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Is like a sacred book that's never read ;
30 FORTUNE gires to FORTUNATUS a purse that is inexhaustible.
With this he puts on costly attire, and visits all the Asian Courts, where he is caressed and made much of for his infinite wealth. At Babylon he is shown by the Soldan a wondrous hat, which in a wish transports the rearer whithersoever he pleases, over land and sed. FORTUN ATU8 puts it on, wishes himself at home in Cyprus ; uchere he arrires in a minute, as his sons AMPEDO and ANDELOCIA are talking of him: and tells his Travels.
FORTUNATUS. AMPEDO. ANDELOCIA. Fort. Touch me not, boys, I am nothing but air ; Let none speak to me till you have marked me well. Am I as you are, or am I transformed ?
And. Methinks, father, you look as you did, only your face is more withered.
Fort. Boys, be proud; your father hath the whole world in this compass; I am all felicity up to the brims. In a minute am I come from Babylon; I have been this half hour in Famagosta.
And. How ! in a minute, father? I see travellers must lie.
8 Fort. I have cut through the air like a falcon. I would have it seem strange to you.
But 'tis true. I would not have you believe it neither. But 'tis miraculous and true. Desire to see you brought me to Cyprus. I'll leave you more gold, and go visit more countries.
Amp. The frosty hand of age now nips your blood, And strews her snowy flowers upon your head, And gives you warning that within few years Death needs must marry you: those short lives,
minutes, That dribble out your life, must needs be spent In peace, not travel ; rest in Cyprus then. 20 Could you survey ten worlds, yet you must die ; And bitter is the sweet that's reapt thereby.
And. Faith, father, what pleasure have you met by walking your stations ?
Fort. What pleasure, boy? I have revelled with Kings, danced with Queens, dallied with Ladies ; worn strange attires ; seen Fantasticoes; conversed with Humorists; been ravished with divine raptures of Doric, Lydian, and Phrygian harmonies ; I have spent the day in triumphs, and the night in banquetting.
31 And. O rare: this was heavenly.--He that would not be an Arabian Phænix to burn in these sweet fires, let him live like an owl for the world to wonder at.
Amp. Why, brother, are not all these Vanities?
Fort. Vanities ! Ampedo, thy soul is made of lead, too dull, too ponderous, to mount up to the incomprehensible glory that travel lifts men to. And. Sweeten mine ears, good father, with some
40 Fort. When in the warmth of mine own country's
We yawn'd like sluggards, when this small horizon
And. Oh how my soul is rapt to a third heaven ! I'll travel sure, and live with none but kings.
Amp. But tell me, father, have you in all Courts Beheld such glory, so majestical, In all perfection, no way blemished ?
Fort. In some Courts shall you see Ambition Sit, piecing Dædalus's old waxen wings;
30 But being clapt on, and they about to fly, Even when their hopes are busied in the clouds, They melt against the sun of Majesty, And down they tumble to destruction. By travel, boys, I have seen all these things. Fantastic Compliment stalks up and down, Tricked in outlandish feathers; all his words, His looks, his oaths, are all ridiculous, All apish, childish, and Italianate. ORLEANS to his friend GALLOWAY defends the passion
with which (being a prisoner in the English king's court) he is enamoured to frenzy of the king's daughter AGRIPYNA.
Gall. Gentle friend, no more.
Orl. o I love that madness,
Gall. Let me tame this frenzy,
Orl. If he do, why so do I.
Gall. Dear friend, thou art deceiv'd: 0 bid thy soul Lift up her intellectual eyes to heaven,
20 And in this ample book of wonders read, Of what celestial mould, what sacred essence, Herself is form'd : the search whereof will drive Sounds musical among the jarring spirits, And in sweet tune set that which none inherits,
Orl. I'll gaze on heaven if Agripyne be there. If not: fa, la, la, Sol, la, &c.
Gall. O call this madness in': see, from the window
Orl. Laugh they at me, sweet Galloway?
Orl. Ha, ha, I laugh at them: are they not mad,
They laugh to see grief kill me: O fond men,
Gail. Dear friend, forbear ;
Orl. Thou art a Traitor to that White and Red,