(SCENE 3.)
Enter Clarence, Momford.
Mom. How now, my friend? does not the knowing beames,
That through thy common sence glaunce through thy eyes,
To read that letter, through thine eyes retire
And warme thy heart with a triumphant fire?
Cla. My Lord, I feele a treble happines
Mix in one soule, which proves how eminent
Things endlesse are above things temporall,
That are in bodies needefully confin'de:
I cannot suffer their dimensions pierst,
Where my immortall part admits expansure,
Even to the comprehension of two more
Commixt substantially with her meere selfe.
Mom. As how my strange, and riddle-speaking friend?
Cla. As thus, my Lord; I feele my owne minds joy,
As it is separate from all other powers,
And then the mixture of an other soule
Ioyn'de in direction to one end, like it;
And thirdly the contentment I enjoy,
As we are joynd, that I shall worke that good
In such a noble spirit as your Neece,
Which in my selfe I feele for absolute;
Each good minde dowbles his owne free content,
When in an others use they give it vent.
Mom. Said like my friend, and that I may not wrong
Thy full perfections with an emptier grace,
Then that which show presents to thy conceits,
In working thee a wife worse then she seemes;
Ile tell thee plaine a secret which I know.
My Neece doth use to paint herselfe with white,
Whose cheekes are naturally mixt with redd,
Either because she thinks pale-lookes moves most:
Or of an answereable nice affect
To other of her modest qualities;
Because she wood not with the outward blaze
Of tempting beauty tangle wanton eies;
And so be troubled with their tromperies:
Which construe as thou wilt, I make it knowne,
That thy free comment may examine it,
As willinger to tell truth of my Neece,
Then in the least degree to wrong my friend.
Cla. A jealous part of friendship you unfold;
For was it ever seene that any Dame
Wood change of choice a well mixt white and red
For bloodles palenes, if she striv'd to move?
Her painting then is to shun motion,
But if she mended some defects with it,
Breedes it more hate then other ornaments;
(Which to suplie bare nature) Ladies weare?
What an absurd thing is it to suppose;
(If nature made us either lame or sick,)
We wood not seeke for sound limmes, or for health
By Art the Rector of confused Nature?
So in a face, if Nature be made lame,
Then Art can make it, is it more offence
To helpe her want there then in other limmes?
Who can give instance where Dames faces lost
The priviledge their other parts may boast.
Mom. But our most Court received Poets saies, That painting is pure chastities abator.
Cla. That was to make up a poore rime to Nature.
And farre from any judgment it confered
For lightnes comes from harts, and not from lookes,
And if inchastity possesse the hart;
Not painting doth not race it, nor being cleare
Doth painting spot it:
Omne bonum naturaliter pulchrum.
For outward fairenes beares the divine forme,
And moves beholders to the Act of love;
And that which moves to love is to be wisht,
And each thing simply to be wisht is good.
So I conclude mere painting of the face
A lawful and a commendable grace.
Mom. What paradox dost thou defend in this?
And yet through thy cleare arguments I see
Thy speach is farre exempt from flatterie;
And how illiterate custome groslie erres
Almost in all traditions she preferres.
Since then the doubt I put thee of my Neece,
Checks not thy doubtlesse love, forth my deare friend,
And to add[43] force to those impressions,
That now have caru'd her phantasie with love,
I have invited her to supper heere.
And told her thou art most extreamly sick,
Which thou shalt counterfeit with all thy skill.
Cla. Which is exceeding smale to conterfeit.
Mom. Practise a little, love will teach it thee;
And then shall Doctor Versey the physitian,
Come to thee while her selfe is in my house,
Whith whom as thou confer'st of thy disease,
He bring my Neece with all the Lords, and Ladies
Within your hearing, under fain'd pretext
To shew the Pictures that hang neere thy Chamber;
Where when thou hearst my voyce, know she is there,
And therefore speake that which may stir her thoughts,
And make her flie into thy opened armes.
Ladies, whom true worth cannot move to ruth,
Trew lovers must deceive to shew their truth.
[Exeunt.
Finis Actus Quarti.
Actvs Qvinti.
SCENA PRIMA.
Enter Momford, Furnifall, Tales, Kingcob, Rudesbie, Goosecap, Foulweather, Eugenia, Hippolyta, Penelope, Winnifred.
Mom. Where is sir Gyles Goose-cappe here?
Goos. Here my Lord.
Mom. Come forward, Knight; t'is you that the Ladies admire at working, a mine honour.
Goos. A little at once my Lorde for idlenes sake.
Fur. Sir Cut, I say, to her Captaine.
Penel. Come good servant let's see what you worke.
Goos. Why looke you, Mistris, I am makeing a fine dry sea, full of fish, playing in the bottome, and here ile let in the water so lively, that you shall heare it rore.
Eug. Not heare it, sir Gyles?
Goos. Yes in sooth, Madam, with your eyes.
Tal. I, Lady; for when a thing is done so exceedingly to the life, as my Knightly cosen does it, the eye oftentimes takes so strong a heede of it, that it cannot containe it alone, and therefore the eare seemes to take part with it.
Hip. That's a verie good reason, my Lord.
Mom. What a jest it is, to heare how seriouslie he strives to make his foolish kinsmans answeres wise ones?
Pene. What shall this be, servant?
Goos. This shall be a great Whale, Mistris, at all his bignesse spouting huge Hils of salt-water afore him, like a little water squirt, but you shall not neede to feare him Mistris, for he shal be silke, and gould, he shall doe you noe harme, and he be nere so lively.
Pene. Thanke you, good servant.
Tal. Doe not thinke, Lady, but he had neede tell you this a forehand: for, a mine honour, he wrought me the monster Caucasus so lively, that at the first sight I started at it.
Mom. The monster Caucasus? my Lord, Caucasus is a Mountaine; Cacus you meane.
Tal. Cacus indeede, my Lord, crie you mercie.
Goos. Heere ile take out your eye, and you wil Mistris.
Pene. No by my faith, Servant, t'is better in.
Goos. Why, Ladie, Ile but take it out in jest, in earnest.
Pene. No, something else there, good servant.
Goos. Why then here shall be a Camell, and he shall have hornes, and he shall looke for all the World like a maide without a husband.
Hip. O bitter sir Giles.
Ta. Nay he has a drie wit, Ladie, I can tell ye.
Pene. He bobd me there indeed, my Lord.
Fur. Marry him, sweet Lady, to answere his bitter bob.
King. So she maie answere him with hornes indeed.
Eug. See what a pretty worke he weares in his boote-hose.
Hip. Did you worke them your selfe, sir Gyles, or buy them?
Goos. I bought am for nothing, Madam, in th'exchange.
Eug. Bought am for nothing?
Tal. Indeed, Madam, in th'exchange they so honour him for his worke, that they will take nothing for any thing he buies on am; but wheres the rich night-cap you wroght, cosen? if it had not bin too little for you, it was the best peece of worke, that ever I sawe.
Goos. Why, my Lord, t'was bigge enough; when I wrought it, for I wore pantables then you knowe.
Tal. Indeed the warmer a man keepes his feete the lesse he needs weare uppon his head.
Eug. You speake for your kinsman the best that ever I heard, my Lord.
Goos. But I beleeve, Madam, my Lord my cosen has not told you all my good parts.
Ta. I told him so I warrant you, cosen.
Hip. What doe you thinke hee left out sir Gyles?
Goos. Marry, Madam, I can take Tobacco now, and I have bought glow-wormes to kindle it withall, better then all the burning glasses ith World.
Eug. Glowe-wormes, sir Giles? will they make it burne?
Goos. O good Madam, I feed am with nothing but fire, a purpose, Ile besworne they eat me five Faggots a-weeke in Charcoale.
Tal. Nay he has the strangest devices, Ladies, that ever you heard, I warrent ye.
Fur. That's a strange device indeed, my Lord.
Hip. But your sowing, sir Gyles, is a most gentlewoman-like quality, I assure you.
Pene. O farr away, for now, servant, you neede never marry, you are both husband, and wife your selfe.
Goos. Nay indeed, mistris, I wood faine marry for all that, and ile tell you my reason, if you will.
Pene. Let's here it good servant.
Goos. Why, Madam, we have a great match at football towards, married men against batchellers, and the married men be all my friends, so I wood faine marry to take the married mens parts in truth.
Hip. The best reason for marriage that ever I heard sir Gyles.
Goos. I pray will you keepe my worke a little, Mistris; I must needes straine a little courtesie in truth. [Exit Sir Gyles.
Hip. Gods my life, I thought he was a little to blame.
Rud. Come, come, you he[a]re not me, dame.
Pur. Well said, sir Cut: to her now; we shall heare fresh courting.
Hip. Alas, sir Cut, you are not worth the hearing, every body saies you cannot love, howsoever you talke on't.
Rud. Not love, dame? slidd what argument woodst have of my love, tro? lett me looke as redde as Scarlet a fore I see thee, and when thou comst in sight if the sunne of thy beauty, doe not white me like a shippards holland, I am a Iewe to my Creator.
Hip. O excellent!
Rud. Let me burst like a Tode, if a frowne of thy browe has not turned the very heart in my bellie and made mee readie to be hangd by the heeles for a fortnight to bring it to the right againe.
Hip. You shood have hangd longer sir Cut: tis not right yet.
Rud. Zonnes, bid me cut off the best lymme of my body for thy love, and ile lai't in thy hand to prove it. Doost thinke I am no Christian, have I not a soule to save?
Hip. Yes tis to save yet I warrant it, and wilbe while tis a soule if you use this.
Fur. Excellent Courtship of all hands, only my Captaines Courtship, is not heard yet. Good Madam give him favour to court you with his voyce.
Eug. What shood he Court me withall else, my Lord?
Mom. Why, I hope Madam there be other things to Court Ladies withall besides voyces.
Fur. I meane with an audible sweete song Madam.
Eug. With all my heart my Lord, if I shall bee so much indebted to him.
Foul. Nay I will be indebted to your eares Ladie for hearing me sound musicke.
Fur. Well done Captaine, prove as it wil now.
Enter Messenger.
Me. My Lord, Doctor Versey the Physitian is come to see master Clarence.
Mom. Light, and attend him to him presently.
Fur. To Master Clarence? what is your friend sicke?
Mom. Exceeding sicke.
Tal. I am exceeding sorrie.
King. Never was sorrow worthier bestowed Then for the ill state of so good a man.
Pene. Alas poore Gentleman; good my Lord lets see him.
Mom. Thankes gentle Ladie, but my friend is loth To trouble Ladies since he cannot quitt them. With anything he hath that they respect.
Hip. Respect, my Lord! I wood hold such a man
In more respect then any Emperour:
For he cood make me Empresse of my selfe
And in mine owne rule comprehend the World.
Mom. How now young Dame? what sodainly inspird?
This speech hath silver haires, and reverence askes,
And sooner shall have duty done of me,
Then any pompe in temperall Emperie.
Hip. Good Madam get my Lord to let us greet him.
Eug. Alas we shall but wrong and trouble him. His Contemplations greet him with most welcome.
Fur. I never knew a man of so sweet a temper, So soft and humble, of so high a Spirit.
Mom. Alas, my noble Lord, he is not rich,
Nor titles hath, nor in his tender cheekes
The standing lake of Impudence corrupts;
Hath nought in all the World, nor nought wood have,
To grace him in the prostituted light.
But if a man wood consort with a soule
Where all mans Sea of gall and bitternes
Is quite evaporate with her holy flames,
And in whose powers a Dove-like innocence
Fosters her own deserts, and life and death
Runnes hand in hand before them, all the Skies
Cleere, and transparent to her piercing eyes,
Then wood my friend be something, but till then
A Cipher, nothing, or the worst of men.
Foul. Sweet Lord, lets goe visit him.
Enter Goose-cappe.
Goos. Pray, good my Lord, what's that you talke on?
Mom. Are you come from your necessarie busines, Sir Gyles? we talke of the visiting of my sicke friend Clarence.
Goos. O good my Lord lets visite him, cause I knowe his brother.
Hip. Know his brother, nay then Count doe not denie him.
Goos. Pray my Lord whether was eldest, he or his elder brother?
Mom. O! the younger brother eldest while you live, sir Gyles.
Goos. I say so still my Lord, but I am so borne downe with truth, as never any Knight ith world was I thinke.
Ta. A man wood thinke he speakes simply now; but indeed it is in the will of the parents, to make which child they will youngest, or eldest: For often we see the youngest inherite, wherein he is eldest.
Eug. Your logicall wit my Lord is able to make any thing good.
Mom. Well come sweet Lords, and Ladies, let us spend
The time till supper-time with some such sights,
As my poore house is furnished withall,
Pictures, and jewels; of which implements,
It may be I have some will please you much.
Goos, Sweet Lord, lets see them.
[Exeunt.