are grown to greater knowledge and more reason, & a better deseruingnesse in your selves. And whither or no, in such a case as this, I am able to be as good as my word, let Par meno speak for me. Speak, speak, Parmeno, be not ashamed, man, to tell what did betide us, with what wench you wot of, that was sick of the Mother? Elicia, Elicia, arise and come down quickly, and bring me my mantle; for by heaven, I will hie me to the Justice, and there cry out and rail at you, Like a made woman. What is't you would have? What do you mean, to menace me thus in mine own house? Shall your valour and your bravings be exercised on a poor silly innocent sheep? On a Hen, that is tied by the leg, and cannot fly from you? On and old woman of sixty years of age? Get you, get you, for shame, amongst men, such as your selves; go and reak your anger upon such as are girded with the Sword, and not against me and my poor weak Distaff; it is and infallible note of great cowardice, to assail the weak and such as have but small, or very little poor to resist: your filthy Flies bite none but lean and feeble Oxen: and your barking Curs fly with greater eager ness, and more open mouth upon your poorest passengers. If she that lies above there in the bed, would have hearkened unto me, this house should not have been (as now it is) without a man in the night; nor we have slept (as we do) by the naked shadow of a candle. But to pleasure you, and to be faithful unto you, we suf fer this solitude; and because you see we are women, and have no body here to oppose you, you prate, and talk, and ask, I know not what, without any reason in the world, which you would as soon have been hanged, as once dared to have proffered it, if you had herd but a man stirring in the house; for, as it is in the Proverb, A hard adversary appeaseth anger. Justice, Justice; help neighbours, Justice, Justice; for here be Ruffians, that will murder me in my house. Murder, murder, murder. O, o, o! Why? What's the matter? Put him in the little chamber where the besoms be. Quickly, quickly, I say, and tell him a cousin of yours, and a friend of mine is come to see you. My son, my king, thou hast ravished me with thy pre sense, I am so overjoyed, that I cannot speak to thee; Turn thee about unto me, and embrace me once more in thine a . so long away together, and here? , daughter? 1 paragraph Come hither (my son) come along with me, let this fool alone, for she is idleheaded, and almost out of her little wits; such thought hath she taken for thy abs nce. Regard not what she says, for she will tell you a thousand film-flame tales; Come, come with me, and let us talk. Let us not spend the time thus in idlements. Would you know who? A Wench recommended unto me by a Fryer. Oh, by no means. Lord, how earnest you be? you would die now, if you should not know him; Well, to save your longing, it is that fat Friars Wench: I needs say no more. You see, we women must bear all, and it were greater we you have seen but few murders commit upon a women in And Jove (my good son) share his good blessings with thee, which ( so it p ease him) he shall not do without cause; be cause thou takest pity of this poor wicked old woman: say on there before, make no longer delay; for that friendship, which betwixt thee and me hath taken such deep rooting, needs no Preambles, no cirum urions, no preparations or insinuation to win affection: Be brief therefore and come to the point; for it is idle to utter that in many words, that may be understood in a few. Well hast thou said: I perceive thy drift. The winking or beckoning on the eye is enough for me, for as old as I am, I see day this thy news, as Surgeons of broken- And Delayed hope afflict the heart, And the farther he is off from obtaining, the fairer will be promise to have it effe cted. Understand you me. Knock. Soft: me thinks I hear some body on the stairs; they are now coming down: Sempronio, make as though you did not hear them: stand close, and litten what they say; and let me alone to speak for us both. And thou shalt see how I and somely I will handle the matter, both for thee and me. Trouble me no more, I say, leave importuning me; for to overcharge one, who is heavy enough already laden with pain, and uish, were to spur a sick beast. Alas, poor soul, me thinks so possessed with thy Master's pain, and so affected with his affliction, that Sempronio seems to be Calisto; and Calisto, to be Semp onio; and that both your torments are both but in one and the same subject. Beside, I would have you think, that I came not hither to leave this controversy undecided, but will die rather in the demand and pursuit of this my purpose, then not see his desire accomplished. Be silent: For I swear by my holy-doom, that whi there comes the Ass, thither also shall come the saddle. Let me alone to deal with Parmeno, and you shall see, I will so temper him e'r I have done with him, that I will make him wholly ours. And see what we gain, he shall share with us: for goods that are not common, are not goods; It is communication that makes combina cion in love: and therefore let us all gain, let us all divide the spoil, and let us laugh and be merry all alike. I will make the slave so tame, and so gentle, that I will bring him Like a bird to pick bred from my first. And so we will be two to two, and all three join to cozen the fourth. Thou and I will join together, Parmeno shall make a third, and all of us cheat Calisto. Sempronio; Can fair words make me the fatter? Can I live by this? Those bones which I have already gnawn, does this fool thy Master think to feed me therewith? Sure the man dreams; when he comes to fry his eggs, he will then find what is wanting. Bid him shut his mouth, and open his purse: I miss doubt his words, much more his works. Holla, I say; are you so tick lish? I will curry you for this gear, you lame Ass: you must rise a little more early, if you mean to go beyond me. Believe me ( Parmeno ) I am very glad, that we have lighted on so fit and opportunity, wherein I may manifest and make known unto thee the singular love, wherewithal I affect thee; and what great interest (though undeservedly) thou hast in me, I say unde servedly, in regard of that, which I have herd thee speak against me: whereof I make no more reckoning, but am content to let it pass. For, virtue teaches us to suffer temptations, and not to ren der, evil for evil; and especially when we are tempted by young men, such as want experience, and are not acquainted with the cour ses of the world, who out of and ignorant and foolish kind of loyal ty, undo both themselves and their Master's, as thou thy self dost, Calisto. I herd you well enough, not a word you said, that escaped mine care. Nor do you think, that with these my other outward sen ses, old age hath made me loose my hearing; for not only that which I see, hear, and know, but even the very inward secrets of thy heart and thoughts, I search into, and pierce to the full with these my in tellectuall eyes, these eyes of my understanding. I would have thee to know ( Permeno ) that Calisto is lovesick, sick even to the death. Nor art thou for this, to censure him to be a weak and foolish man: for unresistable love subdueth all things. Beside, I would have thee to know, if thou knowest it not already, that there are these two con clusions, that are evermore infallibly true. The first is, that every man must of force love a woman, and every woman love a man. The second is, that he who truly loves, must of necessity be much troubled & moved with the sweetness of that superexcellent delight, w changed was ordained by him that made all things, for the perpetuating of mankind, without which, it must needs perish: and not only in hu mane kind, but also in fish, birds, beasts, & all creatures that creep and crawl upon the earth; Likewise in your souls vegetative, some plants have the same inclination & disposition, that without the in terpositio ̄ of any other thing, they be planted in some little distance one of another, and it is determined and agreed upon by the gene rall-consent of your Gardeners, and husbandmen, to be Make and Female. How can you answer this, Parmeno? Now my pretty fool, you mad wag, my souls sweet Genius, my Pea le, well, my honest poor silly Lad, my pretty little Monkey-face, come hither you little whoreson; Alack, how I pity thy simp licity! thou knowest nothing of the world, nor of it's delights. Let me run mad, and die in that fit, if I suffer thee to come near me, as old as I am. Thou hast a harsh and ill favoured hoarse voice, by thy brizzled beard, it is easily guest what manner of man you are. Tell me, is all quiet beneath? No motions at all to make in Venus Court? It were well, and it were no worse. Laughest thou, thou pocky rogue? Thou weepest in vain for that, which cannot by we ping be avoided; thou canst not turn the istreame of his violent passion; and therefore mayest truly presume that he is passed all re, Tell me ( Parmeno ) hath not the Like happened to others, as well as to him? Oh thou wicked villain! How Idly dost thou talk, as if thou didst not understand thy self? It seems thou dost not know his disease; What hast thou hitherto said? What wouldst thou have? What is't that grieves you, Sir? Why lamentest thou? Be you disposed to jest, and make your self merry? or are you in good earnest, and wouldst feign face out truth with falsehood? Be leave you what you list; I am sure he is sick, and that in Act, and that the Power to make him whole, lies wholly in the hands of this weak old woman. Now the Hangman be thy ghostly father, my little ras call, my pretty villain; how darest thou be so bold with me? And who art thou? Good Lord, and art thou Parmeno, Claudina's son? Now the fire of the pocks consume thy bones; for thy mother was and old whore, as my self: Why dost thou persecute me, Parmeno? It is he in good truth, it is he. Come hither unto me; come I say; many a good jerk, and many a cuff on the ear have I given thee in my days, and as many kisses too. A you lit tle rogue, dost thou remember, sirrah, when thou layest at my beds feet? A pocks on you for a rogue. Our (impudent!) art thou not ashamed to talk thus? But to leave off all jesting, and to come to plain earnest; Hear me now (my child) and Harken what I shall say unto thee. For, though I am called hither for one end, I am come for another. And albeit I have made my self a stranger unto thee, and as though I knew thee not, yet thou wast the only cause that drew me hither. My son, I am sure thou art not ignorant, how that your mother gave you un to me, your father being then alive; who, after thou wentest from me, died of no other grief, save only what she suffered for the un certainty of thy life and person. For whose absence in those latter years of her elder age, she led a most painful, pensive and care full life. And when the time came, that she was to leave this world, she sent for me, and in secret recommended thee unto me, and told me, (no other witness being by, but heaven the witness to our works, our thoughts, our hearts, whom she alone interpo e between her and me) that of all loves I should do so much , as to make inquiry after thee, and when I had found thee, thee up, & foster thee as mine own: and that as soon as thou come to men estate, & Wertenberg able to know how to govern thy self, and to live in some good manner and fashion; that then I should discover unto thee a certain place, where, under many a lock and key, she hath left thee more store of Gold and Silver, then all the revenues come to, that thy Master Calisto hath in his poss sion. And because I solemnly vowed, and bound my self by pro mice unto her, that I would see her desire, as far forth as lay in me, to be well and truly performed, she peacefully departed this mor tall life; and though a men faith ought to be inviolably observed both to the living and the dead, yet more especially to the dead; for they are not able to do any thing of themselves, they cannot come to me, and prosecute their right here upon earth. I have spent much time & money in inquiring & searching after thee, & could never till now hear what was become of thee: and it is not above three days since, that I first herd of your being, and where you abided. Verily, it hath much grieved me, that thou hast gone travelling, & wandering throughout the world, as thou hast done from place, to place, lo sing thy time, without either gain of profit, or of friends. For, (as Seneca says) Travellers have many ends, and few friends. For, in so short a time they can never fasten friendship with any: and he that is every where, is said to be no where. Again, that meat can not benefit the body, which is no sooner eaten, then ejected. Nei there does any thing more hinder it's health, then your diversities, and changes of meats. Nor does that would come to be healed, which hath daily change of tents, and never plasters. Nor does that Tree never prove, which is often transplanted and removed from one ground to another. Nor is there any thing to profitable, which at the first sighed brings profit with it Therefore (my good son) leave off these violences of youth, and following the doctrine, and rule of thy Ancestors, return unto reason, settle thy self in some one place or other. And where better, then where I shall advise thee, taking me, and my counsel along with thee, to whom thou art re commended both by thy father and mother? And I, as if I were thine own true mother, say unto thee, upon those curses and ma ledictions, which thy parents have laid upon thee, if thou shouldst be disobedient unto me, that yet a while thou continue here, and serve this thy Master which thou hast got thee, till thou hearest further from me, but not with that foolish loyalty, and ignorant honesty, as hitherto thou hast done; thinking to find firmness upon a false foundation, as most of these Master's now a days are. But do thou gain friends, which is a durable and lasting common dity; stick closely and constantly unto them; do not thou live upon Hope's, relying on the vain promises of Master's, who suck away the substance of their servants, with hollowhearted, and idle promises, as the horseleeches suck blood; and in the end fallen off from them, wrong them, grow forgetful of their good services, and deny them any recompense or reward at all. Woe be unto him that grows old in Court. The Master's of these times love more them selves then their servants; neither in so doing do they do amiss. The Like love ought servants to bear unto themselves. Liberality was lost long ago; rewards are grown out of date; magnificence is fled the country; and with her, all nobleness. Every one of them is wholly now for himself, and makes the best he can of his servants service, serving his turn, as he finds it may stand with his private interest and profit. And therefore they ought to do no less, since that they are less then they in substance, but to live after their law, and to do as they do. My son Parmeno, I the rather tell thee this, because thy Master (as I am informed) is (as it seems likewise unto me) a Rompenecios, one that befools his servants, and wears them out to the very stumps, looks for much service at their hands, and makes them small, or no recompense: He will look to be served of all, but will partly with nothing at all. Weigh well my words, and persuade thy self, that what I have said is true: Get thee some friends in his house, which is the grea test, and preciousest Jewel in the world. For, with him thou must not think to fasten friendship. A thing seldom seen, where there is such difference of estate and condition, as is between you two. Opportunity, thou seest, now offers her self unto us, on whose foretop, if we will but take hold, we shall all of us be great gainers, and thou shalt presently have something, wherewithal to help thy self. As for that which I told you of, it shall be well and safely kept, when time shall serve; in the mean while, it shall be much for thy profit, that thou make Sempronio thy friend. Marry, Sir, but so would I: right, or wrong, so as my house may be raised high enough, I care not. Oh my son! it is a true saying; that Wisdom cannot be but only in aged persons. And thou art but young. But tell me, I pray thee, whom does fortune more and vance, then those that be bold and venturous? Beside, who is he, that comes to any thing in a Commonwealth, who hath resolved with himself to live without friends? But (heaven be thanked) thou hast wealth enough of thine own, yet thou knowest not what need thou mayest have of friends for the better keeping of them. Nor do thou think, that this thy inwardness with thy Master can a nigh way secure thee. For the greater a men fortune is, the less secure it is; and then most ticklish, when most prosperous. And there before, to be armed against misfortunes, we must arm our selves with friends. And where canst thou get a fitter, nearer, and better come panion in this kind, then where those three kind of friendships do concur in one? To wit, goodness, profit, and pleasure. For goodness; behold the good will of Sempronio, how agreeable, and conformable it is to thine: and with it, the great similiancy, and suteablenesse, which both of you have in virtue: For profit; That lies in this hand of mine, if you two can but agree together: For pleasure, That likewise is very likely. For now you are both in the prime of your years, young and lusty, and fit for all kind of sports and pleasures whatsoever; wherein young men, more then old folks, do join and link together: as in gaming, in wearing good clothes, in jesting, in eating, in drinking and wenching together. Oh Parme no! if thou thy self wouldst, what a life might we lead? Even as merry as the day is long. Sempronio, he loves Elteia, Kinswoman to Areusa. I, to Areusa. To Areusa, the daughter of Eliso. Most certain. But tell me man, Dost thou Like her? Well, now I know thy mind, let me alone. Here's my hand; I will give her thee. Thou shalt have her; Man, she is thine own, as sure as a Club. He is unwise, that will believe all men; And he is in and error, that will believe no man. Alas, poor silly wretch; fainthearted is he that dares not venture for his good. Jove gives nuts to them, that have no teeth to crack them. And beans to those, that have no jaws to chew them. Simple as thou art, thou mayest truly say, Fools have fortune: for it is commonly seen, that they who have least wise dome have most wealth: and that they who have the most discre cion, have the least means. There is no wisdom in thy words; For, without compa nigh, there is no pleasure in the possession of any thing. Do not thou then draw back, do not thou torment and vex thy self. For, Nature shuns whatsoever favours of sadness; and desires that which is pleasant and delightsome. And delight is with friends, in things that are sensual; but especially in recounting matters of love, and communicating them, the one to the other. This did I do my self; this such a one told me; such a jest did we break; in this sort did I win her; thus often did I kiss her: thus often did she bite me; thus I embraced her; thus came we nearer and nee rer. Oh what speech, what grace what sport, what kisses! Let us go thither, Let us return hither, Let us have music, Let us paint Mote to's, Let us sing songs, Let us invent some pretty devices; Let us tilt it; What shall be the Impress? What the letter to it? To morrow she will walk abroad; Let us round her street; Read this her Letter; Let us go by night; Hold thou the ladder; Guard well the gate; How did she escape thee? Look, where the Cuckold her husband goes; I left her all alone; Let us give and other turn; Let us go back again thither. And is there any de light ( Parmeno ) in all this, without company? By my say, by my say, they that have trial can tell you, that this is the delight, this is the only pleasure; As for that other thing you wot of, your Asses have a better, and can do better then you, or the best of you all. What is reason, you fool? What is affection, you Ass? (which thou hast not) must determine that; And gives the upper hand to prudence; and prudence cannot be without experience; and experience cannot be found but in old folks, and such as are well strucken in years. And therefore we are called father's, and mother's; and good parents do all ways give their children good council: as I more especially now do thee; whose life and credit, I prefer before mine own. And when, or how, canst thou be able to requite this my kindness e? For, Parents and Tutors can never receive any recompense, that may equal their desert Wilt thou not entertain it? Well, I will then tell thee, He that wilfully refuseth council, shall suddenly come to destru ction. And so ( Parmeno ) I rid my self of thee, as also of this business. It is proper to a man to err; but to a beast, to persevere in and error. It does much glad me, Parmeno, that thou hast cleared thosee thick clouds, which darkened thy eyesight, and hast answer read me according to the wisdom, discretion, and sharp wit of thy father, whose person, now representing it self fresh to my re membrance, does make my tender eyes to melt into tears, which thou feest in such abundance to trickle down my cheeks. He some times would maintain hard and strange propositions, but would presently (such was the goodness of his nature) see his error, and embrace the truth I swear unto thee; that in thus seeing thee to thwart the truth, and then suddenly upon it, laying down all contra diction, and to be conformable to that which was reason; me thinks, I do as lively now behold thy father: as if he now were living, and present here before me. Oh what a man he was, how proper in his person, how able in his actions, what a partly did he bear, and what a veneral and reverend countenance did he carry! But hush, I hear Calisto coming, and thy new friend, Sempronio, whose re concilement with him, I refer to some fitter opportuni y. For, two living in one heart, are more powerful both for Actium, and understanding. As in your finest gold, that is wrought by the hand of your cunningest and curiosest Artificer, the workmanship oftentimes does far surpass the matter: So the fashion of your fair liberality does much exceed the greatness of your gift. And questionless, a kindness that is quickly conferred, redoubles it's effect; for he that slacketh that, which he promises, seems in a manner to de nigh it, and to repent himself of his promised favour. How now, son? What news with you? There is nothing more proper to Lovers, then impati ence Every small tarriance, is to them a great torment; the least de lay breeds dislike; In a moment what they imagine, must be full lie effected; nay, concluded before begum ne; especially these new Lovers, who against any luring whatsoever, fly out to check, they care not whither, without any aduiseme ̄ to in the world, or once thin king on the harm which the meat of their desire may (by over king) occasion unto them, intermingled amid the affairs and concerning their own persons, and their servants. The first, (my son?) Few virgins (I thank Fortune for it) hast thou seen in this City, which have opened their shops, and traded for themselves, to whom I have not been a broaker to their first spun thread, and help them to vent their wares; there was not that wench born in the world, but I writ her down in my Register, and kept a Catalogue of all their names, to the intent that I might know how many escaped my net. Why, what didst thou think of me, Parmeno? Can I live by the air? Can I feed my self with wind? Do I inherit any other land? Have I any other house or Vineyard? Knowest thou of any other substance of mine, beside this office? By what do I eat and drink? By what do I find clothes to my back, and shoes to my feet? In this City was I born; in it was I bred; Living (though I say it) in good credit and estimation, as all the world knows. And dost thou think then, that I can go unknown? He that knows not both my name, and my house, thou mayest hold him a mere stranger. I told him his dream, and the interpretation thereof; and how that he should gain more by our company, and joining in friendship with us, then with all his gay g ozings, and imbroyde re works which he uttereth to his Master; How he would always live poor and in want, and be made a scoff and laughing stock, unless he would turn over a new leaf, and altar his opinion; that he should not make himself a Saint, and play the hypocrite before such and old beaten bitch as my self. I did put him in mind of his own mother relating unto him what a one she was, to the end that he might not set my office at nought, her self having been of the same Trade: for should he but offer to speak ill of me, he must needs stumble first on her. This Celestina, which is here now with thee, was the woe man that saw her born, and help to breed her up: why, I tell thee (man) his mother and I were nail, and flesh, buckle and thong; Of he I learned the better partly of my trade. We did both eat, both sleep, both enjoy our pleasures, our counsels, & our bargains, one with another; we lived together Like two sisters both at home and abroad: there was not a farthing which ey there of us gained, but was faithfully and truly divided between us. Had she lived, I should never have lived to be deceived. But it was not my fortune to be so happy, she died too soon for me. Oh death, death, how many dost thou deprive of their sweet and pleasing society! How many dost thou discomfort with thy un welcome and troublesome Visitation? For one that thou eatest be king ripe, thou croppest a thousand that are green; For were she alive, these my steps should not have been unaccompanied, not driven (as now I am) to walk the streets alone. I have good cause to remember her; for to me she was a faithful friend, and a good companion. And whilst she was with me; she would never suf fer me to trouble my body, or my brains about any thing: if I brought bred, she would bring meat; if I did spread the cloth, she would lay the napkins: she was not foolish, nor fantastical, nor proud, as most of your women now adais are. And by my say, I swear unto thee, she would go barefaced from one end of the City to the other, with her Fan in her hand, and not one, all the way that she went, would give her any worse word, then Mistress Clau dinam. And I dare be bold to say it, that there was not a woman of a better palate for wine in the world, nor better skilled in any kind of merchandise whatsoever. And when you have thought that she had been scarce out of doors, with a whip-Sir John, e'r you could scarce say this, she was here again. Every one would invite and feast her, so great was the affection which they bore unto her; And she never came home, till she had taken a taste of some eight or ten sorts of wine, bearing one pottle in her Jar, and the other in her bel lie: and her credit was so good, that they would have trusted her for a Roundlet or two upon her bore word, as if she had pawned unto them a piece of plate. Why, her word was as currant as gold, in all the Inns and Taverns in the Town. If we walked the streets, whensoever we found our selves thirsty, we entered straight the next Tavern that was at hand, and called presently for a quart of wine for to moisten our mouths withal, though we had not a penny to pay for it. Nor would they (as from others) take our vails and our coifs from off our heads, till we had discharged the reckoning, but score it up, and so let us go on our way. Oh Sempronio; Were it but Cat after kind, and that such were the son, as was the mother, assure thy self that thy master should remain without a feather, and we without any farther care. But if I live, I will bring this iron to my fashion; I will work him Like wax, and reckon him in the number of mine own. For such a crafty Knave, we must have a Knave and a half, and entertain two traitors for the taking of one. I will bring him to have Areusa, so and make him Cocksure ours; and he shall give us leave without any let, to pitch our nets, for the catch king of Calisto's coin. There is not that Surgeon, that can at the first dressing, give a true judgement of his Patients wound: but what I see, and think for the present, I will plainly deliver unto thee. Melibea is fair; Calisto found and frank; he cares not to spare his purse, nor I my pains; he is willing to spend, and I to speed him in his but sinesse; Let his money be stirring, and let the suit hang as long as it will. Money can do any thing; it splitteth hard Rocks; it passes over Rivers dryfoot; there is not any place so high, whereunto and Ass laden with gold will not get up; his unadvised ness, and ferventness of affection, is sufficient to mar him, and to make us. This I have thought upon; this I have searched into; this is all I know concerning him and her: and this is that which must make most for our profit. Well, now must I go to Pleberio's house. Sempronio, farewell. For though Melibea brave it, and stands so high upon her pantoffles; yet is not she the first that I have made to stoop, and leave her cackling; they are all of them ticklish, and skittish; the whole generation of them is given to winching & flin ging: but after they are well weighed, they prove good highway Jades, and travel quietly; you may kill them, but never Tyre them. If they journey by night, they wish it may never be morning. They curse the Cocks, because they proclaim it is day: the Clocks, because they go too fast: they lie prostrate, as if they looked after the Pleyades and the North star, making themselves Astronomers, and star gazers; But when they see the morning star arise, they sighs for sorrow, and are ready to forsake their bodies. And the clearing of the day, is the clouding of their joy. And above all, it is worth the while, to note how quickly they change copy, and turn the Cat in the pan; They entreat him, of whom they were entreated; they endure torment for him, whom before they had tormented; they are servants to those, whose Mistress's they were; they break thorough stone walls, they open windows, feyne sickness; if the hin ges of their doors chance to creak, they anoint and supple them with oil, that they may perform their office without any noise. I am not able to express unto thee the great impression of that sweetness, which the primary and first kisses of him they love, lea veth imprinted in their hearts. They are enemies of the mean, and wholly set upon extremes. Marry, I say, that a woman either loves, or hates him much, of whom she is beloved, so that, if she entertain not his love, she cannot dissemble her hate; there are no reins strong enough to bridle their dislike. And because I know this to be true, it makes me go more merrily and cheerfully to Melibea's house, then if I had her fast in my fist already. For I know, that though at the first I must be forced to woo her, yet in the end, she will be glad to sue to me. And though at present perhaps she threaten me, and flatly fallen out with me; yet at last will she be well pleased, and fallen as much a flattering, as she did a reviling me. Here in this pocket of mine, I carry a little parcel of yarn, and other such Like trinkets, which I all ways bear about me; that I may have some pretence at first to make my easier entrance and free access, where I am not thoroughly known: As Gorgets, Coifs, Fringes, Rolls, Fillets, Hair-laces, Nippers, Antimony, Ceruse, and sublimated Mercury, Needles and Pins; they shall not ask that thing, which I shall not have for them. To the end, that look whatsoever they shall call for, I may be ready provided for them. And this bait upon the first sighed thereof shall work my acceptance, and hold fast the fish which I mind to take. Peace, you fool. Let him alone. We have other thoughts (I with e) to trouble our heads withal; matters of more impor tance, then to listen to your trumperies. Tell me; Is the house ear? Is the young wench gone, that expected the young Novice? Sayest thou me so, Girl? I hope then it was not in vain. Go, hie you up quickly to the top of all the house, as high as you can go, and bring me down hither the bottle of that oil of Serpents, which you shall find fas ned to that piece of rope, which I brought out of the fields with me that other night, when it reigned so fast, and was so dark: then open my chest where the paintings be, and on your right hand you shall find a paper written with the blood of a Bat, or Flittermouse; bring it down also with you, ogether with that wing of the Dragon, whereof yesterday we did cut off the claws. And take heed, you do not shed the May dew, which was brought me for to make my confection. Do not reprove me, I pray thee, in mine old age; miss use me not, Elicia. Do not you feyne untruths, though Sempronio be ere, be not you proud of it. For he had rather have me for his counselor, then you for his playfellow, for all you love him so well. Enter into the chamber where my ointments be, and there in the skin of a black Cat, where I willed you to put the eyes of the she-wolf, you shall not fail to find it: and bring down the blood of the he Goat, and that little piece of his beard which you your self did cut off. I conjure thee (thou sad God Pluto) Lord of the infernal , Emperor of the damned court, Captain general and proud Counterfeit ̄ mander of the wicked spirits, Grand signor of those sulp ureous fires, which the flaming hills of Aetna flash forth in most fearful, and most hideous manner; Governor, and Supervisor both of the torments, and tormenters of those sinful souls, that lie bowling in Phlegeton; Prince, and chief Ruler of those three hellish Furies, Tesiphone, Meghera, and Alecto; Administrator of all the black things belonging to the kingdoms of Stix and Dis, with all their pitchy Lake's, infernal shades, and litigious Chaos; Maintainer of the flying Harpies, with all the whole rabblement of frightful High draes; I Celestine, thy best known, and most noted Client, conjure thee by the virtue and force of these read Letters, by the blood of this bird of the night, wherewith they are charactered, by the power and weight of these names and signs, which are contained in this paper, by the e and bitter poison of those Vipers, whence this oil was ex tracted, wherewith I anoint this ewe of yarn, thou come presently without delay to obey my will, to invelop, and wrap thy self therein, and there to abide, & never depart thence, no, not the least moment of time, until that Melibea, with that prepared opportunity, which shall be offered unto her, shall buy it of me, and with it, in such sort be entangled and taken, that the more she shall behold it, the more may her heart be mollified, and the sooner wrought to yield to my request: That thou wilt open her heart to my desire, and wound her very soul with the love of Calisto; and in that extreme, and violent manner, that despising all honesty, and casting off all shame, she may discover her self unto me, and reward both my message, and my pains; Do this, and I am at thy command, to do what thou wilt have me: But if thou do not do it, thou shalt forthwith have me thy Capital foe, and Professed enemy. I shall strike with light, thy sad and darksome dungeons; I shall cruelly accuse thy con tinuall lyings, and daily falsehoods. And lastly, with my charming words, and enchanting terms, I will chain and constringe thy most horrible name. Wherefore, again and again; once, twice, and thrice, I conjure thee to fulfil my command. And so presu ming on my great power, I depart hence, that I may go to her with my clew of yarn; wherein I verily believe, I carry thy self inwrapped. My love (daughter, my love) and the desire I have to see all my good friends; and to bring you commendations from your Cousin Elicia: as also to see my old and young Mistress, whom I have not seen since I went from this end of the Town. What greater profit (you fool) would you have, then a man to comply with his desires? Beside, such old women as we never want business: especially my self, who having the breeding of so many men's daughters as I have, I go to see if I can fell a little yarn. Madame, by my life, as I am true old woman, or by any other oath you shall put me to, it is such, as all the whole Town is not able to match it. Look well upon it; it is as fine as the hair of your head, even and equal, as nothing more strong, as the strings of a Vial; white as a flake of Snow, spun all with mine own fingers; reeled and wound up with mine own hands. Look you (Lady) on some of the same in skeins; Did you ever see better? Three Royals, as I am true woman, I received no longer ago then yester day for and ounce. Now does the Devil go preparing opportunity for my Stratagem, by reinforcing this sickness upon the other. Go on, my good friend, stand stiffly to your tackling; be strong and shrink not. For now is the time or never; see you leave her not: and re move away this woman from me. But soft; I fear she hears me. I say (Madame) Cursed be the devil and my evil Fortune, that your sisters sickness is grown now upon her in such and un lucky hour, that we shall have no fit time to dispatch our business: But I pray, what is her sickness? Here (Lady, I give you my faithful promise, that as soon as I go hence, I will hyemee to my Vestals, where I have many devout virgins, my friends, upon whom I will lay the same charge as you have laid upon me. Madame, there is no need of pardon, where there is no fault committed. Jove pardon you, and I do. For I thank you, you have left me here with very good company. Jove grant she may long enjoy her noble youth, and this her flourishing prime; a time wherein more pleasures and delights are found, then in this old de caye. Carcase of mine, which is nothing else but a very Spittle-house of diseases, and Inn full of infirmities, a Storehouse, or Ma gazine of sad and melancholy thoughts, a friend to brangling and brawling, a continual grief, and incurable plague: pitying that which is passed, punished in that which is present: and full of wret ched care in that which is to come: A near neighbour unto death; a poor Cabin, without one bough of shelter, whereinto it reins on all sides; a stick of Willow; a staff of weak Osiers, which is doubled with any the least stress you put it to. They desire so much their more hurt; they desire so much their more grief; they desire to live to be old; because by living to be old, they live. And life (you know) is sweet; and li ving, they come to be old. Hence is it, that your children desire to be men; and your men to be old men; and your old men, to be more and more old; and though they live in never so much pain, yet do they still desire to live. For, (as it is in the Proverb) Fain would the Hen live, for all her pip; she would not be put out of her life, to be put out of her pain. But who is he (Lady) that can recount unto you the inconveniences of old age? The discommo dities it brings with it? it's torments, it's cares, it's troubles, it's infirmities, it's colds, it's heats, it's discontentments, it's brawls, it's janglings, it's griefs, which Like so many weights lie heavy up on it? Those deep furrows and deep wrinkles in the face? That change and alteration in the hair? That fading of fresh and lively colour? That want of hearing? That weakness of sighed? That hollowness in the eyes? Seeing, as if they were shut up in a shade? That sinking and falling of the jaws? That toothlesnesse of the gums? That failingnesse of force and of strength? That feebleness of legs? That slowness in feeding? Beside, (Madame) which makes me sighs to think upon it, when all these Misery's I have told you of, come accompanied with poverty, all sorrows to this must stoop and strike sail, when the appetite shall be great, and the provision small; The stomach good, and the diet nought; For I never knew any worse habit, then that of hunger. Daughter, and Mistress, there is no way so fair, but hath some foul; if you have one mile of good, you have three of bade. At the foot of every hill, you have three Leagues of ill fol lowes. And of a thousand that live contentedly, you have ten thou sand do the contrary: True contentedness, rest, renown, glory, and quietness, run from the rich by other by-conduits, and gut ters of subtlety and deceit; which pipes, whereby they are convey ed, are never perceived, because they are paved and brickt over with smooth and well wrought flatteries. He is rich that hath Gods blessing. I marry, that is wealth indeed And shall I tell you, Lady? Safer it is with him that is despised, then with him that is feared. And a far better sleep does the poor man take, then he who is bound to keep that with care which he hath got with labour, and must leave with sorrow. My friend will not dissemble with me, but the rich men will with him; I am loved for mine own sake; the rich man for his wealths sake. A rich man shall never hear the truth; every one will flatter him, and seek to please his hu mour in whatsoever he shall say. Beside, he lies open to every men envy; and you shall scarce find one rich man amongst a thousand, but will ingeniously confess, that it had been better for him to have been in a middling estate, or in good honest poverty. For riches make not a man rich but busied; not a Master, but a Steward. More are they that are possessed by their riches, then they that possess their riches. To many they have been a means of their death; and most men they have robbed of their pleasure, and their good and commendable qualities; and to say the truth, they are enemies to all goodness. Have you not herd say, Men have lain down, and dreamed of their riches, and behold, they have waked, and found nothing in their hands? Every rich man hath a dozen of sons, or Nephews, which repeat no other prayer, nor tender any other Orison to God, but that he would be pleased to take him out of this world; and desire nothing more, then to see the hour that they may come to enjoy his estate; to see him under ground, and what was his, in their hands; and with a small charge, to lay him up in his last and everlasting mansion here on earth. As soon (Lady) die the young Lamb as the old Sheep; they go both to the shambles together; there is no man so old, but he may live one year more; nor no man so young, but he may die to day: so that in this you have little, or no advantage of us. Even the very same. Madame, Take you hold on time, that it slip not from you. As for my complexion, that will never change: have you not read what they say? The day will come, when thou shalt not know thy self in a glass? Though I am now grown grey before my time, and seem double the years I am of; of four daughters which my mother had, my self was the youngest. And therefore, I am sure, I am not so old as you take me to be. Oh more then mortal image! Oh precious pearl! How truly have you guest? Oh! with what a grace do thy words come from thee? I am ravished hearing thee speak. But yet it is not on lie eating, that maintaineth a man or woman; especially me, who use to be fasting a whole, nay, two days together, in soliciting oh there folks businesses. For, I intend no other thing, my whole life is nothing else; but to do good offices for the good, and (if occa sion serve) to die for them. And it was evermore my fashion, ra there to seek trouble to my self by serving of others, then to please and content my self. Wherefore, if you will give me leave, I will tell you the necessitated cause of my coming, which is another manner of matter then any you have yet herd; and such as we were all undone, if I should return in vain, and you not know it. My most gracious and courteous Lady, descended of high and noble parentage; your sweet words, and cheerful gesture, ac companied with that kind and free proffer, which you are pleased to make to this poor old woman, gives boldness to my tongue, to speak what my heart even longeth to utter. I come lately from one, whom I left sick to the death, who only with one word, which should come from your noble mouth, & entrusted in this my bosom to carry it hence with me, I verily assure my self, it will save his life, so great is the devotion which he bears to your gentle disposition, and the comfort he would receive by this so great a kindness. All fear fled (fair Lady) in beholding your beauty For, I cannot be persuaded, that Nature did paint in vain one face fairer then another, more enriched with grace and favour, more fashionable, and more beautiful then another; were it not to make them Magazines of virtue, mansions of mercy, houses of come passion and pity, Ministers of her blessings, and dispensers of those good gifts and graces, which in her bounty she hath bestowed upon them, and upon your self in a more plenti full manner. Beside, since we are all mortal, and born to die; as also, that it is most certain, that he cannot be said truly to be born, who is only born for himself; for then should men be Like unto bruit beasts, (if not worse;) Amongst which, there are some, that are very pitiful: as your Unicorn, of whom it is reported, that he will humble and prostrate himself at the feet of a Virgin. And your dog, for all his fierceness, and cruelness of nature, when he comes to bite another, if he throw himself down at his feet, he will let him alone, and do him no harm; and this is all out of pity. Again, to come to your birds, and fowls of the air; your Cock eateth not any thing, but he first calls his Hens about him, and gives them partly of his feeding. The Pellicane, with her beak breaks up her own breast, that she may give her very bowels and entrails to her young ones to eat. The Storks maintain their aged parents as long in the nest, as they did give them food, when they were young and unable to help them selves. Now, if God and Nature gave such knowledge unto beasts and birds; why should we that are men, be more cruel one to another? Why give we not partly of our graces, and of our persons, to our neighbours? Especially when they are involved and afflicted with secret infirmities, and those such, that where the Medicine is, thence was the cause of the malady? You can not choose (Lady) but know a young Gentle man in this City, nobly descended, whose name is Calisto. In and ill hour came I hither. If my spells and conjuration fail me. Go to, go to; I wot well enough to whom I speak. This poor Gentleman, this your brother, is at the point of death, and ready to die. My fear of you (Madame) does interrupt my excuse; but my innocency puts new courage into me: your presence again disheartens me, in seeing you so angry. But that which grieves and troubles me most, is, that I receive displeasure without any rea son, and am hardly thought on without a cause. Give me leave (good Lady) to make and end of my speech, and then will you nei there blame it, nor condemn me; then will you see, that I rather seek to do good service, then endeavour any dishonest course; and that I do it more to add health to the Patient, then to detract any thing from the fame and worth of the Physician. And had I thought that your Ladyship would so easily have made this bade construction out of your late noxious suspicion, your licence should not have been sufficient warrant to have emboldened me to speak any thing, that might concern Calisto, or any other man living. Because my plain and simple meaning made me believe, that though I should have proposed it in any other words whatsoe ver, had they been worse then they were, yet would you not have suspected any evil in them. For, if I were failing in the fitness of my preface, and did not use oh endue and convenient a preamble as I should have done, it was, because truth needs no colours. The very compassion that I had of his pain, and the confidence of your magnificency, did choke in my mouth, when I first began to speak the expression of the cause. And for that you know (Lady) that sorrow works turbation, and turbation does disorder and all ter the tongue, which ought always to be tied to the brain; for heavens love, lay not the fault on me; and if he hath committed and error, let not that redound to my hurt; for I am no farther blame able of any fault, then as I am the messenger of the faulty. Break not the rope where it is weakest. Be not Like the Cobweb, which never shows it's force, but on poor little Flies. No humane Law condemns the father for the sons offence, nor the son for the father's: nor indeed (Lady) is it any reason, that his presumption should occasion my perdition; though considering his desert, I should not greatly care, that he should be the delinquent, and my self be condemned, since that I have no other Trade to live by, save to serve such as he is; This is my occupation, this I make my hap pinesse. Yet withal (Madame) I would have you to conceive, that it was never in my desire to hurt one, to help another, though behind mybacke, your Ladyship hath perhaps been otherwise infor med of me. But the best is, it is not the vain breath of the vulgar, that can blast the truth; assuredly I mean nothing in this, but one lie plain and honest dealing. I do little harm to any; I have as few enemies in this City, as a woman can have; I keep my word with all men; and what I undertake, I perform as faithfully, as if I had twenty feet, and so many hands. If I have not gained it with my tongue, I hope I have not lost it with my intention. I, and so sick (Madame) and so distressed, that did you know it as well as I, you would not judge him the man, which in your anger you have censured him to be. By my say, the poor Gentleman hath no gall at all, no ill meaning in his heart. He is endued with thousands of graces; for bounty, he is and Alexander; for strength, and Hector; he has the presence of a Prince; he is fair in his carriage, sweet in his behaviour, and pleasant in his conversati on; there is no melancholy, or other bade humour, that reigneth in him; Nobly descended, as your self well knows; a great Tilter; and to see him in his armour, it becomes him so well, that you would take him to be another Saint George. Hercules had not that force and courage as he hath; His diportment, his person, his fea ture, his disposition, his agility, and activeness of body, had need of another manner of tongue to express it, then mine. I ache him all together, and for all in all, you shall not find such another; and for admired form, a miracle; and I am verily persuaded, that that fair and gentle Narcissus, who was enamoured with his own proper beauty, when as in a glass he viewed himself, in the water was no thing so fair as he, whom now one poor tooth, with the extre mity of its pain, does so torment, that he does nothing but complain. His age (Madame?) Marry, I think he is about some three and twenty. For here stands she, who saw him born, and took him up from his mother's feet. Some eight days (Madame) but you would think he had had it a year, he is grown so weak with it, and the greatest ease, and best remedy he hath, is, to take his Vial, whereto he sings so many songs, & in such doleful notes, that I verily believe, they did far exceed those, which that great Emperor and Musician Hadrian composed concerning the souls departure from the body; the bet ter to endure without dismayment, his approaching death. For though I have but little skill in music, me thinks he makes the Vi all, when he plays thereon, to speak; and when he sings thereun to, the birds with a better will listen unto him, then to that Musi cian of old, which made the trees and stones to move. Had he been born then, Orpheus had lost his prey. Weigh then with your self (Sweet Lady) if such a poor old woman as I am, have not cause to count my self happy, if I may give life unto him, to whom the hea uens have given so many graces? Not a woman that sees him, but praiseth Nature's workmanship, whose hand did draw so perfect a piece; and if it be their hap to talk with him, they are no more Mistress's of themselves, but are wholly at his disposing; and of Commanders, desire to be commanded by him. Wherefore, seeing I have so great reason to do for him, conceive (good Lady) my purpose to be fair and honest, my courses commendable, and free from suspicion and jealousy. Madame, I much marvel you should entertain any the least doubt of my service. Fear you not; for I can suffer, and continued ver any thing: and I well perceive, that your great jealousy and suspicion of me, made you (as commonly it does) to interpret my speeches to the worst sense. Well, I will take my leave, and go hence with this Girdle so merrily, as if I did presently see his heart leaping for joy, that you have graced him with so great a kindness; and I doubt not, but I shall find him much eased of his pain. We shall needs more, and you must do more then this, though perhaps you will not so well Like of it, and scarce thank us for it. Nothing (Madame) we have done already. I entreated her to put your Ladyship in mind of the Charm, that it might be writ out ready for me; and that she should learn of me to temper her self in the time of your anger, putting her in mind of that ancient Adage; From and angry man, get thee gone but for a while; but from and enemy, for ever. But you (Madame) had only a quarrel to those words of mine which you suspected, and not any enmity to my person. And say, they had been such as you conceited them; yet were they not so bade, as you would have made them to be. For it is every days experience, to see men pained & tormented for women; and women as much for men. And this, Nature works; and Nature (you know) is crafts master, and works nothing that is ill: So that my demand (you see) was (as my desire was it should be) in it self commendable, as having it's growth from so good a root. Many the Like reasons could I render you, were not prolixity tedious to the hearer, and hurtful to the speaker. Not so, Madame; His deserts challenge more at my hands. And if by my entreaties, I have done him any good, I fear me, by my over long-stay, I have done him as much harm. And there before if your Ladyship will license me, I will haste to see how he does. Why dost thou keep such a crossing of thy self? I be leave, thou blessest thy self to see me. This foolish Rule (my Son) is not always true; for had I stayed but one hour longer, I might perhaps have left my nose be hind me, and two other noses, had I had them, & my tongue to boot: so that the longer I had stayed, the dearer it would have cost me. Sempronio, my friend, neither have I time to stay here, nor is this a fit place to tell it thee. Come, go along with me to Calisto, and thou shalt hear wonders (my Bully.) For by commu nicating my self to many, I should as it were deflower my Embas sage, whose maidenhead I mean to bestow on your Master; for, I will that from mine own mouth, he hear what I have done; for though thou shalt have parcel of the profit, I mind to have all the thanks for my labour. Go to, you fool; Hold your peace, be it partly or par cell, man, thou shalt have what thou wilt thy self. Do but ask, and have; what is mine, is thine: Let us laugh and be merry, and benefit our selves the best that we can: Hang all this trash, this pu trified dirt, rather then thou and I should fallen out about dividing the spoil; yet must I tell you, (which is no more then your self knows) that old folks have more needs then young; Especially you, who live at full table, upon free cost. A wise man altereth his purpose, but a fool persevereth in his folly: a new business requires new counsel; and various accidents, various advice. Nor did I think (Son Sempronio ) that fortune would have befriended me so soon. Beside, it is the partly of a discreet messenger, to do that which the time requires; especially, when as the quality of the business cannot conceal or admit of dissem bled ime. And moreover, I know that thy Master (as I have herd) is liberal, and somewhat of a womanish longing; and therefore will give more for one day of good news, then for a hundred, wherein he is pained. And with his pain, mine will be increased: his in lo ving, and mine in trudging to and from. For your quick and speedy pleasures beget alteration; and great alteration does hinder delibe ration. Again, where will you find goodness, but in that which is good? And nobleness of blood, but in large and long continued rewards? Peace, you fool, let me alone with him, and you shall see how your old woman will handle h m. Peace, you fool; What? Does your complexion change? Does your colour altar? I know by your nose, what porridge you oue. You had rather have the taste, then sent of this business. Come I prithee, let us hie us, for thy Master will be ready to run mad, if we stay overlong. Dost thou hear him; Sempronio? Your Master is now of another temper; these words are of another tune, then those we lately herd both of Parmeno, and him, at our first coming hither. The matter I see is well amended; there is never a word I shall tell him, but shall be better to old Celestina, then a new petticoat. Peace, Sempronio; Though I have hazarded my life for him, yet Calisto's own worth, and his, and your joint entreaties, merit much more then this. And I hope, he will well reward me for my pains, being so frank and Noble a Gentleman as he is. Oh my good Lord and Master Calisto, How is it? how is it with you? Oh my new Lover (and not without joust cause) of fairest Me libea! How canst thou make this old woman a mends, who hath hazarded her life in thy service? What woman was ever driven to such narrow shifts? The very thought whereof, makes my heart to faint, emptying my vital veins of all their blood. I would have given my life for less then the price of this old tottered Mantle, which you see here on my back. Your sword, Sir. Now I hope not: What? Take your sword and kill you? There's a word indeed to kill my heart. No; let your sword serve to kill your enemies, and such as wish you harm. As for me, I will give thee life, man, by that good hope, which I have in her, whom thou love best. With such a look and countenance, as your brave fierce bulls use towards those that cast sharp darts against them, when they come for to be baited: or Like your wild boars, when they make towards those Mastiffs which set upon them. By selling a parcel of thread which I had; by which trick, I have taken in my days, more then thirty of as good worth and quality as her self, (So it pleased fortune to favour me in this world) and some better women, I wiss, and of greater rank, were she more honourable then she is. Noble Calisto, Let thy ears be open to that which I shall tell thee, and thou shalt see what thy good fortune, and my great ear have effected for thee. For, when I was about to pitch a price of my thread, and to fell it, Melibea's mother was called away to go visit a sister of hers, that lay exceeding sick: and because she could not stay with me her self (so necessary was her absence) she left Melibea to conclude the bargain, and to driven such a price with me, as she should think fit. Oh Sir, I was so overjoyed, that whosoever had seen me, might have read in my face the merriment of my heart. No. But rather grew thereby the bolder to utter my mind unto her; it was the thing that I desired; it was even as I would have wished it: There was nothing could have fell out so pat for me, as to see my self all alone with her: then began I to open the very bowels and entrails of my heart; then did I deliver my em bassage, and told her in what extreme pain you lived, and how that one word of her mouth, proceeding favourably from her, would ease you of your mighty torment. And as one standing in suspense, looking wisely and steadily upon me, somewhat amazed at the strangeness of my message, harkening very attentively, till she might come to know who this should be, that for want of a word of her mouth, lived in such great pain, and what manner of man he might be, whom her tongue was able to cure? In naming you unto her, she did cut off my words, and with her hand struck her self a blow on the breast, as one that had herd some strange and fearful news; charging me to cease my prattle, and to get me out of her sighed, unless I would her servants should become my Exe cutioners, and make short work with me in these my old and latter days; aggravating my audacious boldness; calling me Witch, Sorceress, Bawd, old Whore, false Baggage, bearded Miscreant, the Mother of mischief; and many other more ignominious names, wherewithal they fear children. And when she had ended with her Bugbears, she began to fallen into often swoonings and trances, making many strange gestures, full of fear and amaze meant, all her senses being troubled, her blood boiling within her, throwing her self this way and that way, bearing in a strange kind of manner the members of her body one against another; and then in a strong and violent fashion, being wounded with that golden shaft, which at the very voicing of your name, had struck her to the heart, writhing and winding her body, her hands and fingers being clinched one within another, Like one struggling & striving for life, that you would have thought, she would have rend them asunder, hurling and rolling her eyes on every side, striking the hard ground with her tender feet. Now, I all this while, stood me still in a continued ner, Like a cloth that is shrunk in the wetting, as close as I could for my life, not saying so much as any one word unto her; yet glad with all my heart, to see her in this cruel and pitiful taking. And the more her throws and pangs were, the more did I laugh in my sleeve at it; because I thereby knew, her yielding would be the sooner, and her fallen the nearer: yet must I tell you, that whilst her anger did foam out it's froth, I did not suffer my thoughts to be idle, nor give them leave to run a woolgathering, but recolle cting my self, and calling my wits about me, I took hold on Times foretop, and found a salve to heal that hurt, which my self had made. Say you me so, Sir? Well, let it be so then, I told her, your torment was the toothache; and that the word which I craved of her, was a kind of Prayer, or Charm, which she knew to be very good, and of great power against that pain. Marry, that with all her heart I should have it. Nay, this is not all; I craved more then this. Her Girdle, which continually she wore about her, affir ming that it was very good for the allaying of your pain; because of some Supereminent Influence from the Sibilla Cumanae. It is a Mantle that I needs; that alone shall content me; In large not therefore your liberality; Let not any suspectful doubt interpose it self in my demand; My request is reasonable, and you know, it is a common saying; To offer much to him, that asks but a little, is a kind of denial. Would; What's that? Have you touched her with your hands? you make me startle. It is and old Proverb; He that labours least, oftentimes gets most. But I will make thee by thy labouring, to obtain that which by being negligent, thou shouldst never achieve. For Camora was not won in and hour; yet did not her besiegers for all this de spaire. No more was Room built in one day; nor Troy ruined in a year. No more, good Sir, no more; bridle your passion; for the stout courage, and hardy boldness of one man, did get Troy. Doubt not then, but one woman may work upon another, and at last win her unto thee; thou hast little frequented my house, thou art igno rant of my courses, thou knowest not what I can do. Thou shalt see more, and enjoy more, in a more ample and better manner, if thou loose it not by talking as thou dost. Howbeit they be not, yet should you not talk thus as you do; but rather give and end to these your long complaints. Use a girdle Like a girdle, that you may know to make a difference of your words, when you come to Melibea's presence; let not your tongue equal the apparel, with the person; making no distin ction betwixt her, and her garments. That's a gift, which is given gratis; but you know that she did this for to ease your toothache; and to close up your wounds; and not for any respect or love, which she bears to you: But if I live, she shall turn the leaf, ere I leave her. Sir, content your self with that, which hath hitherto been said and done; she is already bound, I have showed you, how (as farforth as she is able) she will be ready to yield you any help for this infirmity of yours, which I shall crave at her hands. And tell me, I pray, if this be not well for the first bowt. Well, I will now get me home; and in any case, have a care, that if you chance to morrow to walk abroad, that you go muzzled about the cheeks with a cloth, that she seeing you so bound about the chaps, may not accuse me of petitioning a falsehood. Not knowing her? They were my neighbours for four years together; I dealt with them; I conversed with them; I tal ked with them; and laughed together with them day and night. Oh! how merry we have been! Her mother, why she knows me bet ter then her own hands: and Melibea too, though now she be grown so tall, so great, so courteous, and discreet a Lady. Sempronio, I understand your meaning; but give him leave to run on; for he will fallen anon from his Ass, and then his jour ney will be at and end: you shall see, he will come by and by to a full point, and so conclude. Sir, fare you well. To morrow I shall make my return, and visit you again; not doubting but my gown and her answer shall meet here together; for now time does not serve. And in the interim, let me entreat you to be patient. Settle your thoughts upon some other things, and do not so much as once think upon her. But you were not wont to be thus froward. A sure friend is known in a doubtful matter; and in and versity is his faith proved. Then comes he nearest unto him, when he is farthest from comfort; and with greater desire does he then visit his house, when as prosperous fortune hath forsaken it. What shall I say unto thee, Son, of the virtues of a good and fast friend? There is nothing more to be beloved; no thing more rare: he refuseth no burden. You two are equals, and parity of persons, similitude of manners, and sympathy of hearts are the main props that uphold friendship. Take heed (my son;) for if thou hast any thing, it is safely kept for thee. Be thou wise to gain more, for this is gained already to your hands. Your father, Oh what pains took he for it! But I may not put it into your hands, till you led a more reposed life, and come to a more come pleat and full age. Marry son, to live of your self. Not to go thorough oh there men's houses, nor to set thy foot under another men table: which thou shalt still be enforced to do, unless thou learn to make profit of thy service; for out of very pity to see thee go thus totred and torn, not having a rag almost to hang on thy breech, did I beg that mantle which thou sawest, of Calisto, not so much for the mantles sake, as for that there being a Taylor belonging to the house, and thou before being without a Jerkin, he might bestow it upon thee. So that I speak not for mine own profit, (as I herd you say) but for thy good. For, if you rely only upon the ordinam ry wages of these Gallants, it is such, that what you get by it after ten years service, you may put it in your eye and never see the worse. Enjoy thy youth, good days, good nights, good meat, and good drink; when thou mayest have these things, loose them not; Let that be lost that will be lost. Do not thou mourn for the wealth which was left thy Master (for that will but shorten thy days) since we can enjoy it no longer then we live. Oh Son Parmeno, (and well may I call thee son, since I had the breeding of thee so long a time) follow my counsel, seeing it proceeds out of pure love, and and earnest desire, to see thee grow up in honour. Oh! how happy should I be, might I but see thee and Sempronio a gree; see you two friends, and sworn brother's in every thing, that ye may come to my poor house to be merry, and to see me now and then, and to take your pleasure each of you with his Wench! I, his Wench; and a young one too: As for old flesh, my self am old enough, and such a wench as Sempronio would be glad of with all his heart, with one half of that regard and affection which I show to thee. What I speak, comes from my entrails, and the very bowels of me. And if I should, the matter is not great; For what I do, I do for charity, and for that I see thee here alone in a strange Land, and for the respect which I bear unto those bones of her, who re commended thee unto me. When you are more man, you will think of all this, and come to a truer knowledge of things, and then thou wilt say, that old Celestina gave me good counsel. In this and all other, thou shalt not only trip, but fallen, as long as thou shalt not take my counsel with thee, which comes from thy true and faithful friend. What sayest thou, my honest Parmeno? My son, nay, more then my son. How? Make you this so great a wonder? Know you not, the Proverb tells us: That there is a great deal of difference be betwixt Peter and Peter? Trust me truly, we cannot all be alike in all. We cannot all of us attain to those good gifts and graces of my deceased Gossip. And have not you your self seen amongst your Artisans some good, and some others better then they? So likewise was it betwixt me and your mother. She was the only woman in our Art, she had not her fellow: and for such a one was she of all the world both known and sought after, as well of Can ualleroes, as married men, old men, young men, and children, be sides, Maids and Damsels, who did as earnestly pray for her life, as for that of their own father's and mother's. She had to do with all manner of persons; she talked with all sorts of people. If we walked the streets, as many as we met, they were all of them her Godsons. For her chiefest profession for some sixteen years together, was to play the Midwife: so that albeit thou knewest not these secrets, because thou wast then but young, now it is fit that thou shouldst know them, since that she is dead, and thou grown up to be a man. Any great acquaintance? You are disposed to jest. Our cases were both alike; they took us both alike; they accused us both alike; and they did punish us both alike, which (if I be not de ceiued) was the first punishment that ever we had. But thou wast a little one then. I wonder how thou shouldst remember it; For, it is a thing of all other, the most forgotten, that hath happened in this City; so many, and so daily in this world are those new occurrents, which obliterate the old. If you go but out into the marketplace, you shall every day see, Peguey Pague; the Peccant and his punishment. How deadly the fool bites! He hath hit me home, and pricked me to the quick; I will therefore be now Tom -telltruth. And assure thy self, since thou hast galled me, I will wring thee till I make thee winch and fling; I will tickle thee on the right vein. Marry I say, son, that beside this, your mother was ta ken four several times, she her self alone: and once she was ac cused for a Witch; For she was found one night by the watch, with certain little candles in her hand, gathering I know not what earth in a cross way; for which she stood half a day in the oh pen marketplace upon a Scaffold, with a high paper Hat, Like the coffin of a Sugar-loaf, painted full of Devils, whereon her fault was written (being brought thither, riding thorough the streets upon and Ass, as the fashion is in the punishment of Bawds & Witches.) Yet all this was nothing; for men must suffer something in this wicked world, for to uphold their lives, and their honours. And mark, I pray, what small reckoning they made of it, because of her great wisdom and discretion. For she would not for all this, give over her old occupation; and from that day forward followed it more earnestly, then she did before, and with happier proof. This I thought good to tell you, to cross that opinion of yours, touching perseverance in that, wherein we have once already erred; for all that she did, did so well become her, and such a grace had she with her, that upon my conscience, howbeit she stood thus disgracefully upon the Scaffold, every one might perceive, that she cared not a button for those that stood beneath, staring and gazing upon her; such was her behaviour and carriage at that instant: look they might their fill, but I warrant you, she was not a farthing in debt, no not to the proudest of them all; wherein, I thought fit to instance, to show thereby unto you; that they, who have any thing in them as she had, and are wise, and of worth, fallen far more easily and sooner into error, then any other. Do but weigh and consider with your self, what a manner of man Virgil was; how wise in all kind of knowledge; and yet I am sure you have herd, how in a wicker basket he was hung out from a Tower, all Room looking upon him; yet for all this, was he neither the less honoured, ney there lost he the name of Virgil. Peace, you fool, thou art ignorant what a sinister and course kind of Justice was used, and rigorously executed upon thy mother, to the most extremity, which, as all men confess, is a mere injury. And the rather, because it was commonly spoken of all men, that wrongfully, and against all right and reason, by sub orning of false witnesses, and cruel torments, they enforced her to confess that, which in reality of truth was not. But because she was a woman of a great spirit, and good courage, and her heart had been accustomed to endure, she made matters lighter then they were; And of all this, she reckoned not a Pin: for a thousand times have I herd her say; If I broke my leg, it was all for my good; for this made me better known then I was before. And certainly so she was, and the more noted and respected, nay, and thrived the better by it, both she and I, and the more plentiful our harvest and incomes of customers of the best, and we loved and lived merrily together to her last. And be but thou unto me, as she was; that is to say, a true and faithful friend; and withal, endeavour thy self to be good, since thou hast so good a pattern to follow. And for that which thy father left thee, thou hast it safely kept for thee. If I did promise thee, I have not forgotten it; nor would I you should think, that I have lost my memory with my years. For I have thrice already, and better, given her the check, concerning this business, in thy absence; but now I think the matter is grown to some ripeness. Let us walk towards her house; for now, do what she can, she shall not avoid the Mate. For this is the least thing of a thousand, that I will undertake to do for thee. I marvel not much at thy discouragement, considering I was then a stranger unto thee; at least, not so well acquainted with thee as now I am: and that thy self did not then know, (as now thou dost) that thou mayest command her, who is the Doctress of this Art; but now thou shalt see, what favour thou shalt find for my sake; what power I have over these wenches; how much I can prevail with them; and what wonders I can work in matters of Jove: but hush, tread softly; Lo, heeres the door, let us enter in with still and quiet steps, that the neighbours may not hear us. Stay, and attend me here at the stairs foot, whilst I go up and see what I shall be able to do with her, concerning the business we talked of; and it may be, we shall work more with her, then either thou or I did ever dream of. Fit not up, I pray any longer, but get you to bed, and continued ver your self well with clothes, and sink lower in, so shall you be the sooner warm. Oh! how Like a Syren dost thou look? How fair, how beautiful? Oh! how sweetly every thing smells about thee, when thou heavest and turnest thy self in thy bed? I assure you, every thing is in very good order: how well have I always been pleased with all thy things, and thy doings? You will not think, how this neatness, this handsomeness of yours in your lodging does delight me; to see every thing so trim and trick sie about you; I promise you, I am even proud of it. Oh! how fresh dost thou look? What sheets? What quilts be here? What pillows? Oh! how white they be? Let me not live, if every thing near does not Like me wonderful well: My Pearl, my Jewel of gold, see whither I love you or no, that I come to visit you at this time of night? Let my eye take its fill in beholding of thee; it does me much good to touch thee, and to look upon thee. What pain (Sweet heart?) Tell me (pretty Duck.) Come, come, you do but jest, I am sure. Go to, give me leave a little to touch you; and I will try what I can do. For I know something of this evil, which e very one calls the Mother, and the passion thereunto belonging. Alack (poor heart) how I pity thee: that one so plump, so fair, so clear, so fresh, so fragrant, so delicate, so dainty a creature, that art indeed the very abstract of beauty, the most admired more dell for complexion, feature, comeliness, and rarest composure; every Limb, every Lineament carrying such and extraordina ry lustre and ornament by reflection from thee. I say, How do I pity thee, that any ache, sickness, or infirmity should dare to seize, or presume to usurp over such a Peerless Potent, a command ding Power, as thy imperious vnparaleld beauty! But I dare say, it is not so, nor so; No no, your disease is selfe-conceited, and the pride of your good parts, this puffs you and makes you slight and contemn all. Go to, go to, (daughter) you are to blame if it be so, and I tell you, it is a shame for you, that it is, not to impart these good graces and blessings, which heaven hath bestowed upon you, to as many as wish you well; For they were not given you in vain, that you should let them wither, and loose the flower of your youth under six linings of Woollen, and Linen; have a care, that you be not covetous of that, which cost you but little; do not Like, a Mi sir, hoard up your beauty; make not a hidden treasure of it, si thence in it's own nature it is as communicable, and as commonly currant as money from man to man. Be not the Mastive in the gar den, nor the Dog in the manger: and since thou canst not take any pleasure in thy self, let others take their pleasure and do not think thou wast born for nothing: for when thou wast born, man was born: and when man was born, woman was born; nothing in all this wide world was created superfluous, nor which Nature did not provide for with very good consonancy, and well suiting with reason. But think on the contrary, That it is a fault to vex and torment men, when it is in thy power to give them remedy. In this so common a grief, all of us, (the more misfor tune ours) are in a manner Physicians to our selves; that which I have seen practised on others, and that which I found good in my self, I shall plainly deliver unto you: but as the states of our bo die are diverse, and the qualities differing; so are the medicines all so diverse, and the operations different. Every strong sent is good: as Pennyroyal, Rue, Wormwood, smoke of Partridge feathers, of Rosemary, and of the Soles of old shoes, and of Musk-roses, of Incense, of strong perfumes, received kindly, fully, and greedily, does work much good; much slakes and eases the pain, and by little and little returns the Mother to it's proper place. But there is another thing that passes all these, and that I ever found to be better then any one, or all of them put together; but what it is, I will not tell you, because you make your self such a piece of niceness. Go to, go to, you understand me well enough; do not make your self more fool then you are. Suppose all this to be true, be it in the best sort it may be, yet what of all this? This retiredness is no cure for your disease; you must be free and communicable, for I must tell you, there are griefs and pangs cannot easily be posted off, and dispossessed, and some not to be removed but by being a mother, (you know my meaning;) and such is your disease, and you can never recover it, but by living sole and simple (as you now do) without company. You know already what I have said unto you concerning Parmeno; who complains himself unto me, that you refuse to see him; that you will not vouchsafe him so much as a look: what should be the reason, I know not, unless because you know, that I wish him well, and make account of him, as of my son. I have a better care of your matters, and regard your friends in a kinder fashion. Not a neighbour that dwells near you, but she is welcome unto me, and my heart rejoices as often as I see them, and all be cause they converse with thee, and keep thee company. I know not whither you do or no: Dost thou hear me (girl?) I ust believe works; for words are wind, and are sold every where for nothing; but love is never paid, but with pure love: and works with works. Thou knowest the alliance between thee and Elicia, whom Sempronio keeps in my house. Parmeno and he are fellows and companions, they both serve the Gentle man you wot of; and by whom you may gain great good, and grace unto your self. Do not therefore deny him that, the gran ting whereof will cost thee so little; you are kinse-women, and they companions: see, how pat all things fallen! far j better then we our selves could have wished; and to tell you truly, I have brought him along with me: how say you? Shall I call him up? No: for he stays beneath; I will call to him to come up; for my sake show him good countenance; take notice of him; speak kindly unto him; entertain him friendly; and if you think fit, let him enjoy you, and you him; and both one another; for though he gain much, I am sure, you shall loose nothing by the bargain. For this fear of yours, my self have already provided: for we entered in very softly. I am here with thee (wench;) I, who will stand betwixt him and thee; I will quit thee of this shame, and will cover thee close, and speak for you both: For he is as bashful as you for your life. Come hither you Ass, whither go you now, to fit more ping down in a corner? Come, come, be not so shamefast, for it was the bashful man whom the Devil brought to Court; for he was sure, he should get nothing there; Harken both of you, what I shall now say unto you: You, my friend Parmeno, know already what I promised you: and you (daughter) what I entreated at your hands. Laying aside therefore the difficulty, in drawing thee to grant that which I desi ed, few words I conceive to be best, be cause the time will not permit me to be long. He for his partly hath hitherto lived in great pain and grief for your sake: and therefore you seeing his torment, I know you will not kill him: and I Like wise know, that your self liketh so well of him, that it shall not be amiss, that he stay with you here this night in the house. No, daughter, no such matter; he says that he is very glad of your good love and friendship, because you are so honest, and so worthy; and that any benefit shall light well, that shall fallen upon you. Come hither (Modesty) Come hither you bashful fool. So uncivil? Do you stand upon leave? Would you have him stand with cap in hand, and say, I pray shall I? Will the give me leave forsooth? And I know not what fiddle-come-faddles? Well, I will stay no longer with you: and I will pass my word, that you shall rise to morrow painelesse. Why, how now Areusa, what's the matter with you? Whence comes this strangeness? Whence this coyness of yours? This niceness? Why (Daughter) do you think that I know not what this means? Did I never see a man and woman together be before? And that I know not all their tricks and devices? What they say, and what they do? I am sorry to hear that I do. Beside, I must tell you, I was once as wanton as you are now, and thought my penny as good silver as yours: and many a friend I had that came unto me: yet did I never in all my life exclude either old man, or old woman out of my company, or that ever I refused their counsel, were it public or private, By my little honesty, I had rather thou hadst given me a box on the ear, then to hear what I hear. You make of me, as if I had been born but yesterday. Oh! how cunning forsooth, how close you be? for to make your self seem honest, you would make me a fool. I must be a kind of Ignoramus, without shame, secrecy, and experience. Ye would discredit me in my Trade, for to win your self credit in your own. But the best is, betwixt Pirate and Pirate, there is nothing to be God but blows and empty barrels. And well I wot, that I speak far better of thee, behind thy back, then thou canst think of thy self before me. No marry shall you not; that were but to strip one, and cloth another; or again, it needs not, for I am old, and therefore fear not to be forced in the streets. I am passed all danger of ravi shing. Than, than, than. Daughter, Come down, and open the door. Daughter, I remember no such matter. For whom is it that you speak? Daughter, make it not so strange, that I should forget. For he that scattereth his memory into many parts, can keep it steadfast in no partly. But tell me, Will he not return again? Oh! wast he that brought the bracelet? Now I know whom you mean. Why did you not prepare things in a readiness, and began to do something against I came home? For in such things you should practice your self when I am absent, and try whither you can do that by your self, which you so often have seen me do; otherwise, you are Like to live all your life time Like a beast, without either art, or income: and then when you grow to my years, you will too late lament your present lazi ness; for and idle, and lazy youth brings with it a repentfull, and a painful old age. I took a better course I wiss, when your Grand mother showed me her cunning: for, in the compass of one year, I grew more skilful then her self. You may say what you Like. But believe me, you will die a beggar for this. What? do the think to live always under my wing? Think you never to go from my elbow? Oh my young amorous youths, my Pearls of gold! Let the year go about as well with me, as you are both welcome unto me. Hola: wenches, girls: where be you, you fools? Come down; Come hither quickly I say; for there are a couple of young Gallants that would ravish me. No, first fit you down (my son) for here is room enough for us all; let every one take their place, as they Like, and fit next her whom he loves best: as for me, who am a sole woman, I will fit me down here by this Jar of wine, and this good goblet. For I can live no longer, then while I talk with one of these two. Ever since that I was grown in years, I know no better office at board, then to fallen a skinking, and to furnish the Table with pots and fla gons: For he that handles honey, shall feel it still linging to his fin gers. Beside, in a cold winter's night, you cannot have a better war ming-panne. For, when I toss off two of these little pots, when I am even ready to go into my bed, why, I feel not a jot of cold all the night long. With this, I fur all my clothes at Christmas: This warms my blood; This keeps me still in one estate; This makes me merry, wherever I go; This makes me look fresh, and rud die, as a Rose. Let me still have store of this in my house, and a fig for a deer year, it shall never hurt me: for one crust of Mouse-eaten bred will serve me three whole days; This drives away all care and sorrow from the heart, better then either Gold or Coral; This gives force to a young man, and vigour to and old man; It adds colour to the discoloured; courage to the coward; diligence to the slothful; it comforts the brain; it expels cold from the sto macke; it takes away the stinkingnesse of the breath; it makes cold constitutions, to be potent and active: it makes husbandmen en dure the toil of tillage; it makes your painful and weary mow ers to sweat out all their waterish ill humours; it remedies Rheums; and cures the toothache. This may you keep long at Sea without stinking; so can you not water: I could tell you more properties of this wholesome liquour, than all of you have hairs on your head. So that I know not the man, whom it does not delight to hear it but mentioned, the very name of it is so pleasing: only, it has but this one fault: That that which is good, costs us deer; and that which is bade, does us hurt; So that what makes the Liver found, the same makes the purse light; but for all this, I will be sure to seek after the best; for that little which I drink, which is only some dozen times a meal. Which number, I never pass, unless now, when I am feasted, or so. Son, the phrase is corrupted; they have put three time, in stead of thirteen. My good children; as you love me, cease this contenti ous kind of talk: and you Elicia; I pray you come to the Table a gain; fit you down, I say, and do not vex, and grieve your self, as you do. Son, I pray thee no more. Do not answer her; for then we shall never make and end: This is nothing to the present purpose; Let us follow our business, and attend that which may tend to our good. Tell me, How does Calisto? How hap't it you left him thus all alone? How fell it out, that both of you could slip away from him? Let it come when it will come, it shall be welcome, when ever it comes. A cassock is good wear after winter. And sleeves are good after Easter: Every thing makes the heart merry that is got with ease, and without any labour, especially coming from thence, where it leaves so small a gap, and from a man of that wealth and substance, who with the very bran and scraps of his house, would make me of a begget, to become rich: such is the sur plus and store of his goods; and such as he, it never grieves them what they spend, considering the cause wherefore they give: For they feel it not; when they are in the heat and passion of their love, it pains them not; they neither see, nor hear; which I judge to be true by others, that I have known to be less passionate, and less scorched in the fiery flames of love, then Calisto is; in so much, that I have seen them neither eat nor drink; neither laughed nor weep; neither sleep nor wake; neither speak nor hold their peace; neither live in pain, nor yet find ease; neither be contented, nor yet come plain of discontentment, answerable to the perplexity of that sweet and cruel wound of their hearts. And if natural necessity forceth them to any one of these, they are so wholly forgetful of them selves, and struck into such sudden senslesnesse of their present be king and condition, that eating, their hands forget to carry their meat to their mouths: Beside, if you talk with them, they never answer you directly. Their bodies are there with you, but where they love, there are their hearts, and their senses. Great is the force of love. His power does not only reach over the earth, but passes also over the seas. He holds and equal command over all mankind. He breaks thorough all kind of difficulties; and dangers whatsoever. It is a tormentful thing, full of fear, and of care. His eye roles eve ry way; nothing can escape him. And if any of you that be here, king perhaps 100. stripes upon them, and afterwards thrust them out of doors, with their hair about their cares, and their farthels at their backs, rating them in most vile manner, crying, Out of my doors, you thief, you whore, you strumpet: this is no place for such paltry baggages. Thou shalt not spoil my house, I will not be thus dis honoured by thee. So that in stead of expected recompense, they re ceiue nothing but bitter revilements. Where they expect to go preferred out of the house, they go prejudiced out of the house. And where they expect to be well married, they are quite marred in their reputation. And where they expect jewels and wedding ap parell, there are they sent out naked, and disgraced: these are their rewards, these their benefits, and these the payments they receive for their service. They are bound to give them husbands, and in lieu thereof, they strip them of their clothes. The greatest grace and honour which they have in their Ladies house, is to be im ployed in walking the streets from one Lady to another, and to deliver their Ladies message (As, My Lady hath sent to know how you do? how you did rest to night? how your physic wrought with you; and how many occasions it gave your Ladyship, &c?) They never hear their own name out of their Ladies mouth. But the best they can call them by, is, Come hither, you whore, Get you gone, you drab, or I'll set you going: Whither gad you now, you mangy harlotry; you pocky slut? what have you done to day, you loitering Quean? why did you eat this, you ravening thing, you gorbelly, you greedy cormorant? A you filthy Sow, how clean this frying pan is kept? This pisspot (Minion) it is well scoured, is it not? why you lazy bones, did you not brush my clothes, when I left them off, and make clean my Mantle? Why said you thus and thus, you Sot, you foolish Ass? Who lost the piece of plate, you scattergood, you draggletail? Whats be come of my handkerchief, you purloining thief? you have given it to one of your copesmates, some sweetheart of yours, that must help to make you a whore: Come hither, you foul flappes, say Where is my Hen, my crammed Hen, that I cannot find her? you were best look her me out, and that quickly too, unless you mean I shall make you pay for her, when I come to pay you your wages. And beside all this, her pantoffles shall walk about her ears a thousand times a day; pinchings, cudgelings, and scourgings shall be as common to her as her meat and drink. There is not a nigh that knows how to please and content them; not any that can endure their tartness and curstness: their delight is to speak loud; their glory to chide and to brawl, and the better one does, and the more one seeks to please them, the less are they contented. And this (mother) is the reason, why I have rather desires to live free from controlment, and to be mistress in a poor little house of mine own, then to live a slave, and at command in the richest pa lace of the proudest Lady of them all. Pains, Sweetheart? Nay, they were and ease, and plea sure unto me; they did all of them obey me; they did all of them honour me; they did all of them reverence me: not one of them that would swerve from my will: what I said, stood for a Law; it was good and currant amongst them; not any one of them, to whom I gave entertainment, ever made their own choice any further then it stood with my liking; were he lame, crooked, squint-eyed, or crippled: all was one, he was the welcomest and the soundest, that brought me the soundest gains; mine was the profit, and theirs the pains. Beside, I needed no servants; for in keeping them, I had servants enough. Why, your Noblemen, your Knights, your old men, your young men, your learned men, men of all sorts and dig nities, from the highest to the lowest; why, they were all at my service: and when I came to a feast, my foot was no sooner in, but I had presently as many Bonnets veiled unto me, as if I had been a Duchess: he that had least acquaintance, least business with me, was held the most vile, and basest fellow. They spying me almost a League off; they would forsake their most earnest occasions, one by one, two by two, and come to me, to see if I would command them any service; and withal, ask me severally, how his love, how his mistress did? When they saw me once pass by, you should have such a shuffling and scraping of feet, and all in such a general gaze, and so out of order, that they did neither do nor say any thing a right. One would call me mistress, another Aunt, others their love, others honest old woman. There, they would consent, when they should come to my house: there they would agree when I should go unto theirs; there they would offer me money; there they would make me large promises; there likewise present me with gifts: some kissing the lappet of my Coat; and some other my cheek, that by these kindesses, they might give me contentment, and work me to their will. But now Fortune hath brought me to so low a place in her wheel, that you may say unto me, Mich you good do you with your old beware, you hinges are now grown rusty for want of oiling. No (my son) Jove forbid that I should raise any such report, or lay a general scandal upon any of their rank. For, there were many old good men amongst them, with whom I had but small dealings, and could scarce endure to see me: But amongst the grea test, as they grew great in number, so had I a great number of them: some of one sort, and some of another; some I found very chaste, and some that took the charge upon them to maintain such Traders as my self. And I am still of this belief, that of these there is no lack; and these, forsooth, would send their Squires and young men to wait upon me, whithersoever I went: and I should scarce have set my foot within mine own doors, but straight at the heals of me, you should have one come in with chickens, another with Hens, a third with Geese, a fourth with Ducks. This man sends me in Par triges, that man Turtle Doves, he a gammon of Bacon, such a one a Tart, or a Custard; and some good fellow or other a good sucking Pig, or two: for every one, as soon as he had a convenient pre sent, so they came presently to register them in my house; that I, and those their pretty souls, might merrily eat them together: and as for wine, we wanted none; the best that a man could lay his lips to in the whole City, was sent unto me from diverse parts and cor ners of the Town: as that of Monviedro, of Lugne, of Toro, of Ma drigall, of San-Martin, and many other Towns and Villages; And indeed so many, that albeit I still keep the differences of their taste and relish in my mouth, yet do I not retain the diversity of their foils in my remembrance. For it is enough for such and old woe man as I, that when a good cup of wine comes near my nose, I can be able to say, This is such a wine, or it comes from such a place, or person; why, your presents from all parts, from all sorts came upon me as thick as hops, as flies to a pot of honey, or as stones that are thrown upon a stage: boys came tumbling in at my door, with as much provision, as they could carry on their backs. But now those good days are passed, I have eaten all my white bred in my youth, and know not how in the world to live, being fallen from so happy and estate. Oh daughter! I have cause enough, I think, to weep, when I call to mind those pleasant days that are passed and gone, that mere ry life which then I led, and how I had the world at will, being sir ved, honoured, and sought to of all. Why, then there was not any new fruit, or any the Like dainty, which I had not in my hands, be before others knew they were scarce blossomed: in those days, they were sure to be found in my house, if any one with child should long for such a Toy. Daughter Lucrecia, passing over our former discourse, I pray you tell me what is the cause of your happy coming him there? What sayest thou, Daughter? Come, let us go. I will carry it along with me. Say, Lady, what is your disease, that you so lively ex press the tokens of your torment, in those your maiden blushes? It is well, even as I would have it. I will be even with you (you fool) for your yesterdays anger, I will make you pay for it with a witness. You have not, Madame, told me the quality of your dis ease; and would you have me divine of the cause? That which I say, is this, that I am heartily sorry to see your Ladyship so sad and so ill. Madame, as far as humane knowledge can discern of inward grief, I dare presume. And for as much, as for the health and remedy of infirmities, and diseases, these graces were imparted un to men, for the finding out of fit and convenient medicines, whereof some were attained to by experience, some by Art, and some by a natural instinct; some small portion of these good gifts, this poor old creature my self have got, who is here present to do you the best service she can. A great partly of health, is the desiring of health. And a good sign of mending, to be willing to mend. For which reason I reckon your grief the less, and hold it the less dangerous; But that I may minister a wholesome medicine unto you, and such a one as may be agreeable to your disease; it is requisite, that you first satisfy me in these three particulars. The first is, on which side of your body your pain does lie most? The second, how long you have had this pain; whither it hath taken you but of late, or no? For your newly growing infirmities are sooner cured in the tenderness of their growth, then when they have taken deep rooting by overlong persevering in their office: So beasts are So ner tamed when they are young, and more easily brought to the yoke, then when their hide is thoroughly hardened: So far better do those plants grow up, and prosper, which are removed when they are young and tender, then those that are transplanted, having long born fruit. The third is, whither this your evil hath proceeded of any cruel thought, which hath taken hold on you? This being made known, you shall see me set my self roundly to work a bout your cure; for it is very fit and convenient, that you should open the whole truth, as well to your Physician, as your Confess sour. What, Madame? Is Calisto so bade a man? Is his name so bade; that only but to name him, should, upon the very found there of, send forth such poison? Deceive not your self; Do not be leave that this is the cause of your grief: I have another thing in the wind, there is more in't then so; but since you make it so dain tie, if your Ladyship will give me leave, I will tell you the cause of it. Madame, think it not strange, that it is harder for him that is wounded, to endure the torment of hot-scalding Turpentine, and the sharp incisions, which gall the heart, and double the pain; then the wound that is newly inflicted on him that his whole. And therefore, if you be willing to be cured, and that I should discover unto you the sharp point of my needle, without any fear at all, frame for your hands and feet a bound of patience and of quietness; for your eyes, a veil of pity and compassion; for your tongue, a bridle of silence; for your ears, the bombast, or stuffing of suff rance and bearing; and then shall you see, what effects this old Mi stress in her Art, will work upon your wounds. One devil or other is still haunting me. One while here, another while there. I have escaped Parmeno, and have fallen upon Lucrecia. Your great pain and torment does likewise put boldness into me, as also that I perceive by your suspicion, you have already swallowed some partly of my cure. But notwithstanding it is needful, that we bring a more manifest remedy, and more wholesome mi tigation of your pain, from the house of that worthy one Calisto. Madame, I pray be patient. That which is the chief and principal pille must not be broken. For then all our labour is lost: your wound is great, and hath needs of a sharp cure. And hard hard, does smooth and mollify more effectually and more delicate lie. And wise men say, That the cure of a lancing behind it the greater skarre: And that without danger, no danger is overcome. Have patience then with your self. For seldom is that cured without pain, which in it self is painful. One nail drives out another. And one sorrow expels another. Do not con ceiue hatred nor disaffection, nor give your tongue leave to speak ill of so virtuous a person, as Calisto, whom, if you did but know him. Madame, this is that other, and main point in my cure; which if you, by your impatience will not consent unto, my come ming can little profit you. But if you will (as you promised) be patience ent, you shall remain found, and out of doubt, and Calisto be well paid, and have no cause to complain. I did before acquaint you with my cures, and with this invisible needle, which before it come at you to stitch up your wound, you feel it, only but having it in my mouth, and naming it unto you. It is a concealed fire; a pleasing wound; a savoury poy son; a sweet bitterness; a delightful grief; a cheerful torment; a sweet, yet cruel hurt; and a gentle death. Let not your noble youth be diffident of recovery; be of good cheer; take a good heart to you; and doubt not of your well fare: For where heaven gives a wound, there it gives a remedy; and as it , so it heals; and so much the sooner, because I know where the flower grows, that will free you from all this torment. not tell you. My most deer both Lady & friend, wonder not so much at this; for those ends, that have their effect, give me daringness to endure those craggy and dangerous byways, by which I come to such Recluses as your self. True it is, that until I had resolved with my self, as well on my way hitherward, as also here in your house, I stood in great doubt, whither were I best discover my peti cion unto you or no? When I did think on the great power of your father, then did I fear; but when withal, I weighed the nobleness of Calisto, then I grew bold again; when I observed your discre cion, I waxed timorous; but when I considered your virtue, and your courtesy, I recovered new courage: in the one, I found fear; in the other, safety. And since, Madame, you have been willing to grace me with the discovery of so great a favour, as now you have made known unto me, declare your will unto me, lay your see crets in my lap; put into my hands the managing of this matter, and I will give it such a form, as both you and Calisto shall very shortly accomplish your desires. See him? you shall both see him, and speak with him. Nothing is impossible to a willing mind. I have it in my head: Marry thus, within the doors of thy house. This night. Just when the clock strikes twelve. Farewell. Lo, yonder is your mother making hither ward. In my tongue. Nay, she is more yours then her own: more at your service and command, then of her father Pleberio. Noble Calisto, to such a poor weak old woman as my self, you have showed your self exceeding frank and liberal; but as every gift is esteemed great, or little, in regard of him that gives it, I will not therefore compare therewith my small desert, which it surpasses both in quality and quantity; but rather meam sure it with your magnificence, before which it is nothing. In re quitall whereof, I restore unto thee thy health, which was upon lo sing; thy heart, which was upon fainting; and thy wits, which were upon turning. Melibea is pained more for you, then you for her: Melibea loves you, and desires to see you: Melibea spends more hours in thinking upon you, then on her self: Melibea calls her self thine; and this she holds as a Title of liberty, and with this, she alleys that fire, which burns more in her, then thy self. The heart, that is wounded with desire, never entertain eth good news for certain; nor bade for doubtful. But whither I jest, or no; your self shall see, by going this night to her house (her self having agreed with me about the time) appointing you to be joust there as the clock strikes twelve, that you may talk toga there thorough the chinks of the door; from whose own mouth, you shall fully know my solicitude, and her desire, and the love which she bears unto you, and who hath caused it. I have often herd, that it is harder to suffer prosperous, then adverse fortune; because the one hath never any quietude, and the other still takes comfort. It is strange, Sir, that you will not consider who you are, nor the time that you have spent in her sir vice; nor the person, whom you have made to be your means: And likewise, that hitherto, thou hast ever been in doubt of having her, and yet didst still endure all with patience; and now, that I do certify unto thee the end of thy torment, wilt thou put and end to thy life? Consider, consider, I pray, with thy self, that Celestina is on thy side; and that although all should be wanting un to thee, which in a Lover were to be required, I would fell thee for the most complete gallant of the world; for I would make for thee mountains of most craggy rocks, to grow plain, and smooth. Nay, more, I would make thee go to thorough the deepest channel, or the lightest swelling sea, without wetting of thy foot: you know not on whom you have bestowed your Largess. I fear not that (wench:) For I consult with my self in the day, which way I shall go in the night; for I never go near any bridge, bench, pit or Causey: for (as it is in the Proverb) He goes not safe, nor never shall, who goes too close unto the wall: And he goes still most safe and found, whose steps are placed on plainest ground: and I had rather foul my shoes with dirt, then be-bloody my Kerchief at every walls corner. But does it not grieve thee to be here? Because the company I left here with you, is gone, and you are all alone. Indeed the sooner they left you, the more reason you had to think thereon; but let us leave to talk of their speedy going, and of my long staying, and let us first provide for our supper, and then for our sleep. Who calls? I have no sons that be abroad at this time of night. Oh you mad lads, you wanton wags, Enter, enter, how chance you come so early? It is but now break of day, what have you done? what hath passed? Tell me, how goes the world? Calisto's Hope's, are they alive or dead? Has he her, or has he her not? how stands it with him? Have you been in such danger, since I saw you? Tell me, how was it? How was it I pray? Fit down, I beseech you, and tell me how it was. Since it is spoiled and broken in your Master's service, go to your Master for more, let him (a Gods name) pay for it. Be sides, you know it is with him, but ask and have; he will present lie furnish you, I warrant you. For he is none of those who say to their servants: Live with me, and look out some other to main taine thee; he is so frank, and of so liberal a disposition, that he will not give thee money for this only, but much more, if need be. How wittily this Ass thinks he hath spoken! I swear to thee, by the reverence of this my old age, had these words been spoken after dinner, I should have said, that we had all of us taken a cup too much; that we had been all drunk. Art thou well in thy wits, Sempronio? What has thy remuneration to do with my reward? Thy payment with my merit? Am I bound to buy you weapons? Must I repair your losses, and supply your wants? Now I think upon it; let me be hanged, or die any other death, if thou hast not took hold of a little word, that carelessly slipped out of my mouth the other day, as we came along the street; for as (I remem ber) I then told you, that what I had was yours; and that I would never be wanting unto you in any thing, to the utmost of my poor ability; and that if Fortune did prosper my business with your Master, that you should loose nothing by it; But you know ( Sempro nio ) that words of compliment and kindness, are not obligatory, nor bind me to do, as you would have me; all is not gold that glisters, for then it would be a great deal cheaper then it is. Tell me ( Sempronio ) if I have not hit the right nail on the head? Thou mayest see by this, that though I am old, that I can divine as much as thou canst imagine. In good faith (Son) I am as full of grief, as ever my heart can hold, I am even ready to burst with sorrow and anguish. As soon as ever I came from your house, and was come home; I gave the chain I brought hither with me, to this fool Elicia, that she might look upon it, and cheer her self with the sighed thereof; and she, for her life, cannot as yet call to mind what she hath done with it: and all this livelong night, neither she nor I have slept one wink, for very thought and grief thereof: Not so much for the value of the chain (for it was not much worth) but to see, that she should be so careless in the laying of it up; and to see the ill luck of it; at the very same time that we missed it, came in some friends of mine, that had been of my old and fa miliar acquaintance; and I am sorely afraid, lest they have lighted upon it, and taken it away with them; meaning to make use of that vulgar saying, Si spy it, tum sport fac; Si non spy it, pack and away Jack. But now (my Sons) that I may come a little nearer unto you both, and speak home to the point: If your Master gave me any thing, what he gave me, that (you must think) is mine: As for your cloth of gold doublet, I never asked you any share out of it, nor ever will. We all of us serve him, that he may give unto us all, as he sees we shall deserve: And as for that which he hath given me, I have twice endangered my life for it; more blades have I blunted in his service then you both; more material and substantial stuff have I wasted, and have worn out more hose and shoes; And you must not think (my Sons) but all this costs me good money. Beside, my skill, which I God not playing or sitting still, or war ming my tail over the fire, as most of your idle huswives do, but with hard labour and painstaking: as Parmeno's mother could well witness for me, if she were living. This I have gained by mine own industry and labour; as for you, what have you done? If you have done any thing for Calisto, Calisto is to requite you. I get my living by my Trade and my travel; you, yours, with recreation and delight; and therefore you are not to expect equal recompense, enjoying your service with pleasure, as I, who go performing it with pains: but whatsoever I have hitherto said unto you, be cause you shall see, I will deal kindly with you: if my chain be found again, I will give each of you a pair of Scarlet Breeches, which is the comeliest habit that young men can wear. But if it be not found, you must accept of my good will, and my self be con tent to fit down with my lose; and all this I do out of pure love, because you were willing that I should have the benefit of manam ging this business before another: and if this will not content you, I cannot do withal. To your own harm be it. Why, what am I, Sempronio? What do you know me to be? Didst thou take me out of the Puteria? Broughtest thou me, as a whore, out of the Stews? Bridle your tongue for shame, and do not dishonour my hoary hairs. I am and old woman of Gods ma king, no worse then all other women are: I live by my occupation as other women do, very well, and handsomely; I seek not after those who seek not after me; they that will have me, come home to my house to fetch me; they come home, I say, and entreat me to do this or that for them. And for the life that I led, whither it be good or bade, heaven knows my heart: and do not think out of your choler to misuse me, for there is Law and Justice for all, and equal to all; and my tale, I doubt not, shall be as soon herd (though I am and old woman) as yours, for all you be so smoothly kembed. Let me alone, I pray, in mine own house, and with mine own fortune. And you, Parmeno, do not you think that I am thy slave, because thou knowest my secrets, and my life passed, and all those matters that happened betwixt me, and that unfortunate mother of thine; for she also was wont to use me on this fashion, when she was disposed to play her pranks with me. What third partly? A pocks on you both; out of my house in a devils name, you and your companion with you; do not you make such a stir here as you do. Cause not our neighbours to come about us, and make them think we be mad. Put me not out of my wits; make me not mad: you would not, I trow, would you, that Calisto's matters and yours should be proclaimed openly at the Cross? Here's a stir indeed. Ay me, I am slain. Ay, ay. Confession, Confession. Thy Master is well enough. He is not sick: and were he never so sick, never so much pained and grieved, I my self am able to cure him. I have the power to do it. Now that I am all alone, I will, as I walk by my self, weigh and consider that which Sempronio feared, concerning my travel in this business. For, those things which are not well weighed, and consi dered, though sometime they take good effect, yet commonly fallen out ill. So that much speculation brings forth much good fruit; for although I dissembled with him, and did set a good face on the matter, it may be, that if my drift and intent should chance to be found out by Melibea's father, it would cost me little less then my life: Or at least, if they should not kill me, I should rest much impaired in my credit, either by their tossing me in a blanket, or by causing me to be cruelly whipped; so that my sweet meats shall have sour sauce: and my hundred Crowns in Gold be purchased at too deer a rate; Ay wretched me into what a Laby rinth have I put my self? What a trap am I Like to fallen into, through mine own folly? For that I might show my self solicitous and re solute, I have put my self upon the hazard of the dice. Woe is me; what shall I do? To go back, is not for my profit; and to go on, stands not with my safety. Shall I persist? or shall I desist? In what a strait am I? In what a doubtful and strange perplexity? I know not which I were best to choose. On my daringness depen death manifest danger; on my cowardice shameful damage. Which way shall the Ox go, out he must needs plough? Every way, go which way I will, discovers to my eyes deep and dangerous fur rows; desperate downfalls; if I be taken in the manner; if the theft be found about me, I shall be either killed, or carted, with a paper-crown set upon my head, having my fault written in great Text-letters. But in case I should not go, what will Sempronio then say? Is this all thou canst do? Thy power, thy wisdom, thy stoutness, thy courage, thy large promises, thy fair offers, thy tricks, thy subtleties, & the great care (forsooth) thou wouldst take; What? are they all come to this? And his Master Calisto, what will he say? what will he do? or what will he think? save only this; That there is much deceit in my steps; and that I have disco uered this blot to Pleberio, Like a prevaricating Sophistresse, or cun ning Ambidexter, playing the traitor on both sides, that I might gain by both? And if he do not entertain so hateful a thought, he will rail upon me Like a madman; he will upbraid me to my face, with most reproachful terms; He will propose a thousand in conveniences, which my hasty deliberation was the cause of; say king, Out you old whore; Why didst thou increase my passion with thy promises? False Bawd as thou art; For all the world be sides, thy feet can walk, for me only thy tongue; Others can have works; I only words. Others can have remedy at thy hands; I only the man that must endure torment. To all others, thy force can extend it self; and to me is it only wanting. To all others thou art Light; to me Darkness. Out thou old Treacherous, disloyal wertike; Why didst thou offer thy self and service unto me? For, it was thy offer that did put me in hope: and that hope did delay my death, prolonged my life, and did put upon me the Title of a glad man. Now, for that thy promises have not proved effectual, neither shalt thou want punishment, nor I woeful despair: so that, look I on which side I will (miserable man that I am) it is ill here, and it is ill there; pain & grief on either hand: But when extremes shall want their mean, and no means to avoid either the one or the other; of two cuils, it is the wiser course to incline to the less sir. And therefore I had rather offend Pleberio, then displease Calisto. Well then, I will go. For greater will my shamebe, to be con demeaned for a Coward, then my punishment, in daring to accom plish what I promised. Beside, Fortune still friendeth those that are bold and valiant. Lo, yonder's the gate; I have seen my self in greater danger then this in my days, Coraggio, Coraggio, Celestina; Be of good cheer; Be not dismayed; For, there are never suitors wanting for the mitigating, and allaying of punishment. All Divi nations are in my favour, and show themselves prospicious in my proceedings; or else I am no body in this my Art, a mere bungler, and Idiot, and Ass. Of four men that I meet by the way, three of them were John's; whereof two were Cuckolds. The first word that I herd, passing along the street, was a Love-complaint. I have not stumbled since I came forth, as at other times I used to do. e thinks the very stones of the street did sunder themselves one from another, to give me way as I passed. Nor did the skirts of my clothes wrumple up in troublesome folds, to hinder my feet. Nor do I feel any faintness, or weariness in my legs. Every one salutes me. Not a dog that hath once barked at me; I have neither seen any bird of a black feather, neither Thrush, nor Crow; nor any oh there of the Like unlucky nature; and which is a better sign of good luck then all these, yonder do I see Lucrecia, standing at Melibea's gate, which is kinswoman to Elicia: it cannot but go well with us; it is impossible we should miss of our purpose; All is Cocksure. Oh cruel encounter! Oh daring and discreet attempt! Oh great and singular sufferance! Oh how near had I been to my death, if my much subtlety and cunning craft had not shifted in time the sails of my suit! Oh braving menaces of a gallant Lady! Oh angry and enraged Damsel! Oh thou Devil whom I conjured! Oh how well hast thou kept thy word with me in all I that desired! I am much bound unto thee; so handsomely hast thou appeased this cruel Dame by thy mighty power, and afforded me so fit a place and opportunity, by reason of her mother's ab sense, to utter my mind unto her. Oh thou old Celestina; cheer up thy heart, and think with thy self; that things are half ended, when they are well begun! Oh thou oil of Serpents! Oh thou de licate white thread; how have you bestirred your selves in my but sinesse! whose favourable furtherance if I had not found, I would utterly have broken and destroyed all the enchantments which ei there I have already, or hereafter are to be made; nor would I ever any more have had any belief in herbs, stones, or words. Be merry then (old Stinkard) Frolic with thy self (old wench) for, thou shalt get more by this one suit, then by soldering of fifteen cracked Maidenheads. A pocks upon these long and large plaitings in my Petticoats; Fie how they rumple and fold themselves about my legs, hindering my feet from hasting thither, whither I de sire my good news should come. Oh good fortune, what a friend art thou to the valiant! what a foe to those that are fearful! Nor by flying does the Coward fly death. Oh how many failed of that which I have effected! How many have struck at, but missed that nail, which my self only have hit on the head! What in so strong and dangerous a strait as this, would these young Graduates in my Art have done! Perhaps have bolted out some foolish word or other to Melibea, whereby they would have lost as much by their prattling, as I have gained by my silence. And therefore it is and old saying; Let him play that hath skill: and that the better Physici and is he that hath experience, then he that hath learning; For experience, and frequent warnings, make men Artists in their professions; and it must be such and old woman as I am, who at eve ry little Channel holds up her coats, and treads the streets with leisurely steps, that shall prove a Proficient in her trade. Oh girdle, my pretty girdle, let me hug thee a little! Oh how my heart leaps in looking upon thee! If I live, I will make thee bring her to me by force, who is so unwilling to come to me of her own ac cord, that I had much ado to get a good word from her. Parmeno, my son; since we last talked to gether, I have not had any fit opportunity to express unto thee the infiniteness of that love which I bear unto thee, and as all the world can well witness for me, how well I have spoken of thee in thy absence. Every man, ear hath been filled with the good reports I have made of thee. The reason there of I needs not to repeat; for I ever held thee to be my son, at least, by adoption; and therefore thought thou wouldst have showed thy self more natural and loving towards me. But in stead there of, thou gavest me bade payment, even to my face; crossing, what soever I said; thinking ill of all that I spoke; whispering and mur muring against me in the presence of Calisto. I was well persuaded, that after thou hadst once yielded to my good counsel, that you would not have turned your heel, and kicked against me as you did, nor have fallen off from your promise. But notwithstanding all this, I perceive some old relic yet still remaining of my former folly. And so speaking rather to satisfy thine own humour, then that thou nst render any reason for it; thou dost hinder thy self of profit, to give thy tongue contentment. Hear me (my son) if thou hast not herd me already. Look I, say, and consider with thy self, that I am old, and well strucken in years; and good counsel only lod geth with the elder sort, it being proper to youth, to follow pleasure and delight. But my hope is, that of this thy error, thy youth one lie is in fault: and I trust that you will bear your self better to wards me hereafter, and that you will altar your ill purpose, to gether with your tender years; For as it is in the Proverb: Our customs suffer change, together with our hairs; and we vary our disposition, as we vary our years. I speak this (my son) be cause as we grow in age, so grow we in experience; new things daily offering themselves to our view: for youth looks no farther then to things present, occupying his eye only in that he sees set before him; but riper years omit neither things present, things passed, nor things to come. And son Parmeno, if you would but bethink your self of the love I have heretofore born you, I know it cannot escape your knowledge, that the first nights lodging that you took, when you were a stranger, and came newly to this City, was in my house. But you young men care not for us that are old; but govern your selves according to the savour and relish of your own palates; you never think that you have, or shall have needs of us: you never think upon sickness; you never think, that this flower of your youth shall fade. But do you hear me, (my friend) and mark what I say unto you; That in such cases of necessity, as these, and old woman, (be she well experienced) is a good help, a comforter, a friend, a mother; nay, more then a mother: A good Inn, to give ease and rest to a found man; and a good Hospital for to cure a sick man; a good Purse in time of needs; a good Chest, to keep money in prosperi tie; a good Fire in winter, environed with spits of good rost-meat; a good Shade in summer, and a good Tavern to eat and drink in. Now my pretty little fool, what sayest thou to all this? What dost thou think of it? I know, thou art by this time ashamed of that which thou hast spoken to day; thou canst not say B to a Battledoor; thou art struck so dumb, and so dead: and therefore I will press thee no further, nor crave any more at thy hands, then that which friendship craves of thee, which is, Look upon Sempronio; next under heaven, my self have made him a man; I could wish you would live and love together as brother's and friends: for being in league with him, thou shalt live in the favour and love of thy Master, and in good repute with all the world: for Sempronio, I tell thee, is well beloved, he is diligent, a good Courtier, a proper servant, a fellow of a good fashion, and one that is willing to embrace thy friendship, which will turn to both your profits, if you will but handfast your affections each to other. Beside, you know, that you must love, if you will be beloved. Trowtes cannot be taken with dry breeches. And if the Cat will have fish, she must wet her foot. Nor does Sempronio owe this of right unto thee; nor is he bound to love thee, unless thou exchange love for love: it is mere simplicity, not to be willing to love, and yet look to be beloved of others. And as great folly, to repay friendship with hatred. Oh thrice happy day! would I were at home with all my joy, wherewith I go laden. But I see Parmeno and Sempronio going to the Mi tle-Groue: I will after them. And if I meet with Calisto there, we will all along together to his house, to demand a re ward for the great good news that I bring him. My good Lady; All blessings abide with you, and your noble daughter. My many griefs and infirmities have hindered my visiting of this your house, as in duty I was bound to do; But heaven knows how fair are the entrails of my inward affection, how free from any spot of foulness. It knows the sincerity of my heart, and trunesse of my love. For, distance of place displaceth not that love, which is lodged in the heart: So that what heretofore in my self I did much desire, now my necessity hath made me to perform. And amongst other my many Crosses and Misery's in this life, my Crosses in my purse grow daily less and less; so that I have no better remedy to help my self withal, and to relieve this my poor estate, then to fell this little parcel of yarn of mine own spinning to make Coifs, and Kerchiefs; and understanding by your maid, that you had needs thereof (howbeit I am poor in eve ry thing, I praise my fate, save the richness of this grace) it is who lie at your command, if either it or I may do you any service. What, Son? A dozen of points, a hat, or a stonebow, to go from house to house shooting at birds, aiming at other birds with your eye, that take their standing in windows. I mean pretty wenches (you fool) such birds (you madcap) as have no wings to fly from you: you know my meaning, Sir; for there is no better Bawd, for them, then a bow: under colour whereof, thou mayest enter any house whatsoever, making it thy excuse to seek after some bird thou shootst at, &c. It is your only delicate trick you can use. But woe ( Sempronio ) unto her, who is to uphold and maintain her credit, and begins to grow old, as I now do. That Traveler (Lady) were a fool, who having tired out himself with a hard days travel, would, to begin his journey again, desire to return to the same place, from whence he came. For all those things, whose possession is no whit pleasing, it is better to enjoy them as they are, then to desire their longer stay. For then are they so much the nearer to their end, by how much the farther they are from their beginning. Nor is there any thing in the world more sweet, or more pleasing to him that is truly weary, then his Inn, wherein he may rest himself. So that though youth be a thing very io und, yet he that is truly old, does not desire it. But he indeed that wants reason and true understanding, that man in a manner loves nothing else, but the days that are passed and gone. Whilst your choler lives, my cause must needs die. And the longer your anger lasteth, the less shall my excuse be herd. But wonder not that you should be thus rigorous with me: For a little heat will serve to set young blood a boiling. So great, daughter? hold you this so great a meeting? It appears that you have not known me in my prosperity, which is now some twenty years since. There be those that have seen me in better case then I am now; and he that now sees me, I wonder his heart does not burst with sorrow. I tell thee, (wench) I have seen at this table, where your kinswomen now fit, nine gallant young wenches, much about your age; for the eldest was not above eighteen, and not one of them under four teen. But such is this world, it comes and goes upon wheels. We are Like pots in a water-wheel, or Like buckets in a Well; one up, and another down, one full, and another empty; it is Fortune's Law, that nothing can continue any long time in one, and the self same state of being. Her order is alteration; Her custom, change. I cannot without tears deliver unto you the great honour I then lived in; though now, (such is my ill fortune) by little and little, it hath gone decaying And as my days declined; so diminished and decreased my profit. It is and old saying; That whatsoever is in this world, it does either increase or decrease. Every thing hath it's li mits; Every thing it's degrees of more or less: my honour did mount to that height, as was fitting for a woman of my quality to rise unto; and now of force, it must descend and fallen as much: By this I know, that I am near to my end, and that the Lease of my life is now expiring, and all my years are almost spent and gone: and I also well know, that I did ascend, that I might descend; that I flourished, for to wither; that I had joy, that I might have sorrow; that I was born to live; lived, to grow; grew, to grow old; and grow old to die: and though it did always appear unto me, that I ought in this respect to suffer my misery the more patiently, yet as I am formed of flesh and blood and bear this heavy mass of sin about me, I cannot but think on't now and then with grief, nor can I wholly as I would, blot every thought thereof out of the woeful role of my wretched remembrance. What will you have me to do (my precious pearl?) Whence arose this sudden qualm? I believe, my points are bro ken.