ERGASTUS

HOw is it Melibaeus that we find Our Country, fair, Arcadia, so much changed From what it was, that was thou knowest of late, The gentle region of plain honesty, The modest seat, of undisguised truth, Inhabited with simple innocence: And now, I know not how, as if it were, Unhallowed, and divested of that grace, Hath put off that fair nature which it had, And grows Like uder countries, or more bade. And me thinks too, our very air is changed, Our wholesome climate grown more maladiue, The fogs, and the Syrene offends us more (Or we made think so) then they did before, The winds of Autumn, now are said to bring More noysomnesse, then those do of the Spring: And all of us feel new in mities, New Fevers, new Catarres, oppress our powers, The milk wherewith we cured all maladies, Hath either lost the nature, or we ours. And me thinks too, the beauty of our Nymph's Is not the same, as it was wont to be. That Rosy hew, the glory of the Cheek, Is either stolen, or else they have forgotten, To blush with shame, or to be pale with fear: Or else their shame does make them always blush For always does their beauty's bear one hew, And either Nature's false, or that untrue. Indeed unto our grief we may perceive, The whole complexion of Arcadia changed, Yet cannot find occasion of this change: But let us with more wary eye observe Whence the contagion of these customs rise, That have infected thus our honest plains, With cunning discord, idle vanity, Deceitful wrong, and causeless infamy. That by the assistance of our graver Swains, We now at first, may labour to prevent The further course of mischiefs, and restore Our late clean woods, to what they were before. A man the fitter made for Courts abroad, Where I would God he had remained still, With those loose-living wanton Sybarites, Where luxury, hath made her outmost proof. From whence Pheare he comes, and hither brings Their shames, to brand us with the Like reproach. And for this other viper, which you saw, I do remember how she came of late For succour to these parts, and sought to teach Our younger maids to dress, and try out Flax, And use the Distaff, and to make a hem, And such Like skill, being skill enough for them, But since I see she hath presumed to deal In points of other science, different far From that plain Art of honest housewifry, And as it seems hath often made repair Unto the neighbour Cities round about, From whom she hath these strange disguises go T'abuse our Nymph's, and as it seems desires, To suit their minds, as light as their attires, But we shall soon prevent this growing plague, Of pride, and folly, now that she descry The true symptoma of this malady, And by this overture thus made, we trust We shortly shall discover all the rest. Now Melibaeus; who would have supposed, That had not seen these impious passage , That ever monstrous wretch could have exposed, Two honest hearts to these extremities, Attain his wicked ends? by having wrought First in, unto their easy confidence Away, by and opinion to be thought, Honest, discreet, of great experience. Whereby we see open-fac to villainy Without a mask, no mischief could have done, It was the coverture of honesty, That laid the snare, whereby they were undone. And that's the engine that confounds us all, That makes the breach whereby the world is saclet, And made a prey to cunning, when we fallen Into the hands of wise dishonesty: When as our weak credulity is racked By that opinion of sufficiency, To all the inconveniences that guile, And impious craft can practice to beguile. And note but how these cankers always seize The choicest fruits with their infections, How they are still ordained to disease, The nature's of the best complexions. And this occasion will be very fit Now to be took, for one day lost may loose More by example, then we shall reget In thousands, for when men shall once disclose The way of ill that lay unknown before, Scarce all our pains will ever stop it more. Man is a creature of a wilful head, And hardly'is driven, but easily is led. Indeed these odious wretches which you see, Are they who have brought in upon our rest, These new and unknown mischiefs of debate, Of wanton pride, of scandalous reports, Of vile deluding chaste and honest loves, Of undeserved suspicious desperate griefs, And all the sadness we have seen of late. And first this man, this Lincus here you see, Montanus you, and you Acrysius know, With what deceit, and with what cunning art, He entertained your strifes, abused you both, By first persuading you that you had right In your demands, and then the right was yours, And would have made as many rights, as men Had m nes, or power, or will to purchase them; Could he have once attained to his desires. And now this other strange impostor here, This Alcon, who Like Lincus hath put on, The habit too of empty gravity, To catch opinion, and conceit withal, Comes here to set us all at variance too, With nature, as this other with our selves, And would confound her, working with his art, And labours how to make our minds first sick, Before our bodies, and persuade our health It is not well, that he may have thereby Both it and sickness ever under cure. And foreign drugs brings to distemper's here And make us Like the wanton world abroad. But Techne who is that stands their by you, What is your company increased of late? He cannot then but be and honest man, If he be one of your acquaintance sure. H'is Like to be of their associates then. A very holy man? what is his name? What is he masked, or is that face his own? Techne we cannot credit thy report. Let one try whither it be so or not, Oh see a most deformed ugly face, Wherewith if openly he should appear, He would deter all men from coming never. And therefore hath that cunning wretch put on This pleasing visor of apparency, T'intice and to delude the world withal; So that you see with what strange inginiers, The project of our ruin is forecast. How they implanted have their battery here, Against all the main pillars of our state, Our Rites; our Customs, Nature, Honesty. T'mbroyle, and to confound us utterly, Reckoning us barbarous, but if thus their skill Does civilize let us be barbarous still. Come good Palaemon, and good Silvia come, You have endured too much, and too too long. Alas we know well where the wrong does lie. Well then to make our joyful festivals The more complete, Dorinda, we entreat You also to accept Mirtillus love, Who we are sure hath well deserved yours. And Daphne, too me thinks your heavy looks Show how that something is amiss with you. That must advise you Daphne from henceforth To look more war lie unto your feet, Which if you do, no doubt but all will be well, And see what other new appearing spirits Would raise the tempests of disturbances, Upon our rest, and labour to bring in All the whole Ocean of unquietness, To overwhelm the poor peace we live in? How one would feign instruct, and teach us how To cut our throats with form, and to contend With artificial knowledge, to undo Each other, and to brabble without end. As if that nature had not took more care For us, then we for our own selves can take, And makes us better laws then those we make. And as if all that science ought could give Unto our bliss, but only shows us how The better to contend, but not to live. And evermore we see, how vice does grow With knowledge, and brings forth a more increase, When skilful men begin, how good men ease. And therefore how much better do we live, With quiet ignorance then we should do With turbulent and ever-working skill, Which makes us not to live but labour still. Techne, what is this secret friend of yours?