OPHIONEUS

Hold Rascal, hang thy self in these days? The only time that ever was for a Rascal to live in? Either th'art not rascal nor villain enough; Or else thou dost not pretend honesty And piety enough to disguise it. A villain worse then thou. I speak thou hearest, I move, my pulse beats Fast as thine. The world's out of frame, a thousand Rulers Wresting it this way, and that, with as many Religions; when, as heavens upper Sphere is moved Only by one; so should the Sphere of earth be, and I'll have it so. My shape may tell thee. Man? no, spawn of a clot, none of that cursed Crew, damned in the mass it self; plagued in his birth, Confined to creep below, and wrestle with the Elements; Teach himself tortures; kill himself, hang himself; No such galley slave, but at war with heaven; Spurning the power of the gods, command the Elements. And endless friend of thine; and immortal devil. Nay then, forth, go, hang thy self, and thou talkest Of heaven once. Read the old stoic Pherecides, that tells thee Me truly, and says that I Ophioneus (for so is My name.) Devilish Serpent, by interpretation; was general Captain of that rebellious host of spirits that Waged war with heaven. We were so; and yet have the rule of earth; and cares Any man for the worst of hell then? Fronto? A good one; and has Fronto lived thus long In Room ? lost his state at dice? murdered his Brother for his means? spent all? run thorough worse Offices since? been a Promoter? a Purveyor? a Pander? A Sumner? a Sergeant? and Intelligencer? and at last Hang thy self? Why thou art a most green Plover in policy, I Perceive; and mayest drink Golte-foote, for all thy Horsemane beard: 'Slight, what needs hast Thou to hang thy self? as if there were a dearth Of hangmen in the land? Thou livest in a good cheap State, a man may be hanged here for a little, or Nothing. What's the reason of thy desperation? Go to, thou shalt serve me, choose thy profession; And what cloth thou wouldst wish to have thy Coat Cut out on. Shall I be thy learned Counsel? Be and Archflamen then, to one of the Gods. A Priest. No Clerk? what then? The greatest Clerks are not the wisest men. Nor skills it for degrees in a knave, or a fools preferment, Thou shalt rise by fortune: let desert rise leisurely Enough, and by degrees; fortune prefers headlong, And comes Like riches to a man; huge riches being God with little pains; and little with huge pains. And For discharge of the Priesthood, what thou wantest In learning, thou shalt take out in goodfellowship: Thou shalt equivocate with the Sophister, prate with The Lawyer, scrape with the Usurer, drink with the Dutchman, swear with the French man, cheat With the English man, brag with the Scot, and Turn all this to Religion, Hoc est regnum Deorum Gentibus. Very good, wilt thou show thy self deeply learned too, And to live licentiously here, care for nothing hereafter? For hell? soft Sir; hopest thou to purchase hell With only dicing or whoring away thy living? Murdering thy brother, and so forth? No there Remain works of a higher hand and deeper brain, To obtain hell. Thinkest thou earth's great Potentates have got their places there with Any single act of murder, poisoning, adutery, And the rest? No; 'tis a purchase for all manner Of villainy; especially, that may be privileged By Authority; coloured with holiness, and enjoyed With pleasure. Why such and admirable honourable villain shalt Thou be. Make no doubt on't; I'll inspire thee. Away; Companion and friend, give me thy Hand; say, dost not love me? art not enamoured Of my acquaintance? Well said, protest and 'tis enough. And know for Infallible; I have promotion for thee; both here, and Hereafter; which not one great one amongst Millions shall ever aspire to. Alexander, nor great Cyrus, retain those titles in hell, that they did On earth: No: he that sold Seacoale here, shall be A Baron there; he that was a cheating Rogue here, shall be a Justice of peace there; A knave here, a knight there. In the mean Space, learn what it is to live; and thou shalt Have Chopines at commandment to any height Of life thou canst wish. Too low fool? hast thou not herd of Vulcan's falling Out of heaven? Light a thy legs, and no matter Though thou haltest with thy best friend ever after; 'tis The more comely and fashionable. Better go lame In the fashion with Pompey, then never so upright, Quite out of the fashion with Cato. No? I can wear Roses that shall spread quite Over them. Go to; I will hereafter. No? what sayest thou to a rich office then? Go to; I'll help thee to the bestith earth then: And that's in Sicilia ; the very storehouse of the Romans, where the Lord chief Censor there Lies now a dying; whose soul I will have; and Thou shalt have his office. Well said; what's thy name now?