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!