Anth. And what says our best Mistris?
Desire. She danc'd me out this answer presently:
Revels and Masques had drawn her drie alreadie.
I met old Time too, mowing mankind down,
Who says you are too hot, and he must purge ye.
Anth. A cold quietus. Miserable creatures,
Born to support and beautifie your master,
The godlike man, set here to do me service,
The children of my will; why, or how dare ye,
Created to my use alone, disgrace me?
Beasts have more court[e]sie; they live about me,
Offering their warm wooll to the shearers hand,
To clothe me with their bodies to my labours;
Nay, even their lives they daily sacrifice,
And proudly press with garlands to the altars,
To fill the gods oblations. Birds bow to me,
Striking their downie sails to do me service,
Their sweet airs ever ecchoing to mine honor,
And to my rest their plumie softs they send me.
Fishes, and plants, and all where life inhabits,
But mine own cursed kind, obey their ruler;
Mine have forgot me, miserable mine,
Into whose stonie hearts, neglect of dutie,
Squint-ey'd deceit, and self-love, are crept closely:
None feel my wants, not one mend with me.
Desire. None, Sir?
Ant. Thou hast forgot (Desire) thy best friend, Flatterie;
He cannot fail me.
Delight. Fail? he will sell himself,
And all within his power, close to his skin first.
Desire. I thought so too, and made him my first venture
But found him in a young Lords ear so busie,
So like a smiling showr pouring his soul
In at his portals, his face in a thousand figures
Catching the vain mind of the men: I pull'd him,
But still he hung like birdlime; spoke unto him,
His answer still was, By the Lord, sweet Lord,
And By my soul, thou master-piece of honor;
Nothing could stave him off: he has heard your flood's gone;
And on decaying things he seldom smiles, Sir.
Anth. Then here I break up state, and free my followers,
Putting my fortune now to Time, and Justice:
Go seek new masters now; for Anthropos
Neglected by his friends, must seek new fortunes.
Desire, to Avarice I here commend thee,
Where thou may'st live at full bent of thy wishes:
And Vain Delight, thou feeder of my follies
With light fantastickness, be thou in favour.
To leave thee, Bountie, my most worthie servant,
Troubles me more then m[ine] own misery;
But we must part: go plant thy self, my best friend,
In honorable hearts that truely know thee,
And there live ever like thy self, a virtue:
But leave this place, and seek the Countrey,
For Law, and lust, like fire lick all up here.
Now none but Poverty must follow me,
Despis'd patch'd Poverty; and we two married,
Will seek Simplicity, Content and Peace out.
Enter Poverty.
And live with them in exile. How uncall'd on
My true friend comes!