Dar. Holla, holla in his ear. Sam. The witch, sure, thrust her fingers there Epi. Cramp him, or wring the fool by th' nose; Dar. Or clap some burning flax to his toes. Sam. What music 's best to wake him? Epi. Bow-wow, let bandogs shake him! Dar. Let adders hiss in 's ear; Sam. Else earwigs wriggle there. Epi. No, let him batten; when his tongue Once goes, a cat is not worse strung. All three. 145 150 But if he ope nor mouth nor eyes, [155 Top. Sleep is a binding of the senses, love a loosing. Epi. Aside.] Let us hear him awhile. Top. There appeared in my sleep a goodly [160 owl, who, sitting upon my shoulder, cried "Twit, twit"; and before mine eyes presented herself the express image of Dipsas. I marvelled what the owl said, till at the last I perceived "Twit, twit," "To it, to it," only [165 by contraction admonished by this vision to make account of my sweet Venus. Sam. Sir Tophas, you have overslept yourself. Top. No, youth, I have but slept over [170 my love. Dar. Love? Why, it is impossible that into so noble and unconquered a courage love should creep, having first a head as hard to pierce as steel, then to pass to a heart [175 arm'd with a shirt of mail. Epi. Ay, but my master yawning one day in the sun, Love crept into his mouth before he could close it, and there kept such a tumbling in his body that he was glad to untruss 2 [180 the points of his heart and entertain Love as a stranger. Top. If there remain any pity in you, plead for me to Dipsas. Dar. Plead! Nay, we will press her to it. [185 [Aside to SAMIAS.] Let us go with him to Dipsas, and there shall we have good sport. - But, Sir Tophas, when shall we go? For I find my tongue voluble, and my heart venturous, and all myself like myself. 190 Sam. [Aside to DARES.] Come, Dares, let us not lose him until we find our masters, for as long as he liveth, we shall lack neither mirth [Enter] EUMENIDES and GERON. Eum. Father, your sad music being tuned on the same key that my hard fortune is, hath so melted my mind that I wish to hang at your mouth's end till my life end. Ger. These tunes, gentleman, have I been [5 accustomed with these fifty winters, having no other house to shroud myself but the broad heavens; and so familiar with me hath use made misery that I esteem sorrow my chiefest I Grow fat. 3 So Baker. Old edd. Travice. To untie the laces. Terence, Andria, I. i. 144. A desert place, with a fountain. solace, and welcomest is that guest to me [10 that can rehearse the saddest tale or the bloodiest tragedy. Eum. A strange humour. Might I inquire the cause? Ger. You must pardon me if I deny to tell [15 it, for knowing that the revealing of griefs is, as it were, a renewing of sorrow, I have vowed therefore to conceal them, that I might not only feel the depth of everlasting discontentment, but despair of remedy. But whence are you? [20 What fortune hath thrust you to this distress? Eum. I am going to Thessaly, to seek remedy. for Endymion, my dearest friend, who hath been cast into a dead sleep almost these twenty, years, waxing old and ready for the grave, [25 being almost but newly come forth of the cradle. Ger. You need not for recure travel far, for whoso can clearly see the bottom of this fountain shall have remedy for anything. Eum. That methinketh is impossible. Why, [30 what virtue can there be in water? Ger. Yes, whosoever can shed the tears of a faithful lover shall obtain anything he would. Read these words engraven about the brim. Eum. Have you known this by experience, [35 or is it placed here of purpose to delude men? Ger. I only would have experience of it, and then should there be an end of my misery; and then would I tell the strangest discourse that ever yet was heard. Eum. Ah, Eumenides! 40 Ger. What lack you, gentleman; are you not well? Eum. Yes, father, but a qualm that often cometh over my heart doth now take hold of [45 me. But did never any lovers come hither? Ger. Lusters, but not lovers; for often have I seen them weep, but never could I hear they saw the bottom. Eum. Came there women also? Eum. What did they see? 50 Ger. They all wept, that the fountain overflowed with tears, but so thick became the water with their tears that I could scarce [55 discern the brim, much less behold the bottom. Eum. Be faithful lovers so scant? Ger. It seemeth so, for yet heard I never of any. Eum. Ah, Eumenides, how art thou per- [60 plexed! Call to mind the beauty of thy sweet mistress and the depth of thy never-dying affections. How oft hast thou honoured her, not only without spot, but suspicion of falsehood! And how hardly hath she rewarded thee without [65 cause or colour of despite. How secret hast thou been these seven years, that hast not, nor once darest not to name her, for discontenting her. How faithful, that hast offered to die for her, to please her! Unhappy Eumenides! [70 Ger. Why, gentleman, did you once love? Eum. Once? Ay, father, and ever shall. Ger. Was she unkind and you faithful? Eum. She of all women the most froward, and I of all creatures the most fond. Ger. You doted then, not loved, for affection is grounded on virtue, and virtue is never peevish; or on beauty, and beauty loveth to be praised. Eum. Ay, but if all virtuous ladies should [s0 yield to all that be loving, or all amiable gentlewomen entertain all that be amorous, their virtues would be accounted vices, and their beauties deformities; for that love can be but between two, and that not proceeding of him [85 that is most faithful but most fortunate. Ger. I would you were so faithful that your tears might make you fortunate. Eum. Yea, father, if that my tears clear not this fountain, then may you swear it is but a [90 mere mockery. water. Ger. So saith every one yet that wept. Eum. Ah, I faint, I die! Ah, sweet Semele, let me alone, and dissolve, by weeping, into [He gazes into the fountain.] [s Ger. This affection seemeth strange: if he see nothing, without doubt this dissembling passeth, for nothing shall draw me from the belief. Eum. Father, I plainly see the bottom, [100 and there in white marble engraven these words: Ask one for all, and but one thing at all. Ger. O fortunate Eumenides, (for so have I heard thee call thyself,) let me see. I cannot discern any such thing. I think thou dreamest. [105 Eum. Ah, father, thou art not a faithful lover, and therefore canst not behold it. Ger. Then ask, that I may be satisfied by the event, and thyself blessed. Eum. Ásk? So I will. And what shall I [110 do but ask, and whom should I ask but Semele, the possessing of whose person is a pleasure that cannot come within the compass of comparison; whose golden locks seem most curious when they seem most careless; whose sweet looks [115 seem most alluring when they are most chaste; and whose words the more virtuous they are, the more amorous they be accounted? I pray thee, Fortune, when I shall first meet with fair Semele, dash my delight with some light dis- [120 grace, lest embracing sweetness beyond measure, I take a surfeit without recure. Let her practise her accustomed coyness that I may diet myself upon my desires; otherwise the fulness of my joys will diminish the sweetness, and [125 I shall perish by them before I possess them. Why do I trifle the time in words? The least minute being spent in the getting of Semele is more worth than the whole world; therefore let me ask. What now, Eumenides! Whither [180 art thou drawn? Hast thou forgotten both friendship and duty, care of Endymion, and the commandment of Cynthia? Shall he die in a leaden sleep because thou sleepest in a golden dream? Ay, let him sleep ever, so I slumber [135 but one minute with Semele. Love knoweth neither friendship nor kindred. Shall I not hazard the loss of a friend for the obtaining of her for whom I would often lose myself? Fond Eumenides, shall the enticing beauty of a [140 most disdainful lady be of more force than the 1 Foolish. rare fidelity of a tried friend? The love of men to women is a thing common and of course; the friendship of man to man infinite and immortal. Tush! Semele doth possess my love. Ay, 145 but Endymion hath deserved it. I will help Endymion. I found Endymion unspotted in his truth. Ay, but I shall find Semele constant in her love. will have Semele. What shall I do? Father, thy gray hairs are embassadors of [150 experience. Which shall I ask? Ger. Eumenides, release Endymion, for all things, friendship excepted, are subject to fortune: love is but an eye-worm, which only tickleth the head with hopes and wishes; [155 friendship the image of eternity, in which there is nothing movable, nothing mischievous. As much difference as there is between beauty and virtue, bodies and shadows, colours and life, so great odds is there between love and friend- (160 ship. Love is a chameleon, which draweth nothing into the mouth but air, and nourisheth nothing in the body but lungs. Believe me, Eumenides, desire dies in the same moment that beauty [165 sickens, and beauty fadeth in the same instant that it flourisheth. When adversities flow, then love ebbs; but friendship standeth stiffly in storms. Time draweth wrinkles in a fair face, but addeth fresh colours to a fast friend, [170 which neither heat, nor cold, nor misery, nor place, nor destiny, can alter or diminish. O friendship, of all things the most rare, and therefore most rare because most excellent, whose comforts in misery is always sweet, [175 and whose counsels in prosperity are ever fortunate! Vain love, that, only coming near to friendship in name, would seem to be the same or better in nature! Eum. Father, I allow your reasons, and [180 will therefore conquer mine own. Virtue shall subdue affections, wisdom lust, friendship beauty. Mistresses are in every place, and as common as hares on Athos, bees in Hybla, fowls in the air; but friends to be found (185 are like the phoenix in Arabia, but one; or the philadelphi in Arays, never above two. I will have Endymion. Sacred fountain, in whose bowels are hidden divine secrets, I have increased your waters with the tears of un- [190 spotted thoughts, and therefore let me receive the reward you promise. Endymion, the truest friend to me, and faithfulest lover to Cynthia, is in such a dead sleep that nothing can wake or move him. Ger. Dost thou see anything? [195 Eum. I see in the same pillar these words: When she whose figure of all is the perfectest, and never to be measured; always one, yet never the same; still inconstant, yet never wavering; [200 shall come and kiss Endymion in his sleep, he shall then rise, else never. This is strange. Ger. What see you else? Eum. There cometh over mine eyes either a dark mist, or upon the fountain a deep [205 thickness, for I can perceive nothing. But how am I deluded, or what difficult, nay impossible, thing is this? Eum. Yes. 220 Ger. Is she not always Cynthia, yet seldom in the same bigness; always wavering in her waxing or waning, that our bodies might the better be governed, our seasons the dailier give their increase; yet never to be removed from her [225 course, as long as the heavens continue theirs? Eum. Yes. Ger. Then who can it be but Cynthia, whose virtues being all divine must needs bring things to pass that be miraculous? Go, humble thy- [230 self to Cynthia; tell her the success, of which myself shall be a witness. And this assure thyself, that she that sent to find means for his safety will now work her cunning. Eum. How fortunate am I, if Cynthia be [235. she that may do it! Ger. How fond1 art thou, if thou do not believe it! Eum. I will hasten thither that I may entreat on my knees for succour, and embrace in [240 mine arms my friend. Ger. I will go with thee, for unto Cynthia must I discover all my sorrows, who also must work in me a contentment. 245 Eum. May I now know the cause? Ger. That shall be as we walk, and I doubt not but the strangeness of my tale will take away the tediousness of our journey. Eum. Let us go. Ger. I follow. ACT IV SCENE I.2 [Enter] TELLUS. Exeunt. [250 Tellus. I marvel Corsites giveth me so much liberty, all the world knowing his charge to be so high and his nature to be most strange, who hath so ill entreated ladies of great honour that he hath not suffered them to look out [s of windows, much less to walk abroad. It may be he is in love with me, for (Endymion, hardhearted Endymion, excepted) what is he that is not enamour'd of my beauty? But what respectest thou the love of all the world? En- [10 dymion hates thee. Alas, poor Endymion, my malice hath exceeded my love, and thy faith to Cynthia quenched my affections. Quenched, Tellus? Nay, kindled them afresh; insomuch that I find scorching flames for dead embers, [15 and cruel encounters of war in my thoughts instead of sweet parleys. Ah, that I might once again see Endymion! Accursed girl, what hope hast thou to see Endymion, on whose head already are grown gray hairs, and whose life [20 must yield to nature, before Cynthia end her displeasure. Wicked Dipsas, and most devilish Tellus, the one for cunning too exquisite, the other for hate too intolerable! Thou wast commanded to weave the stories and poetries [25 wherein were showed both examples and punishments of tattling tongues, and thou hast only embroidered the sweet face of Endymion, devices of love, melancholy imaginations, and what not, out of thy work, that thou shouldst [30 study to pick out of thy mind. But here cometh Corsites. I must seem yielding and stout; full of mildness, yet tempered with a majesty; for if I be too flexible, I shall give him more hope than I mean; if too froward, enjoy less liberty [35 than I would. Love him I cannot, and therefore will practise that which is most contrary 3 to our sex, to dissemble. Enter CORSITES. Cor. Fair Tellus, I perceive you rise with the lark, and to yourself sing with the nightin- 40 gale. Tellus. My lord, I have no playfellow but fancy; being barred of all company, I must question with myself, and make my thoughts my friends. Cor. I would you would account my thoughts also your friends, for they be such as are only busied in wondering at your beauty and wisdom; and some such as have esteemed your fortune too hard; and divers of that kind [50 that offer to set you free, if you will set them free. Tellus. There are no colours so contrary as white and black, nor elements so disagreeing as fire and water, nor anything so opposite as [55 men's thoughts and their words. Cor. He that gave Cassandra the gift of prophesying, with the curse that, spake she never so true, she should never be believed, hath I think poisoned the fortune of men, [60 that uttering the extremities of their inward passions are always suspected of outward perjuries. Tellus. Well, Corsites, I will flatter myself and believe you. What would you do to en- [65 joy my love? Cor. Set all the ladies of the castle free, and make you the pleasure of my life: more I cannot do, less I will not. Tellus. These be great words, and fit your [70 calling; for captains must promise things impossible. But will you do one thing for all? Cor. Anything, sweet Tellus, that am ready for all. Tellus. You know that on the lunary bank [75 sleepeth Endymion. Cor. I know it. Tellus. If you will remove him from that place by force, and convey him into some obscure cave by policy, I give you here the [ 3 Bond emends to customary. faith of an unspotted virgin that you only shall possess me as a lover, and in spite of malice have me for a wife. Cor. Remove him, Tellus! Yes, Tellus, he shall be removed, and that so soon as1 thou [85 shalt as much commend my diligence as my force. I go. Tellus. Stay, will yourself attempt it? Cor. Ay, Tellus; as I would have none partaker of my sweet love, so shall none be [90 partners of my labors. But I pray thee go at your best leisure, for Cynthia beginneth to rise, and if she discover our love, we both perish, for nothing pleaseth her but the fairness of virginity. All things must be not only without [95 lust but without suspicion of lightness. Tellus. I will depart, and go you to Endymion. Cor. I fly, Tellus, being of all men the most fortunate. Exit. [100 Tellus. Simple Corsites, I have set thee about a task, being but a man, that the gods themselves cannot perform, for little dost thou know how heavy his head lies, how hard his fortune; but such shifts must women have to deceive [105 men, and under colour of things easy, entreat that which is impossible; otherwise we should be cumb'red with importunities, oaths, sighs, letters, and all implements of love, which to one resolved to the contrary are most loath- [110 some. I will in, and laugh with the other ladies at Corsites' sweating. SCENE II.2 [Enter] SAMIAS and DARES. Exit. Sam. Canst thou remember any one of his poems ? Epi. Ay, this is one : The beggar, Love, that knows not where to lodge, [30 I wak'd, and so my fancies began to fodge.1 Epi. Why, the other was short. The first [35 is called from the thumb to the little finger; the second from the little finger to the elbow; and some he hath made to reach to the crown of his head, and down again to the sole of his foot. It is set to the tune of the black [40 Saunce; ratio est, because Dipsas is a black saint. Dar. Very wisely. But pray thee, Epi, how art thou complete; and being from thy master, what occupation wilt thou take? 45 Epi. Know, my hearts, I am an absolute Microcosmus, a petty world of myself: my library is my head, for I have no other books but my brains; my wardrobe on my back, for I have no more apparel than is on my body; [60 my armory at my fingers' ends, for I use no other artillery than my nails; my treasure in my purse. Sic omnia mea mecum porto." Dar. Good! Dar. Too bad! Epi. Why, is it not said, "It is good walking when one hath his horse in his hand"? [es Sam. Worse and worse! But how wilt thou live? Epi. By angling. Oh, 't is a stately occupatior to stand four hours in a cold morning, and to have his nose bitten with frost before his [70 bait be mumbled with a fish. Dar. A rare attempt! But wilt thou never travel? Epi. Yes, in a western barge, when with a good wind and lusty pugs,10 one may go ten [75 miles in two days. Sam. Thou art excellent at thy choice. But what pastime wilt thou use? None? Epi. Yes, the quickest of all. Sam. What, dice? 80 Epi. No, when I am in haste, one-and-twenty games at chess, to pass a few minutes. Dar. A life for a little lord, and full of quickness. 3 Irritable humour, 9 Lucan, vii. 819. 10 Fellows. Epi. Tush, let me alone! But I must [85 needs see if I can find where Endymion lieth, and then go to a certain fountain hard by, where they say faithful lovers shall have all things they will ask. If I can find out any of these, Ego et magister meus erimus in tuto, I [90 and my master shall be friends. He is resolved to weep some three or four pailfuls to avoid the rheum of love that wambleth in his stomach. Enter [Master Constable and Two] Watch [men]. 2 Watch. No, we are commanded in Cynthia's name, that no man shall see him. Sam. No man! Why, we are but boys. 1 Watch. Mass, neighbours, he says true, for if I swear I will never drink my liquor by [110 the quart, and yet call for two pints, I think with a safe conscience I may carouse both. Dar. Pithily, and to the purpose. 2 Watch. Tush, tush, neighbours, take me with you.2 Sam. [Aside.] This will grow hot. 115 2 Watch. If I say to my wife, " Wife, I will have no raisins in my pudding," she puts in currants; small raisins are raisins, and boys [120 are men: even as my wife should have put no raisins in my pudding, so shall there no boys see Endymion. Dar. Learnedly. Epi. Let Master Constable speak; I think [125 he is the wisest among you. Master Constable. You know, neighbours, 't is an old said saw, "Children and fools speak Mast. Const. Then, say I, neighbours, that [135 children must not see Endymion, because children and fools speak true. Epi. O wicked application! 1 Watch. Nay, he says true, and therefore [140 till Cynthia have been here, he shall not be uncovered. Therefore, away! Dar. [Aside to Sam. and Epi.] A watch, quoth you! A man may watch seven years for a wise word, and yet go without it. Their wits [145 are all as rusty as their bills. But come on, Let me understand 1 Rumbles. THE SECOND SONG.3 Watch. Stand! Who goes there? We charge you appear 'Fore our constable here, In the name of the Man in the Moon. Why you stagger so late, This the Constable. Pages. A patch. 4 The Watch; Const. Knock 'em down unless they all stand : If any run away, "T is the old watchman's play, To reach him a bill of his hand. Pages. O gentlemen, hold, Your gowns freeze with cold, And your rotten teeth dance in your head; Const. Come, my brown bills, we'll roar, 5 Omnes. And i' th' morning steal all to bed. SCENE III.6 150 x55 160 165 170 Exeunt. CORSITES solus. [ENDYMION lies asleep on the lunary bank.] Corsites. I am come in sight of the lunary bank. Without doubt Tellus doteth upon me, and cunningly, that I might not perceive her love, she hath set me to a task that is done before it is begun. Endymion, you must change [s your pillow, and if you be not weary of sleep, I will carry you where at ease you shall sleep your fill. It were good that without more ceremonies I took him, lest being espied, I be entrapt, and so incur the displeasure of Cynthia, who [10 commonly setteth watch that Endymion have no wrong. [He tries to lift Endymion.] What now, is your mastership so heavy, or are you nail'd to the ground? Not stir one whit! Then use all thy force, though he feel it and wake. [15 What, stone-still? Turn'd, I think, to earth with lying so long on the earth. Didst not thou, Corsites, before Cynthia, pull up a tree that forty years was fast'ned with roots and wreathed in knots to the ground? Didst not [20 thou, with main force, pull open the iron gates which no ram or engine could move? Have my weak thoughts made brawn-fallen my strong arms, or is it the nature of love, or the quintessence of the mind, to breed numbness or [25 litherness, or I know not what languishing in my joints and sinews, being but the base strings of my body? Or doth the remembrance of Tellus so refine my spirits into a matter so subtle and divine that the other fleshy parts [30 cannot work whilst they muse? Rest thyself, rest thyself; nay, rend thyself in pieces, Cor This song appears first in Blount's edition. 4 Fool. 6 In the Grove, till v. 54. 5 Swagger. 7 Languor. |