ALUPIS

For it's but a folly, &c. For it's but a folly, &c. What if I be? I hope it's no discredit for me Sir? For in this age who is not? I'll prove it to you, Your Citizen he's mad to trust the Gentleman Both with his wares and wife. Your Courtier He's mad to spend his time in studying postures, Cringes, and fashions, and new compliments; Your Lawyer he's mad to fell away His tongue for money, and his Client madder To buy it of him, since it's of no use But to undo men, and the Latin tongue; Your Scholars they are mad to break their brains, Outwatch the Moon, and look more pale then she, That so when all the Arts call him their Master, He may perhaps get some small Vicarage, Or be the Usher of a School; but there's A thing in black called Poet, who is ten Degrees in madness above these; his means Is what the gentle Fates please to allow him By the death or marriage of some mighty Lord, Which he must solemnize with a new song. Worst of all; Is't not a pretty folly to stand thus, And figh, and fold the arms, and cry my Coelia, My soul, my life, my Calia, then to wring Ones state for presents, and ones brain for Sonnets? Oh! it's beyond the name of Frenzy. Why, I'll tell you Sir: My father died, (you force me to remember A grief that deserves tears) and left me young, And (if a Shepherd may be said so) rich, I in and itching wantonness to see What other Swains so wondered at, the City, Straight sold my rural portion (for the wealth Of Shepherds is their flocks) and thither went, Where whilst my money lasted I was welcome, And lived in credit, but when that was gone, And the last piece sighed in my empty pocket, I was contemned, then I began to feel How dearly I had bought experience, And without any thing beside repentance To load me, returned back, and here I live To laugh at all those folly's which I saw. The merry waves dance up and down, and play, Sport is granted to the Sea. Birds are the queristers of empty air, Sport is never wanting there. The ground does smile at the Springs flowery birth, Sport is granted to the earth. The fire it's cheering flame on high does rear, Sport is never wanting there. If all the elements, the Earth, the Sea, Air, and fire, so merry be; Why is men mirth so seldom, and so small, Who is compounded of them all? Now on my conscience thou hast lost a Mistress; If it be so, thank God, and love no more; Or else perhaps she'has burned your whining letter, Or kissed another Gentleman in your sighed, Or else denied you her glove, or laughed at you, Causes indeed, which deserve special mourning, And now you come to talk with your God Cupid In private here, and call the Woods to witness, And all the streams which murmur when they hear The injuries they suffer; I am sorry I have been a hindrance to your meditations, Farewell Sir. Faith, I am very chary of my health, I would be loath to be infected Sir. Why that's the worst, the worst of all. The good Gods forbid it; J turn Physician? My Parents brought me up more piously, Then that I should play booty with a sickness, Turn a consumption to men's purses, and Purge them, worse then their bodies, and set up And Apothecaries shop in private chambers, Live by revenue of closestools and urinals, Defer off sick men's health from day to day As if they went to law with their disease. No, I was born for better ends, then to send away His Majesties Subject's to hell so fast, As if I were to share the stakes with Charon. So then: I should be Your souls Physician; why, I could talk out And hour or so, but then I want a cushion To thump my precepts into; but tell me pray, What name bears your disease? So; I understand you, You are a lover, which is by translation A fool, or a beast, for I'll define you; you're Partly Chamaeleon, partly Salamander, You're fed by the, and live in the fire. In-faith, I think not; I have seen all your beauties of the Court, And yet was never ravished, never made A doleful Sonnet unto angry Cupid, Either to warm her heart, or else cool mine, And no face yet could ever wound me so, But that I quickly found a remedy. I shall: for it's both easily taught and learned, Come sing away the day, &c. Mirth is the only physic, Pray let me learn it first. Thank you; if you your self chance to forget it Come but to me I'll do you the same courtesy, In the mean while make me your servant Sir, I will instruct you in things necessary For the creation of a Shepherd, and We two will laugh at all the world securely, And fling jests'gainst the businesses of state Without endangering our ears. Come, come away, For'tis but a folly To be melancholy, Let's live here whilst we may. Nay come, put on too. Come on: For it's but a folly, &c: O! here's another must have a kiss: Why he shall kiss thee, never fear it, alas! I did but jest, he'll do't for all this, Nay, because I will be a Patron to thee I'll speak to him. Come, come away, &c. Now where are all your sonnets? your rare fancies? Could the fine morning music which you waked Your Mistress with, prevail no more then this? Why in the City now your very Fiddlers Good morrow to your worship, will get something, Hath she denied thee quite? No, by this light, not till I see you cry; When you have shed some penitential tears For wronging of Palaemon, there may be A truce concluded betwixt you and me. Poor Shepherd, I begin to pity him. I'll see if J can comfort him; Palaemon, — Well, I say Pan defend me from a lover Of all tame madmen certainly they're the worst, I would not meet with two such creatures more For any good, they without doubt would put me, If it be possible into a fit of sadness, Though it Be but a folly, &c. Well; I must find some plot yet to salve this Because I have engaged my wit in the business, And 'twould be a great scandal to the City If I who have spent my means there, should not be Able to cheat these shepherd's. How now, how now, Have we more distressed lovers here? Enter Aphron. No in good troth. Prithee do, for thou Art in and admirable case to teach now, Yes, yes, I see one of the zealous sisters Mingled in friendship with a holy Brother To beget Reformations. Hold? why I'll warrant thee it shall hold, Till we have tied you both in wedlock fast, Then let the bonds of Matrimony hold you If it'll, if that will not neither, I can tell you What will I'm sure; A Halter. Then sing, &c. — Nay, if you scold so loud Others shall know it too; He must stop your mouth, Or you'll talk on this three hours; Callidorus If you can patiently endure a stink, Or have frequented ere the City Bear-garden, Prithee salute this fourscore years, and free me, She says you're welcome too. What, thou hast don't? Well if thou dost not die upon't, hereafter Thy body will agree even with the worst And stinking'st air in Europe. Prithee good Callidorus if her breath Be not too bade, go stop her mouth again, She'll scold till night else. Prithee be quiet, leave but talking to me And I will never jeer thee any more, We two will be so peaceable hereafter. So, I'm delivered, why how now Lads? What have you lost your tongues? I'll have them cried, Palaemon, Aegon, Callidorus, what? Are you all dumb? I pray continue so, And i'll be merry with my self. It's better to dance then sing, The cause is if you will know it, That I to my self shall bring A Poverty Voluntary If once I grow but a Poet. Oh yes, because here's none do dance, And both are better far then to be sad. A match; Palaemon whither go you? It's such a whining fool; come, come, Melarnus. Come Hilace, thee and I wench I warrant thee, You and your wife together. God bless you; so— For it's but a folly, &c. Dance. So farewell, you'll come along with me. Can no persuasions move her? It's a good hearing; then She'll cost you no more pairs of Turtle Doves, Nor garlands knit with amorous conceits, I do perceive some rags of the Court fashions Visibly creeping now into the woods, The more he shows his love, the more she slights him, Yet will take any gift of him, as willingly As Country Justices the Hens and Geese Of their offending neighbours; this is right; Now if I loved this wench I would so handle her, I'de teach her what the difference were betwixt One who had seen the Court and City tricks, And a mere shepherd. Yet if I saw such wonders in her face As you do, I should never doubt to win her. You mistake me Friend; I mean not so. No, no, no; that's not the way. I, and you were a most rare fool for doing so, Why 'twas that poisoned all; Had I a Mistress I'de almost Beatrice her, by this light, I would, For they are much about your Spaniels nature, But while you cry deer Hylace, o Hylace! Pity the tortures of my burning heart, She'll always mince it, Like a Citizens wife, At the first asking; though her tickled blood Leaps at the very mention; therefore now Leave off your whining tricks, and take my counsel. First then be merry; For it's but a folly, &c. Why thou shalt see it will; next I would have thee To laugh at her, and mock her pitifully; Study for jeers against next time you see her, I'll go along with you, and help to abuse her, Till we have made her cry, worse then ever you did; When we have used her thus a little while, Shee'le be as tame and gentle. — I'll warrant thee: beside, what if it should? She hath refused you utterly already. And cannot hurt you worse; come, come, be ruled; And follow me, we'll put it straight in practice. For it's but a folly, &c. For it's but a folly, &c. To what purpose? You'd ask how many shepherd's she hath strooken, Which is the properest man? which kisses sweetest? Which brings her the best presents? And then tell What a fine man wooes you, how red his lips are? How bright his eyes are? and what dainty sonnets He hath composed in honour of your beauty? And then at last, with what rare tricks you fool him? These are your learned discourses; but were all Men of my temperance, and wisdom too, You should woo us, I, and woo hardly too Before you God us. Nay, you have both a mind to me; I know it, But I will marry neither; I come hither Not to gaze on you, or extol your beauty; I come to vex you. Why? have you God a Patent to restrain me? Or do you think your glorious suit can fright me? 'Twould do you much more credit at the Theater, To rise betwixt the Acts, and look about The boxes, and then cry, God save you Madame, Or hear you out in quarreling at and Ordinary, And make your oaths become you; have you shown Your gay apparel every where in town, That you can afford us the sighed oft, or Hath that Grand Devil whose eclipped sergeant, Frighted you out of the City? Well, if it be so, I hope you can forgive the sin that's passed Without the doleful sighed of trickling tears, For I have eyes of pumice; I'm content To let her rest in quiet, but you have given me Free leave to abuse you, on the condition You will revenge it only with neglect, For then it's rashness only. Where I paid deer enough a conscience for them, They should be more then fragments by their price, I bought them sir, even from the very Merchant's, I scorned to deal with your poor City pedlars, that fell By retail: But let that pass; For it's but a folly: I and felt it too, I thank the Devil; I'm sure It sucked up in three years the whole estate My father left, though he were counted rich, A pox of forlorn Captains, pitiful things, Whom you mistake for soldiers, only by Their sounding oaths, and a buff jerkin, and Some Histories which they have learned by roate, Of battles fought in Persia, or Poloniam, Where they themselves were of the conquering side, Although God knows one of the City Captains, Armed with broad scarf, feather and scarlet breeches, When he instructs the youth on Holy-days, And is made sick with fearful noise of Guns, Would pose them in the art Military; these Were my first Leeches. Pish, these were nothing: I grew to keep your Poets company Those are the soakers, they refined me first Of those gross humours that are bred by money And made me straight a wit, as now you see, For it's but a folly. Yes now you are here; You are as good a theme as I could wish. What are you vanishing coy Mistress Hylace ? Nay, I'll be with you straight, but first I'll fetch Palaemon, now if he can play his partly And leave off whining, we'll have princely sport, Well, I may live in time to have the women Scratch out my eyes, or else scold me to death, I shall deserve it richly: Farewell Sir: I have employment with the Damsel gone And cannot now intend you. Exit. Nay come, she's just behind us, are you ready? When she scolds, be you low deft, if she cry Then laugh abundantly, thus we will vex her Into a good conceit of you. Good! she abuses him Now it's a miracle he does not cry. Good boy'faith: now let me come. Here's a fine Ring, I faith, a very pretty one, Do your teeth water at it Damsel? would? Why we will fell our sheep, and oxen, girl, Hang them scurvy beasts, to buy you pretty knacks That you might laugh at us, and call us fools And jeer us too, as far as your wit reaches, Bid us be gone, and when we have talked two hours, Deny to answer us; Nay you must stay She offers to be gone. And hear a little more. Faith but you shall; hear therefore and be patient. I'll have thee made a Lady, yes a Lady, For when thou'st God a chain about thy neck And comely bobes to dandle in thine ears; When thou'st perfumed thy hair, that if thy breath Should be corrupted, it might escape unknown, And then bestowed two hours in curling it, Uncovering thy breast hither, thine arms hither, And had thy Fucus curiously laid on; Thou'dst be the finest proud thing, I'll warrant thee Thou wouldst outdo them all. So, now go thee to her And let me breathe a little; For it's but a folly, &c. Here's a precious fool. I told you this, That if she should but frown, you must needs fallen To your old tricks again. I gave a shrewd guess at it at first sighed I thought thee little better. A good resolution! It's as gentile a course as you can take, I have known great ones have not been ashamed of't, But what cause pray drove you into this humour? Whose is't? Jupiters? The Bull? it's well, the fellows of the Guard Intend not to come thither; if they did The Gods might chance to loose their beef. A Welshman is't not? I, I, Alderman-like a walking after dinner, His paunch orechargd with capon and with white broth. No by my troth, there are so few on earth, I should be loath to swear there's more in heaven, Then only one. I prithee do, for amongst all the beasts That help to make up the celestial signs There's a Calf wanting yet. Nay, I have learned enough Astrology. No doubt you will; But you shall needs no victuals, when you have ended Your toilsome journey, kill the Ram you talk of, And feed your self with most celestial mutton. By this good light he'll snuff the Moon anon, Here's words indeed would fright a Conjurer It's pity that these huge Gigantic speeches Are not upon the stage, they would do rarely For none would understand them, I could wish Some Poet here now, with his table-book. To me good Sir, It may perhaps raise me a great estate With showing it up and down for pence apiece A brave Castilian name. Farewell Done Hercules Alcido de secundo. If thou scar'st any, it'll be by that name. This is a wonderful rare fellow, and I Like his humour mightily—who's here? The Chronicle of a hundred years ago! How many crows hath she outlived? sure death Hath quite forgotten her; by this Memento mori I must invent some trick to help Palaemon. I so thou Wertenberg I'll warrant; here's good sign of't Now I'll begin the work, Reverend Truga, Whose very Autumn shows how glorious The springtime of your youth was— I do confess indeed my former speeches Have been too rude and saucy; I have flung Mad jests too wildly at you; but considering The reverence which is endue to age, and virtue, I have repented, will you see my tears? And believe them? O for and onion now! Or J shall laugh aloud; would, would, would!) Aside. You might well, But the right valuing of your worth and virtue Hath turned the folly of my former scorn Inro a wiser reverence, pardon me If I say love. O! it grieves me That you should doubt it, what I spoke before Were lies, the offspring of a foolish rashness, I see some sparks still of your former beauty Which spite of time still flourish. O no, o no, (I see it takes) Aside. How you belly your age— for— let me see— A man would take you—let me see— for— Some forty years or thereabouts (I mean four hundred) Not a jot more J swear. Aside. I have something here Which I would feign reveal to you, but dare not Without your licence. The comely gravity which adorns your age, And makes you still seem lovely, hath so strucken me— That I shall perish utterly, unless Your gentle nature help me. O no! Wise nature which preserved your life till now Does it because you should enjoy these pleasures Which do belong to life, if you deny me, I am undone. Ah pretty soul! Aside. How supple it's Like wax before the Sun Now cannot I choose but kiss her, there's the plague of it, Let's then join our hearts, and seal them with a kiss Lest her husband chance To see't; she cannot deny this, here's enough; My Scoene of love is done then, is she gone? I'll call her back; ho Truga; Truga hô: And do you love him? Yet you can be content to make him cuckold Why art thou now two hundred years of age, Yet hast no more discretion but to think That I could love thee? would, would, were't mine I'de fell thee to some gardener, thou wouldst serve To scare away the thieves aswell as crows. Nay, I'm in very earnest; I love you? Why thy face is a vizard. It's known that thou hast eyes by the holes only, Which are crept farther in, then thy nose out, And that's almost a yard; thy quarreling teeth Of such a colour are, that they themselves Scare one another, and do stand at distance. Thy skin hangs lose as if it feared the bones (For flesh thou hast not) and is grown so black That a wild Centaur would not meddle with thee. To conclude, Nature made thee when she was Only disposed to jest, and length of time Hath made thee more ridiculous. No, no; soft there: I intend to bestow it on your husband; He'll keep it better far then you have done. No, I'll come to you in the afternoon Your husband will be selling of some kine And Hylace tending the sheep. Yes, yes, I will be silent, I'll only blow a trumpet on yond hill, Till all the country swains are flocked about me. Then show the ring, and tell the passages betwixt you and me. Well now it's ripe; I have had sport enough Since I behold your penitential tears I'll propose this to you, if you can get Your Daughter to be married to Palaemon This day, for I'll allow no longer time; To morrow I'll restore your ring, and swear Never to mention what is passed betwixt us, If not— you know what follows— take your choice. Go make hast then, You know your time's but short, and use it well: Now if this fail the Devil's in all wit. I'll go and thrust it forward, if it take, I'll sing away the day, For it's but a folly To be melancholy, Let's live here while we may. And what am I? I do; For it's, &c. — You, Winter, Ho, you that the grave expected Some hundred years ago, you that intend To live till you turn Skeleton, and make All men weary of you but Physicians, Pox on you, will you come. Alas! he'll leave that straight When he has God but money; he that swims In Tagus, never will go back to Helicon. beside, when he hath married Hylace Whom should he woo, to praise her comely feature, Her skin Like falling snow, her eyes Like stars, Her cheeks Like roses (which are common places Of all your lovers praises) ôh! those vanities, Things quite as light, and foolish as a Mistress, Are by a Mistress first begotten, and left When they leave her. Pox on your arts, Let him think what he will; what's that to us? Rot on your possibles — Thy mouth Like a cracked fiddle never sounds But out of tune; Come, put on Truga You'll never speak unless I show the ring. Well acted by God Pan, see but what it's To have me for a tutor in these rogueries. By Pan he'll make him promise him particularly Each thing above the value of a Beans-straw. You'll leave him the pails too, to milk the Kine in, And harness for the horses, will you not? Would, would, I'll have such excellent sport For it's but a folly, &c. Who's here? a most rare posture! How the good soul folds in his arms! he dreams Sure that he hugs his Mistress now, for that Is his disease without all doubt, so, good, With what judicious garb he plucks his hat Over his eyes; so, so, good! better yet; He cries; by this good light, he cries; the man Is careful, and intends to water his sheep With his own tears; would, would, would, would. I see nothing in good troth but you, I act a partly? it must be in a Comedy then, I abhor Tragedies: beside, I never Practised this posture; Heigh ho! woe, alas! Why do I live? my music is my sighs While tears keep time. Faith it will be but labour lost to Beatrice me, All will not teach me how to act this partly; Woe's me! alas! I'm a dull rogue, and so Shall never learn it. Enjoy them then, Here's no body desires to rob you of them. I would have left your company without bidding, It's not so pleasant, I remember well, When I had spent all my money, I stood thus And therefore hate the posture ever since. D'yee hear? I'm going to a wedding now; If you'ave a mind to dance, come along with me, Bring your hardhearted Mistress with you too, Perhaps I may persuade her, and tell her Your Music's sighs, and that your tears keep time. Will you not go? Farewell then, good Tragical actor. Now have at thee Melarnus; For it's but a folly, &c. Exit Thrice, and thrice You were a fool then for observing it. Why these are folly's the young years of Truga Did hardly know; are they not vanished yet? If you chanced to stumble. I, when I am, he may; yet if I were one I should not be dismayed because threshold— By this good light, I see no likelihood of any marriage, Except betwixt the Kine and oxen. Hark you hither; A rot upon your beasts; is Hylace ready? Thy memory's fled away sure with thy wit. Was not I here less then and hour ago With Aegon, when you made the match? I shall, if you thus make a fool of me. The business? why he's mad, beyond the cure Of all the herbs grow in Anticyram. Did not you examine Whither he would leave him all, lest that he should Adopt some other heir to the cheese-presses, The milking-pails, and creame-boules? did you not? Why I; did not the crow on the oak foretell you this? How? I'll begin. May his sheep rot, and he for want of food Be forced to eat them then; may every man Abuse him, and yet he not have the wit To abuse any man, may he never speak More sense then he did now; and may he never Be rid of his old wife Truga, may his son In Law be a more famous Cuckold made Then any one I knew when I lived in the City. May a disease seize upon all his Cattle, And a far worse on him; till he at last Be carried to some Hospital i'the City, And there killed by a Chirurgeon for experience. And when he's gone, I'll wish this good thing for him, May the earth lie gently on him— that the dogs May tear him up the easier. And yet if this had prospered (as I wonder Who it should be, betrayed us, since we three And Truga only knew it, whom, if she Betrayed us, I—) if this, I say, had prospered, You would have hugged me for inventing it, And him for putting it in act; foolish men That do not mark the thing but the event! Your judgements hang on Fortune, not on reason My villainy? do what ye can: you're fools, And there's and end; I'll talk with you no more, I had as good speak reason to the wind As you, that can but hiss at it. Which he will never do; nay, go and plod, Your two wise brains will invent certainly Politic begins to catch me in. Exeunt. And now have at thee Truga, if I find That thou art guilty; mum,—I have a ring.— Palaemon, Aegon, Hylace, Melarnus Are all against me; no great matter: hang care, For it's but a folly, &c. This way my Callidorus went, what chance Hath snatched him from my sighed? how shall I find him? How shall I find my self, now I have lost him? With ye my feet and eyes I will not make The smallest truce, till ye have sought him out. Come, now your business. The Gods bless you. I have something more; I come to show the ring before them all; How durst you thus betray us to Melarnus? What do you think to flame me? why ho! here's news. Well, rather then be troubled. With all my heart, I'm glad to see ye have learned more wit at last. Me? when there are no ropes to hang my self, No rocks to break my neck down; I abhor To live in a perpetual Belfary; I never could abide to have a Master, Much less a Mistress, and I will not marry, Because, I'll sing away the day, For it's but a folly to be melancholy, I'll be merry while I may. Of which thou hast enough. Only to ask one foolish question of thee: Ha'n't you a husband?