ACTUS QUINTUS.
Enter Hog in his chamber, with Rebecca laying down his bed, and, seeming to put the keys under his bolster, conveyeth them into her pocket.
Hog. So, have you laid the keys of the outward doors
Under my bolster?
Reb. Yes, forsooth.
Hog. Go your way to bed then.
[Exit Rebecca.
I wonder who did at the first invent
These beds, the breeders of disease and sloth:
He was no soldier, sure, nor no scholar,
And yet he might be very well a courtier;
For no good husband would have been so idle,
No usurer neither: yet here the bed affords
[Discovers his gold.
Store of sweet golden slumbers unto him.
Here sleeps command in war; Cæsar by this
Obtain'd his triumphs; this will fight man's cause,
When fathers, brethren, and the near'st of friends
Leave to assist him; all content to this
Is merely vain; the lovers, whose affections
Do sympathise together in full pleasure,
Debarr'd of this, their summer sudden ends;
And care, the winter to their former joys,
Breathes such a cold blast on their turtles' bills:
Having not this, to shroud them[394] forth his storms,
They straight are forc'd to make a separation,
And so live under those that rule o'er this.
The gallant, whose illustrious outside draws
The eyes of wantons to behold with wonder
His rare-shap'd parts, for so he thinks they be,
Deck'd in the robes of glistering gallantry;
Having not this attendant on his person,
Walks with a cloudy brow, and seems to all
A great contemner of society;
Not for the hate he bears to company,
But for the want of this ability.
O silver! thou that art the basest captive
Kept in this prison, how many pale offenders
For thee have suffer'd ruin? But, O my gold!
Thy sight's more pleasing than the seemly locks
Of yellow-hair'd Apollo; and thy touch
More smooth and dainty than the down-soft white
Of lady's tempting breast: thy bright aspect
Dims the great'st lustre of heaven's waggoner.
But why go I about to extol thy worth,
Knowing that poets cannot compass it?
But now give place, my gold; for here's a power
Of greater glory and supremacy
Obscures thy being; here sits enthronis'd
The sparkling diamond, whose bright reflection
Casts such a splendour on these other gems,
'Mongst which he so majestical appears,
As if—— Now my good angels guard me!
[A flash of fire, and Lightfoot ascends like a spirit.
Light. Melior vigilantia somno.
Stand not amaz'd, good man, for what appears
Shall add to thy content; be void of fears:
I am the shadow of rich kingly Crœsus,
Sent by his greatness from the lower world
To make thee mighty, and to sway on earth
By thy abundant store, as he himself doth
In Elysium; how he reigneth there,
His shadow will unfold; give thou then ear.
In under-air, where fair Elysium stands,
Beyond the river styled Acheron,
He hath a castle built of adamant;
Not fram'd by vain enchantment, but there fix'd
By the all-burning hands of warlike spirits:
Whose windows are compos'd of purest crystal,
And deck'd within with oriental pearls:
There the great spirit of Crœsus' royal self
Keeps his abode in joyous happiness.
He is not tortur'd there, as poets feign,
With molten gold and sulphury flames of fire,
Or any such molesting perturbation;
But there reputed as a demigod,
Feasting with Pluto and his Proserpine,
Night after night with all delicious cates,
With greater glory than seven kingdoms' states.
Now farther know the cause of my appearance—
The kingly Crœsus having by fame's trump
Heard that thy lov'd desires stand affected
To the obtaining of abundant wealth,
Sends me, his shade, thus much to signify,
That if thou wilt become famous on earth,
He'll give to thee even more than infinite;
And after death with him thou shalt partake
The rare delights beyond the Stygian lake.
Hog. Great Crœsus' shadow may dispose of me
To what he pleaseth.
Light. So speaks obediency.
For which I'll raise thy lowly thoughts as high,
As Crœsus's were in his mortality.
Stand then undaunted, whilst I raise those spirits,
By whose laborious task and industry
Thy treasure shall abound and multiply.
Ascend, Ascarion, thou that art
A powerful spirit, and dost convert
Silver to gold; I say, ascend
And on me, Crœsus' shade, attend,
To work the pleasure of his will.
The Player appears.
Player. What, would then Crœsus list to fill
Some mortal's coffers up with gold,
Changing the silver it doth hold?
By that pure metal, if't be so,
By the infernal gates I swear,
Where Rhadamanth doth domineer;
By Crœsus' name and by his castle,
Where winter nights he keepeth wassail;[395]
By Demogorgon and the fates,
And by all these low-country states;
That after knowledge of thy mind,
Ascarion, like the swift-pac'd wind,
Will fly to finish thy command.
Light. Take, then, this silver out of hand,
And bear it to the river Tagus,
Beyond th' abode of Archi-Magus;
Whose golden sands upon it cast,
Transform it into gold at last:
Which being effected straight return,
And sudden, too, or I will spurn
This trunk of thine into the pit,
Where all the hellish furies sit,
Scratching their eyes out. Quick, begone!
Player. Swifter in course than doth the sun.
[Exit Player.
Light. How far'st thou, mortal? be not terrifi'd
At these infernal motions; know that shortly
Great Crœsus' ghost shall, in the love he bears thee,
Give thee sufficient power by thy own worth
To raise such spirits.
Hog. Crœsus is much too liberal in his favour
To one so far desertless as poor Hog.
Light. Poor Hog! O, speak not that word poor again,
Lest the whole apple-tree of Crœsus' bounty,
Crack'd into shivers, overthrow thy fortunes!
For he abhors the name of poverty,
And will grow sick to hear it spoke by those
Whom he intends to raise. But see, the twilight,
Posting before the chariot of the sun,
Brings word of his approach:
We must be sudden, and with speed raise up
The spirit Bazan, that can straight transform
Gold into pearl; be still and circumspect.
Bazan, ascend up from the treasure
Of Pluto, where thou dost[396] at pleasure
Metamorphose all his gold
Into pearl, which 'bove a thousand-fold
Exceeds the value: quickly rise
To Crœsus' shade, who hath a prize
To be performed by thy strength.
[Bazan or] Haddit ascends.
Had. I am no fencer, yet at length
From Pluto's presence and the hall,
Where Proserpine keeps festival,
I'm hither come; and now I see,
To what intent I'm rais'd by thee;
It is to make that mortal rich,
That at his fame men's ears may itch,
When they do hear but of his store.
He hath one daughter and no more,
Which all the lower powers decree,
She to one Wealthy wedded be;
By which conjunction there shall spring
Young heirs to Hog, whereon to fling
His mass of treasure when he dies;
Thus Bazan truly prophesies.
But come, my task! I long to rear
His fame above the hemisphere.
Light. Take then the gold which here doth lie,
And quick return it by and by
All in choice pearl. Whither to go,
I need not tell you, for you know.
Had. Indeed I do, and Hog shall find it so.
[Exit Haddit.
Light. Now, mortal, there is nothing doth remain
'Twixt thee and thine abundance, only this:
Turn thy eyes eastward, for from thence appears
Ascarion with thy gold, which having brought
And at thy foot surrender'd, make obeisance;
Then turn about, and fix thy tapers westward,
From whence great Bazan brings thy orient pearl;
Who'll lay it at thy feet much like the former.
Hog. Then I must make to him obeisance thus?
Light. Why, so; in meantime, Crœsus' shade will rest
Upon thy bed: but above all, take heed
You suffer not your eyes to stray aside
From the direct point I have set thee at:
For though the spirit do delay the time,
And not return your treasure speedily——
Hog. Let the loss light on me, if I neglect
Or overslip what Crœsus' shade commands.[397]
Light. [Aside.] So, now practise standing, though it be nothing agreeable to your Hog's age. Let me see, among these writings is my nephew Haddit's mortgage; but in taking that it may breed suspect on us; wherefore this box of jewels will stand far better, and let that alone. It is now break of day, and near by this the marriage is confirmed betwixt my cousin and great Crœsus's friend's daughter here, whom I will now leave to his most weighty cogitations.
So, gentle sir, adieu; time not permits
To hear those passions and those frantic fits
You're subject to, when you shall find how true
Great Crœsus' shade hath made an ass of you.
[Exit.
Hog. Let me now ruminate to myself why Crœsus should be so great a favourer to me. And yet to what end should I desire to know? I think it is sufficient it is so. And I would he had been so sooner, for he and his spirits would have saved me much labour in the purchasing of wealth; but then indeed it would have been the confusion of two or three scriveners which, by my means, have been properly raised. But now imagine this only a trick, whereby I may be gulled! But how can that be? Are not my doors locked? Have I not seen with my own eyes the ascending of the spirits? Have I not heard with my own ears the invocation wherewith they were raised? Could any but spirits appear through so firm a floor as this is? 'Tis impossible. But hark! I hear the spirit Ascarion coming with my gold. O bountiful Crœsus! I'll build a temple to thy mightiness!
Enter Young Lord Wealthy and Peter Servitude.
Y. Lord W. O Peter, how long have we slept upon the hogshead?
P. Ser. I think a dozen hours, my lord, and 'tis nothing. I'll undertake to sleep sixteen, upon the receipt of two cups of muskadine.[398]
Y. Lord W. I marvel what's become of Haddit and Lightfoot!
P. Ser. Hang 'em, flinchers; they slunk away as soon as they had drank as much as they were able to carry, which no generous spirit would ha' done, indeed.
Y. Lord W. Yet I believe Haddit had his part, for, to my thinking, the cellar went round with him when he left us. But are we come to a bed yet? I must needs sleep.
P. Ser. Come softly by any means, for we are now upon the threshold of my master's chamber, through which I'll bring you to Mistress Rebecca's lodging. Give me your hand, and come very nicely.
[Peter falls into the hole.
Y. Lord W. Where art, Peter?
P. Ser. O, O!
Y. Lord W. Where's this noise, Peter? canst tell?
Hog. I hear the voice of my adopted son-in-law.
Y. Lord W. Why, Peter, wilt not answer me?
P. Ser. O, my Lord above, stand still; I'm fallen down at least thirty fathom deep. If you stand not still till I recover, and have lighted a candle, you're but a dead man.
Hog. I am robb'd, I am undone, I am deluded! Who's in my chamber?
Y. Lord W. 'Tis I, the lord your son, that shall be; upon my honour, I came not to rob you.
Hog. I shall run mad! I shall run mad!
Y. Lord W. Why, then, 'tis my fortune to be terrified with madmen.
Enter Peter Servitude, with a candle.
P. Ser. Where are you, my lord?
Hog. Here, my lady. Where are you, rogue, when thieves break into my house?
P. Ser. Breaking my neck in your service—a plague on't!
Y. Lord W. But are you robbed, indeed, father Hog? Of how much, I pray?
Hog. Of all, of all! See here, they have left me nothing but two or three rolls of parchment; here they came up like spirits, and took my silver, gold, and jewels. Where's my daughter?
P. Ser. She's not in the house, sir. The street-doors are wide open.
Y. Lord W. Nay, 'tis no matter where she is now. She'll scarce be worth a thousand pound, and that's but a tailor's prize.[399]
Hog. Then you'll not have her, sir?
Y. Lord W. No, as I hope to live in peace.
Hog. Why, be't so, be't so; confusion cannot come in a fitter time on all of us. O bountiful Crœsus! how fine thy shadow hath devoured my substance!
P. Ser. Good my lord, promise him to marry his daughter, or he will be mad presently, though you never intend to have her.
Y. Lord W. Well, father Hog, though you are undone, your daughter shall not be, so long as a lord can stand her in any stead. Come, you shall with me to my lord and father, whose warrants we will have for the apprehending of all suspicious livers; and, though the labour be infinite, you must consider your loss is so.
Hog. Come, I'll do anything to gain my gold.
P. Ser. Till which be had, my fare will be but cold.
[Exeunt.
Enter Haddit, Rebecca, Lightfoot, and Priest.
Had. Now, Master Parson, we will no further trouble you; and, for the tying of our true love-knot, here's a small amends.
Priest. 'Tis more than due, sir; yet I'll take it all.
Should kindness be despis'd, goodwill would fall
Unto a lower ebb, should we detest
The grateful giver's gift, verissimo est.
Had. It's true, indeed; good morrow, honest parson.
Priest. Yet, if you please, sir John will back surrender
The overplus of what you now did tender.
Had. O, by no means; I prythee, friend, good morrow.
Light. Why. if you please, sir John, to me restore
The overplus: I'll give it to the poor.
Priest. O, pardon, sir, for, by your worship's leave,
We ought to give from whence we do receive.
Had. Why, then, to me, sir John.
Priest. To all a kind good-morrow.
[Exit Priest.
Had. A most fine vicar; there was no other means to be rid of him. But why are you so sad, Rebecca?
Reb. To think in what estate my father is,
When he beholds that he is merely gull'd.
Had. Nay, be not grieved for that which should rather give you cause of content; for 'twill be a means to make him abandon his avarice, and save a soul almost incurable. But now to our own affairs: this marriage of ours must not yet be known, lest it breed suspicion. We will bring you, Rebecca, unto Atlas's house, whilst we two go unto the old Lord Wealthy's, having some acquaintance with his son-in-law Carracus, who I understand is there; where no question but we shall find your father proclaiming his loss: thither you shall come somewhat after us, as it were to seek him; where I doubt not but so to order the matter, that I will receive you as my wife from his own hands.
Reb. May it so happy prove!
Light. Amen, say I; for, should our last trick be known, great Crœsus's shade would have a conjured time on't.
Had. 'Tis true, his castle of adamant would scarce hold him; but come, this will be good cause for laughter hereafter.
Then we'll relate how this great bird was pull'd
Of his rich feathers, and most finely gull'd.
[Exeunt.
Enter Old Lord Wealthy, with Carracus, Maria, and Albert.
O. Lord W. More welcome, Carracus, than friendly truce
To a besieged city all distress'd:
How early this glad morning are you come
To make me happy? for pardon of your offence
I've given a blessing, which may heaven confirm
In treble manner on your virtuous lives!
Car. And may our lives and duty daily strive
To be found worthy of that loving favour,
Which from your reverend age we now receive
Without desert or merit!
Enter Young Lord Wealthy, Hog, and Peter.
Y. Lord W. Room for a desirer of justice! what, my sister
Maria! who thought to have met you here.
Maria. You may see, brother, unlooked-for guests prove often troublesome.
Y. Lord W. Well, but is your husband there any quieter than he was?
Car. Sir, I must desire you to forget all injuries, if, in not being myself, I offered you any.
Alb. I'll see that peace concluded.
Y. Lord W. Which I agree to;
For patience is a virtue, father Hog.
O. Lord W. Was it you, son, that cried so loud for justice?
Y. Lord W. Yes, marry was it, and this the party to whom it appertains.
Hog. O, my most honoured lord, I am undone, robbed, this black night, of all the wealth and treasure which these many years I have hourly laboured for.
O. Lord W. And who are those have done this outrage to you?
Hog. O, knew I that, I then, my lord, were happy.
O. Lord W. Come you for justice then, not knowing 'gainst whom the course of justice should extend itself? Nor yet suspect you none?
Hog. None but the devil.
Y. Lord W. I thought he was a cheater, e'er since I heard two or three Templars[400] swear at dice, the last Christmas, that the devil had got all.
Enter Haddit and Lightfoot.
Had. My kind acquaintance, joy to thy good success.
Car. Noble and freeborn Haddit, welcome.
Light. Master Hog, good day.
Hog. [Good day], for I have had a bad night on't.
Light. Sickness is incident to age: what, be the writings ready to be sealed we entreated last day?
Hog. Yes, I think they are; would the scrivener were paid for making them.
Light. He shall be so, though I do't myself. Is the money put up, as I appointed?
Hog. Yes, 'tis put up: confusion seize the receivers!
Light. Heaven bless us all! what mean you, sir?
Hog. O sir, I was robb'd this night of all I had;
My daughter too is lost, and I undone.
Light. Marry, God forbid! after what manner, I pray?
Hog. O, to recount, sir, will breed more ruth
Than did the tale of that high Trojan duke[401]
To the sad-fated Carthaginian queen.
Had. What exclamation's that?
Light. What you will grieve at, coz;
Your worshipful friend, Master Hog, is robb'd.
Had. Robb'd! by whom, or how?
Light. O, there's the grief: he knows not whom to suspect.
Had. The fear of hell o'ertake them, whosoe'er they be. But where's your daughter? I hope she is safe.
Enter Rebecca.
Hog. Thank heaven, I see she's now so. Where hast thou been, my girl?
Reb. Alas! sir, carried by amazement I know not where; pursued by the robbers, forced to fly amazed, affrighted, through the city streets, to seek redress; but that lay fast asleep in all men's houses, nor would lend an ear to the distressed.
Had. O heavy accident! but see, you grieve too much,
Being your daughter's found, for th' other loss,
Since 'tis the will of heaven to give and take,
Value it as nothing: you have yet sufficient
To live in bless'd content, had you no more
But my small mortgage for your daughter here,
Whom I have ever lov'd in dear'st affection.
If so you please so much to favour me,
I will accept her, spite of poverty,
And make her jointure of some store of land,
Which, by the loss of a good aged friend,
Late fell to me: what, is't a match or no?
Hog. It is.
Had. Then I'll have witness on't: my lord and gentlemen,
Please you draw near to be here witnesses
To a wish'd contract 'twixt this maid and I.
Omnes. We are all willing.
Hog. Then, in the presence of you all, I give my daughter freely to this gentleman as wife; and to show how much I stand affected to him, for dowry with her, I do back restore his mortgaged lands; and, for their loves, I vow ever hereafter to detest, renounce, loathe, and abhor all slavish avarice,
Which doth ascend from hell, sent by the devil,
To be 'mongst men the actor of all evil.
Omnes. A bless'd conversion.
O. Lord W. A good far unexpected. And now, gentlemen,
I do invite you all to feast with me
This happy day, that we may all together
Applaud his good success: and let this day be spent
In sports and shows, with gladsome merriment.
Come, bless'd converted man,[402] we'll lead the way,
As unto heaven I hope we shall.
Hog. Heaven grant we may!
Car. Come, my Maria and repentant friend,
We three have tasted worst of misery,
Which now adds joy to our felicity.
Had. We three are happy we have gain'd much wealth,
And though we have done it by a trick of stealth,
Yet all, I trust, are pleased, and will our ills acquit,
Since it hath sav'd a soul was hell's by right.
Y. Lord W. To follow after, then, our lot doth fall;
Now rhyme it, Peter.
P. Ser. A good night to all.
[Exeunt omnes.
[EPILOGUE]
Now expectation hath, at full receiv'd,
What we late promised; if in aught we've pleas'd,
'Tis all we sought t'accomplish; and much more
Than our weak merit dares to attribute
Unto itself, till you vouchsafe to deign,
In your kind censure, so to gratify
Our trivial labours.——
If it hath pleased the judicial ear,
We have our author's wish; and, void of fear,
Dare ignorant men to show their worst of hate,
It not detracts, but adds unto that state
Where desert flourisheth.
We'll rest applauded in their derogation,
Though with a hiss they crown that confirmation.
For this our author saith, if't prove distasteful,
He only grieves you spent two hours so wasteful;
But if it like,[403] and you affect his pen,
You may command it, when you please, again.
[THE HEIR.]
EDITION.
The Heire. A Comedie. As it was acted by the Company of the Revels. 1620. Written by T. M. London, Printed by Augustine Mathewes, for Thomas Iones, and are to be sold at his shop in S. Dunstans Church-yard in Fleetstreet. 1633. 4o.[404]
[INTRODUCTION TO THE FORMER EDITION.]
Thomas May was the son of Sir Thomas May, of Mayfield, in the county of Sussex, Knight, a gentleman of an ancient and honourable family.[405] He was born in the year 1595, and received his early education in the neighbourhood of his birthplace; thence he was removed to Sidney-Sussex College in Cambridge, and took the degree of B.A. in 1612. On the 6th of August 1615, he was admitted into the society of Gray's-Inn, and soon after became celebrated for his poetical performances.
Lord Clarendon,[406] with whom he was intimately acquainted, says "that his father spent the fortune which he was born to, so that he had only an annuity left him not proportionable to a liberal education; yet, since his fortune could not raise his mind, he brought his mind down to his fortune by a great modesty and humility in his nature, which was not affected, but very well became an imperfection in his speech, which was a great mortification to him, and kept him from entering upon any discourse but in the company of his very friends. His parts of nature and art were very good, as appears by his translation of Lucan (none of the easiest work of that kind), and more by his Supplement to Lucan which, being entirely his own, for the learning, the wit and the language, may be well looked upon as one of the best epic poems in the English language. He writ some other commendable pieces of the reign of some of our kings. He was cherished by many persons of honour, and very acceptable in all places; yet (to show that pride and envy have their influences upon the narrowest minds, and which have the greatest semblance of humility) though he had received much countenance, and a very considerable donative from the king, upon his majesty's refusing to give him a small pension,[407] which he had designed and promised to another very ingenious person, whose qualities he thought inferior to his own, he fell from his duty and all his former friends, and prostituted himself to the vile office[408] of celebrating the infamous acts of those who were in rebellion against the king; which he did so meanly, that he seemed to all men to have lost his wits when he left his honesty, and shortly after died miserable and neglected, and deserves to be forgotten."
He died suddenly on the night of the 13th of November 1650, after having drank his cheerful bottle as usual. The cause of his death is said to have arisen from the tying of his nightcap too close under his chin, which occasioned a suffocation when he turned himself about.
He was buried, by appointment of the Parliament, in a splendid manner, in the south aisle of Westminster Abbey, where a monument to his memory was erected, with a Latin inscription thereon, composed by Marchemont Needham, which remained there until the Restoration, when it was destroyed, and his body dug up, and buried in a large pit belonging to St Margaret's Church, with many others who had been interred in the abbey during the Interregnum.
He was the author of the following dramatic pieces—
1. "The Tragedy of Antigone the Theban princesse." 8o. 1631.
2. "The Heire: a Comedy: acted by the Company of the Revels, 1620." 4o. 1633.
3. "The Tragedy of Julia Agrippina, Empress of Rome." 12o. 1639. 12o. 1654.
4. "The Tragedy of Cleopatra, Queen of Ægypt." 12o. 1639. 12o. 1654.
5. "The Old Couple: a Comedy." 4o. 1658.
He also wrote "The reign of king Henry the Second," and "The victorious reign of Edward the Third,"[409] both in English verse; and translated, besides Lucan, the "Georgics" of Virgil, the "Epigrams" of Martial, the "Icon Animorum" by Barclay, and the verses in the "Argenis" of the same author. He likewise was the author of "The History of the Parliament of England, which began November 3, 1640, with a short and necessary view of some precedent years." Folio. 1647.[410]
The following inscription[411] was made upon him by one of the Cavalier party, which he had abused—
Adsta, Viator, et Poetam legas
Lucani interpretem,
Quem ita feliciter Anglicanum fecerat,
Ut Mayus simul et Lucanus videretur,
Et sane credas Metempsuchosin:
Nam uterque ingratus Principis sui Proditor;
Hic Neronis Tyranni, ille Caroli Regum optimi,
At fata planè diversa;
Lucanum enim ante obitum pœnitentem legis,
Mayus vero repentina morte occubuit,
Ne forsan pœniteret.
Parliamentia Rebellis tam pertinax adstipulator,
Ut Musarum, quas olim religiose coluerat,
Sacrilegus Hostis evaserit:
Attamen fingendi artem non penitus amisit,
Nam gesta eorum scripsit et typis mandavit
In prosâ mendax Poeta.
Inter tot Heroas Poetarum, Nobiliumque,
Quod tam indigni sepeliantur Cineres,
Videntur fiere Marmora.
Nec tamen mirere cum hic Rebelles posuisse,
Qui tot sacras Ædes, et Dei delubra,
Equis fecere Stabula.
[A MS. note in one of the former editions says: "This comedy is full of most palpable imitations of Shakespeare and others, but it is very pleasingly, and even elegantly, written in many parts.">[