Narcissus, a Twelfe Night Merriment

by Unknown

The Songe.

Gentills all
Both great & small,
Sitt close in the hall
And make some roome, 20
For amongst you heere
At the end of your cheere
With our countrey beare
Wee ar bold to come.
Heers then a full carowse,
Let it goe about the house,
While wee doe carrye it thus
'Tis noe great labour.
Heave it vpp merilye, F. 81^r rev.
Let care & anger flye, 30
A pinne for povertye;
Drinke to your neighbour.

Those that are wise,
Doe knowe that with spice
God Bacchus his iuyce
Is wholsome & good.
It comforts age,
It refresheth the sage,
It rebateth rage,
And cheereth the bloud. 40
Heeres then a full, &c.

Take it with quicknes,
Tis phisicke for sicknes,
It driveth the thicknes
Of care from the harte;
The vaynes that are empty
It filleth with plenty,
Not one amongst twenty
But it easeth of smarte.
Heers then a full, &c. 50

Are you sadd,
For fortune badd,
And would bee gladd
As ever you were,
If that a quaffe
Doe not make you laffe,
Then with a staffe
Drive mee out of dore.
Heers then a full, &c.

To tell you his merritts, 60
Good thoughts it inherites,
It raiseth the spirritts
And quickens the witt;
It peoples the veyns,
It scoureth the reynes,
It purgeth the braines
And maks all things fitte.
Heers then a full, &c.

It makes a man bold,
It keepes out the cold; 70
Hee hath all things twice told
Vnto his comforte,
Hee stands in the middle,
The world, hey dery diddle,
Goes round without a fiddle
To make them sporte.
Heers then a full carowse, &c.

F. 80^v rev.Por. Why well said, my ladds of mettall, this is somwhat yett, 'tis trimlye done; but what sporte, what merriment, all dead, no vertue extant? 80

Pri[mus]. Pray, sir, gett our good Mistris to bestowe something on us, & wee ar gone.

Por. Talke of that tempore venturo; there's no goinge to any other houses now, your bowle is at the bottome, & that which is left is for mee.

Sec[undus]. Nay, good Master Porter.

Por. Come, come, daunce vs a morrice, or els goe sell fishe; I warrant youle make as good a night of it heere as if you had beene at all the houses in the towne.

Ter[tius]. Nay, pray letts goe, wee can doe nothinge. 90

Por. Noe! What was that I tooke you all a gabling tother day in mother Bunches backside by the well there, when Tom at Hobses ranne vnder the hovell with a kettle on's head?

Pri. Why, you would not have a play, would you?

Por. Oh, by all meanes, 'tis your onely fine course. About it, ladds, a the stampe, I warrante you a reward sufficient; I tell you, my little windsuckers, had not a certaine melancholye ingendred with a nippinge dolour overshadowed the sunne shine of my mirthe, I had beene100 I pre, sequor, one of your consorte. F. 80^r rev. wheres gooddy Hubbardes sonne—I saw him in his mothers holliday cloaths eennow?

Sec. Doe you heere, Master Porter, wee have pittifull nailes in our shooes; you were best lay something on the grounde, els wee shall make abhominable scarrs in the face on't.

Por. Rem tenes; well, weele thinke on't.

Ter. It is a most condolent tragedye wee shall move.

Por. Dictum puta; satis est quod suffocat. 110

Sec. In faith, I tickle them for a good voice.

Por. Sufficiente quantitate, a woord is enough to the wise.

Pri. You have noe butterd beare in the house, have yee?

Por. No, no, trudge, some of the guests are one the point to bee gone.

Sec. Have you ere a gentlewomans picture in the house, or noe?

Por. Why? 120

Sec. If you have, doe but hange it yonder, & twill make mee act in conye.

Por. Well then, away about your geere.

[Exeunt.

Enter Prologue.

Wee are noe vagabones, wee ar no arrant
Rogues that doe runne with plaies about the country.
Our play is good, & I dare farther warrantF. 79^v rev.
It will make you more sport then catt in plum tree.
Wee are no saucye common playenge skipiackes,
But towne borne lads, the kings owne lovely subiects.

This is the night, night latest of the twelve, 130
Now give vs leave for to bee blith & frolicke,
To morrow wee must fall to digg & delve;
Weele bee but short, long sittinge breeds the collicke.
Then wee beginne, & lett none hope to hisse vs,
The play wee play is Ovid's owne Narcissus.

Cephisus, Lyriope, Narcissus.

[Cep.] Open thine eares, my sonne, open I bidd
To heare the sound saw which the sage shall reed,
I meane the sage Tyresias, my ducke,
Which shall lay ope to thee thy lott, thy lucke.
Thy father I, Cephisus, that brave river 140
Who is all water, doe like water shiver.
As any man of iudgment may descrye
By face, hands washt, & bowle, thy father I.

Lyr. And I thy mother nimphe, as may bee seene
By coulours that I weare, blew, white, & greene;
For nimphes ar of the sea, & sea is right
Of colour truly greene & blew & white;
Would you knowe how, I pray? Billowes are blew,
Water is greene, & foome is white of hue.

Cep. Wee both bidd the, Narcisse, our dearest child, 150
With count'nance sober, modest lookes & milde,
To prophett's wisest woords with tention harken; F. 79^r rev. But Sunne is gonne & welkin gins to darken,
Vulcan the weary horses is a shooinge,
While Phebus with queene Thetis is a doinge:
Prophett comes not, letts goe both all & some,
Wee may goe home like fooles as wee did come.

Lyr. O stay deare husband, flowe not away bright water,
The prophett will come by sooner or later.

Cep. Why stand wee heere, as it were cappes a thrumming, 160
To look for prophett? Prophett is not comminge.

Nar. Sweete running river which Cephisus hight,
Whose water is so cleare, whose waves so bright,
Gold is thy sand and christall is thy current,
Thy brooke so cleare that no vile wind dare stirre in't;
Thou art my father, & thou, sweetest nimphe,
Thou art my mother, I thy sonne, thy shrimpe.
Agree you in one point, to goe or tarrye,
Narcissus must obey, aye, must hee, marye.

Cep. Gush, water, gush! runne, river, from thy channell! 170
Thou hast a sonne more lovinge then a spanniell;
With watry eyes I see how tis expedient
To have a sonne so wise & so obedient.
Most beauteous sonne, yet not indeede so beautifull
As thou art mannerly & dutifull!

Lyr. See, husband, see, O see where prophett blind
In twice good time is comming heere behind.

Cep. O heere hee is, and now that hee's come nye vs,
Lye close, good wife & sonne, least hee espye vs.

Enter Tyresias.

F. 78^v rev.All you that see mee heere in byshoppes rochett, 180
And I see not, your heads may runne on crotchett,
For ought I knowe, to knowe what manner wight
In this strange guise I am, or how I hight;
I am Tyresias, the not seeing prophett,
Blinde though I bee, I pray lett noe man scoffe it:
For blind I am, yea, blind as any beetle,
And cannot see a whitt, no, nere so little.
Heere ar no eyes, why, they ar in my minde,
Wherby I see the fortunes of mankind;
Who made mee blind? Jove? I may say to you noe; 190
But it was Joves wife & his sister Juno.
Juno & Jove fell out, both biggest gods,
And I was hee tooke vpp the merrye oddes.
You knowe it all, I am sure, 'tis somewhat common,
And how besides seven yeares I was a woman;
Which if you knowe you doe know all my state:
Come on, Ile fold the fortune of your fate.

Lyr. Tremblinge, Tyresias, I pray you cease to travell,
And rest a little on the groundy gravell.

Tyr. Who ist calls? Speake, for I cannot see. 200

Cep. Poore frends, sir, to the number of some three.

Tyr. What would you have?

Cep. Why, sir, this is the matter,
To bee plaine with you & not to flatter;
I am the stately river hight Cephise,
Smoother then glasse & softer farre then ice;F. 78^r rev.
This nimphe before you heere whom you doe see
Is my owne wife, yclipt Lyriope.
Though with the dawbe of prayse I am loath to lome her,
This Ile assure you, the blind poett Homer 210
Saw not the like amongst his nimphes and goddesses,
Nor in his Iliads, no, nor in his Odysses.
Thinke not, I pray, that wee are come for nought;
Our lovely infant have wee to you brought.
The purple hew of this our iolly striplynge
I would not have you thinke was gott with tiplinge;
Hee is our sonne Narcisse, no common varlett,
Nature in graine hath died his face in skarlett.
Speak then, I pray you, speake, for wee you portune
That you would tell our sunnfac't sonne his fortune. 220

Lyr. Doe not shrink backe, Narcissus, come & stand,
Hold vpp & lett the blind man see thy hand.

Tyr. Come, my young sonne, hold vp & catch audacitye;
I see thy hand with the eyes of my capacitye.
Though I speake riddles, thinke not I am typsye,
For what I speake I learnde it of a gipsye,
And though I speak hard woords of curromanstike,
Doe not, I pray, suppose that I am franticke.
The table of thy hand is somewhat ragged,
Thy mensall line is too direct and cragged, 230
Thy line of life, my sonne, is to, to breife,
And crosseth Venus girdle heere in cheife,
And heere (O dolefull signe) is overthwarte
In Venus mount a little pricke or warte. F. 77^v rev.
Besides heere, in the hillocke of great Jupiter,
Monnsieur la mors lyes lurking like a sheppbiter;
What can I make out of this hard construction
But dolefull dumpes, decay, death, & destruction?

Cep. O furious fates, O three thread-thrumming sisters,
O fickle fortune, thou, thou art the mistres 240
Of this mishapp; why am I longer liver?
Runne river, runne, & drowne thee in the river.

Tyr. Then sith to thee, my sonne, I doe pronounce ill,
It shall behove thee for to take good counsell,
And that eft soone; wisdoome they say is good,
Your parents ambo have done what they coode,
They can but bringe horse to the water brinke,
But horse may choose whether that horse will drinke.

Lyr. Oh say, thou holy preist of high Apollo,
What harme, what hurt, what chaunge, what chaunce, will followe, 250
That if wee can wee may provide a plaster
Of holsome hearbes to cure this dire disaster.

Tyr. If I should tell you, you amisse would iudge it;
I have one salve, one medecine, in my budgett,
And that is this, since you will have mee tell,
If hee himselfe doe never knowe; farewell.

[Exit Tyr.

Lyr. Mary come out, is his ould noddle dotinge?
Heere is an ould said saw well woorth the notinge;
F. 77^r rev.ll hee not know himselfe? Who shall hee then?
My boy shall knowe himselfe from other men, 260
I, & my boy shall live vntill hee dye,
In spight of prophett & in spight of pye.
It is an ould sawe: That it is too late
When steede is stolne to shutt the stable gate;
Therfore take heed; yet I bethinke at Delph,
One Phibbus walls is written: Knowe thyselfe.
Shall hee not know himselfe, and so bee laught on,
When as Apollo cries, gnotti seauton?

[Exeunt.

Dorastus. Clinias.

Come, prethy lett vs goe: come, Clinias, come,
And girt thy baskett dagger to thy bumme; 270
Lett vs, I say, bee packinge, and goe meete
The poore blind prophett stalking in the streete:
Lett us be iogginge quickly.

Cli. Peace, you asse,
I smell the footinge of Tyresias.

Enter Tyresias.

Dor. O thou which hast thy staffe to bee thy tutor,
Whose head doth shine with bright hairs white as pewter,
Like silver moone, when as shee kist her minion
In Late-mouse mont, the swaine yclipt Endimion,
Who, beeing cald Endimion the drowsye, 280
F. 76^v rev.Slept fifty yeers, & for want of shift was lowsye;
O thou whose breast, I, even this little cantle,
Is counsells capcase, prudences portmantle,
O thou that pickest wisdome out of guttes
As easy as men doe kernells out of nuttes,
Looke in our midriffs, & I pray you tell vs
Whether wee two shall live & dye good fellowes.

Tyr. How doe you both?

Dor. Well, I thanke you.

Tyr. Are you not sicklye? 290

Cli. Noe, I thanke God.

Tyr. Yet you shall both dye quicklye.
Goe, thou hast done, Tyresias; bidd adiew;

[Exit.

Dor. Shall wee dye quickly, both? I pray what coulour?
Ile bee a diar, thou shalt be a fuller;
Weele cozin the prophett, I my life will pawne yee,
Thou shalt dye whyte, & Ile dye oreng tawnye.

Enter Narcissus walkinge.

Cli. O eyes, what see you? Eyes, bee ever bloud shedd
That turne your Master thus into a codshead. 300
O eyes, noe eyes, O instruments, O engines,
That were ordain'd to worke your Master's vengeance!
His huge orentall beawty melts my eyeballs
Into rayne dropps, even as sunne doth snowballes.

F. 76^r rev. Dor. Cracke eye strings, cracke,
Runne eyes, runne backe,
My lovely brace of beagles;
Looke no more on
Yon shininge sunne,
For your eyes are not eagles. 310
Leave off the chace
My pretty brace,
And hide you in your kennell,
And hunt no more,
Your sight is sore;
Oh that I had some fennell!

Nar. Leave off to bragg, thou boy of Venus bredd,
I am as faire as thou, for white & redd;
If then twixt mee & thee theres no more oddes,
Why I on earth & thou amongst the goddes? 320

Cli. Thy voice, Narcisse, so softly & so loude,
Makes in mine eares more musicke then a crowde
Of most melodious minstrells, & thy tonge
Is edged with silver, & with iewells strunge;
Thy throate, which speaketh ever & anan,
Is farre more shriller then the pipe of Pan,
Thy weasand pipe is clearer then an organ,
Thy face more faire then was the head of Gorgon,
Thy haire, which bout thy necke so faire dishevells,
Excells the haire of the faire queene of devills, 330
And thy perfumed breath farr better savours
Then does the sweat hot breath of blowing Mavors;
Thy azur'd veynes blewer then Saturne shine,
F. 75^v rev.And what are Cupids eyes to those of thine?
Thy currall cheeks hath a farre better lustre
Then Ceres when the sunne in harvest bust her;
Silenus for streight backe, & I can tell yee,
You putt downe Bacchus for a slender bellye.
To passe from braunch to barke, from rine to roote,
Venus her husband hath not such a foote. 340

Dor. O thou whose cheeks are like the skye so blewe,
Whose nose is rubye, of the sunnlike hue,
Whose forhead is most plaine without all rinkle,
Whose eyes like starrs in frosty night doe twinkle,
Most hollowe are thy eyelidds, & thy ball
Whiter then ivory, brighter yea withall,
Whose ledge of teeth is farre more bright then jett is,
Whose lipps are too, too good for any lettice,
O doe thou condiscend vnto my boone,
Graunt mee thy love, graunt it, O silver spoone, 350
Silver moone, silver moone.

Cli. Graunt mee thy love, to speake I first begunne,
Graunt mee thy love, graunt it, O golden sunne.

Nar. Nor sunne, nor moone, nor twinkling starre in skye,
Nor god, nor goddesse, nor yet nimphe am I,
And though my sweete face bee sett out with rubye,
You misse your marke, I am a man as you bee.

Dor. A man, Narcisse, thou hast a manlike figure;
F. 75^r rev.Then bee not like vnto the savage tiger,
So cruell as the huge camelion, 360
Nor yet so changing as small elephant.
A man, Narcisse, then bee not thou a wolfe,
To devoure my hart in thy mawes griping gulfe,
Bee none of these, & lett not nature vaunt her
That shee hath made a man like to a panther;
A man thou art, Narcisse, & soe are wee,
Then love thou vs againe as wee love thee.

Nar. A man I am, & sweare by gods above
I cannot yett find in my heart to love.

Dor. Cannott find love in hart! O search more narrowe, 370
Thou well shalt knowe him by his ivory arrowe;
That arrowe, when in breast, my bloud was tunninge,
Broacht my harts barrell, sett it all a runninge,
Which with loves liquor vnles thou doe staunch,
All my lifes liquor will runne out my paunche.

Nar. Why would you have mee love? You talke most oddlye,
Love is a naughty thinge & an ungodlye.

Cli. Is love ungodlye? Love is still a god.

Nar. But in his nonage allwaies vnder rodde.

Amb. O love, Narcissus, wee beseech thee, O love. 380

Nar. Noe love, good gentiles, Ile assure you, noe love.

[Exeunt Dorastus et Clinias, ambulat Narcissus.

Enter Florida, Clois.

F. 74^v rev.Clois, what ist I wis that I doe see,
What forme doth charme this storme within my breast,
What face, what grace, what race may that same bee,
So faire, so rare, debonaire, breeds this vnrest?
How white, how bright, how light, like starre of Venus
His beames & gleames so streames so faire between vs!

Clo. 'Tis Venus sure, why doe wee stand and palter?
Lett vs goe shake our thighes vpon the altar.

Flo. Most brightest Hasparus, for thou seemst to mee soe, 390
I, and in very deed thou well maist bee soe,
For as bigg as a man is every plannett,
Although it seemes a farre that wee may spanne it,
Shine thou on mee, sweet plannet, bee soe good
As with thy fiery beames to warme my bloud;
Ile beare thee light, and thinke light of the burthen,
And say, light plannett neare was heavy lurden.

Nar. To speake the truth, faire maid, if you will have vs,
O Œdipus I am not, I am Davus.

Clo. Good Master Davis, bee not so discourteous 400
As not to heare a maidens plaint for vertuous.

Nar. Speake on a Gods name, so love bee not the theame.

Flo. O, whiter then a dish of clowted creame,
Speake not of love? How can I overskippe
To speake of love to such a cherrye lippe?

Nar. It would beseeme a maidens slender vastitye
Never to speake of any thinge but chastitye.

Flo. As true as Helen was to Menela
F. 74^r rev.So true to thee will bee thy Florida.

Clo. As was to trusty Pyramus truest Thisbee 410
So true to you will ever thy sweete Clois bee.

Flo. O doe not stay a moment nor a minute,
Loves is a puddle, I am ore shooes in it.

Clo. Doe not delay vs halfe a minutes mountenance
That ar in love, in love with thy sweet countenance.

Nar. Then take my dole although I deale my alms ill,
Narcissus cannot love with any damzell;
Although, for most part, men to love encline all,
I will not, I, this is your answere finall.
And so farwell; march on doggs, love's a griper, 420
If I love any, 'tis Tickler & Piper.
Ah, the poore rascall, never ioyd it since
His fellow iugler first was iugled hence,
Iugler the hope; but now to hunte abraode,
Where, if I meete loves little minitive god,
Ile pay his breech vntill I make his bumme ake,
For why, the talke of him hath turnd my stomacke.

[Exit.

Flo. And is hee gone? Letts goe & dye, sweet Cloris,
For poets of our loves shall write the stories.

Enter Clinias, Dorastus, meeting them.

Cli. Well mett, faire Florida sweete, which way goe you? 430

F. 73^v rev. Flo. In faith, sweete Clinias, I cannot knowe you.

Dor. Noe, knowe, but did you see the white Narcisse?

Clo. The whitest man alive a huntinge is;
Hee that doth looke farre whiter then the vilett,
Or moone at midday, or els skye at twilight.

Cli. That is the same, even that is that Narcissus,
Hee that hath love despis'd, & scorned vs.

Flo. Not you alone hee scornes, but vs also;
O doe not greive when maids part stakes in woe.
O, that same youthe's the scummer of all skorne, 440
Of surquedry the very shooing horne,
Piller of pride, casting topp of contempt,
Stopple of statelines for takinge vente.
Many youthes, many maids sought him to gaine,
Noe youthes, noe maids could ever him obtaine:
Then thus I pray, & hands to heaven vpp leave,
So may hee love & neare his love atcheive.
Looke you for maids no more, our parte is done,
Wee come but to bee scornd, & so are gone.

[Exeunt.

Dor. But wee have more to doe, that have wee perdie, 450
Wee must a fish & hunt the hare so hardye,
For even as after hare runnes swiftest beagle,
So doth Narcissus our poore harts corneagle.

[Exeunt.

Enter Eccho.

F. 73^r rev.Who, why, wherfore, from whence or what I am,
Knowe, if you aske, that Eccho is my name,
That cannott speake a woord, nor halfe a sillable,
Vnles you speake before so intelligible.
But ho, the hobby horse, youle think 't absurde
That I should of my selfe once speake a woord.
'Tis true; but lett your wisdomes tell me than 460
How'de you know Eccho from another man?
I was a well toung'd nimphe, but what of that?
My mother Juno still to hold in chatte,
With tales of tubbes, from thence I ever strove,
Whiles nimphes abroad lay allwaies vnder Jove.
But oh, when drift was spied, my angry grammer
Made ever since my tottering tongue to stammer;
And now, in wild woods, & in moist mountaines,
In high, tall valleys, & in steepye plaines,
Eccho I live, Eccho, surnam'd the dolefull, 470
That, in remembrance, now could weepe a bowlfull;
Or rather, if you will, Eccho the sorrowfull,
That, in remembrance, now could weepe a barrowfull.

(Within. Yolp! yolpe!)

[Exit clamans Yolpe!

Enter Dorastus, Narcissus, Clinias.