Classic Poem

ACT III. SCEN. I.

Alcon. Lincus.

VVhat my friend Lincus ? now in troth well met.
Lin. VVell met good Alcon , this fals happily
That we two thus incounter all alone,
VVho had not any conference scarse this moneth.
Al. In troth I long'd to heare how you proceed
In your new practise here among these swaines;
For you and I must grace each others arte:
Though you knew me, vvhen I in Patras dwelt,
And waited on a poore Phisitions man,
And I knew you a Pronotories boy,
That wrote Indentures at the towne-house-doore;
Yet are you here now a great man of law,
And I a graue Phisition full of skill;
And here we two are held the only men:
But how thriue you in your new practise now?
Lin. Alcon , in troth, not any thing to speake;
For these poore people of Arcadia here
Are soone contented each man with his owne,
As they desire no more, nor will be drawne
To any contestation; nor indeed
Is there yet any frame compos'd, whereby
Contention may proceed in practicke forme?
For if they had this frame once, to contend,
Then would they brawle and wrangle without end.
For then might they be taught, and councell'd how
To litigate perpetually, you know;
And so might I be sure to doe some good;
But hauing here no matter whereupon
To furnish reall actions, as else where;
No tenures, but a customary hold
Of what they haue from their progenitors
Common, without indiuiduitie;
No purchasings, no contracts, no comerse,
No politique commands, no seruices,
No generall assemblies but to feast,
And to delight themselues with fresh pastimes;
How can I hope that euer I shall thriue?
Alc. Ist possible that a societie
Can with so little noyse, and sweat subsist?
Lin. It seemes it may, before men haue transform'd
Their state of nature in so many shapes
Of their owne managements, and are cast out
Into confusion, by their knowledges.
And either I must packe me hence, or else
Must labour wholly to dissolue the frame
And composition, of their strange built state;
Which now I seeke to doe, by drawing them
To appr'hend of these proprieties
Of mine and thine , and teach them to incroch
And get them states apart, and priuate shares.
And this I haue already set a worke
If it vvill take; for I haue met with two
The aptest spirits the countrey yeelds, I know,
Montanus and Acrysius ; vvho are both
Old, and both cholericke, and both peruerse,
And both inclinable to Auarice;
And if their quarrell hold, as tis begun
I doe not doubt but all the rest vvill on;
And if the vvorst should fall, if I could gaine
The reputation but to arbitrate,
And sway their strifes, I vvould get vvell by that.
Alc. Tis maruell that their long and easie peace
That fosters plenty, and giues nought to doe,
Should not vvith them beget contention too,
As vvell as other vvhere vve see it doth.
Lin. This peace of theirs is not like others peace;
Where craft laies traps t'inrich himselfe with wiles,
And men make prey of men, and rise by spoiles.
This rather seemes a quiet then a peace:
For this poore corner of Arcadia here,
This little angle of the vvorld you see,
Which hath shut out of doore, all t'earth beside,
And is bard vp with mountaines, and with rocks;
Haue had no intertrading with the rest
Of men, nor yet will haue, but here alone,
Quite out of fortunes way, and vnderneath
Ambition, or desire, that weighes them not,
They liue as if still in the golden age,
When as the world was in his pupillage.
But for mine owne part, Alcon , I protest
I enuy them that they thus make themselues,
An euerlasting holy day of rest,
Whiles others worke; and I doe thinke it fit
Being in the world, they should be of the world,
And if that other states should doe so too
As God forbid, what should we Lawyers doe?
But I hope shortly yet; we shall haue here
As many of vs as are other where:
And we shall sweat, and chafe, and talke as loud,
Brawle our selues hoarse, as well as they doe
At Patras, Sparta, Corinth , or at Thebes ;
And be as arrogant and euen as proud;
And then twill be a world, and not before:
But how dost thou with thy profession frame?
Alc. No man can wish a better place then this
To practise in my arte; for here they will
Be sicke for company, they are so kinde.
I haue now twenty Pacients at this time,
That know not vvhat they ayle; no more doe I:
And they haue Physicke all accordingly.
First Phillis got running at Barley-breake
A little cold, vvhich I vvith certaine drugs
Administred, vvas thought to remedie;
Doris saw that how Phillis Physicke wrought
(For Phillis had told her, she neuer tooke
So delicate a thing in all her life
That more reuiu'd her heart, and clear'd her blood;)
Doris would needs be sicke too, and take some.
Melina seeing that, she would the like,
And so she had the very same receit;
For to say troth, I haue no more but that,
And one poore pill I vse for greater cures.
But this is onely sweet and delicate,
Fit for young women, and is like th'hearbe Iohn,
Doth neither good nor hurt; but that's all one:
For if they but conceiue it doth, it doth;
And it is that Physitians hold the chiefe
In all their cures, conceit, and strong beliefe:
Besides I am a stranger come from farr
Which doth adde much vnto opinion too.
For who now but th' Arabian or the Iew
In forraine lands, are held the onely men,
Although their knowledge be no more then mine.
Lin. 'Tis true friend Alcon , he that hath once got
Th'Elixir of opinion, hath got all,
And h'is th'man that turnes his brasse to gold.
Alc. Then can I talke of Gallen, Auerrois ,
Hypocrates, Rasis , and Auicen ,
And bookes I neuer read, and vse strange speach
Of Symptons, Crysis, and the Critique dayes;
Eclegmats, Embrochs, Lixiues, Cataplasmes;
Of Trochises, Opiats, Apophilegmatismes;
With all the hideous tearmes Arte can deuise
T'amuse weake, and admiring ignorance.
Lin. And that is right my tricke; I ouerwhelme
My practise too, with darknes, and strange words;
With Paragraphs, Conditions, Codicilles,
Acceptilations, actions recissorie,
Noxall, and Hypothecall, and inuolue
Domesticke matter in a forraine phrase.
Alc. Then am I as abstruse and mysticall,
In Carecteer, and giuing my receit,
Obseruing th'odde number in my pills,
And certaine houres to gather and compound
My simples, and make all t'attend the Moone.
Then doe I shew the rare ingredients
I vse for some great cures, when need requires;
The liuer of a Wolfe, the Lyons gall,
The left side of a Moles, the Foxes heart,
The right foote of a Tortuse, Dragons blood;
And such strange sauage stuffe, as euen the names
Are physicke of themselues, to moue a man.
And all the drugs I vse, must come from farre,
Beyond the Ocean, and the Sunne at least,
Or else it hath no vertue Physicall;
These home-bred simples doe no good at all.
Lin. No, no, it must be forraine stuffe, God wot,
Or something else that is not to be got.
Al. But now in faith I haue found out a tricke,
That will perpetually so feede their rheumes,
And entertaine their idle weaknesses,
As nothing in the vvorld could doe the like;
For lately being at Corinth , 'twas my chance
T'incounter with a Sea-man, new-arriu'd
Of Alexandria , vvho from India came,
And brought a certaine hearbe wrapt vp in rowles,
From th'Island of Nicosia , where it growes:
Infus'd I thinke in some pestiferous iuice.
(Produc'd in that contagious burning clime,
Contrarious to our nature, and our spirits)
Or else steep'd in the fuming sap, it selfe
Doth yeeld, t'inforce th'infecting power thereof;
And this in powder made, and fir'd, he suckes
Out of a little hollow instrument
Of calcinated clay, the smoake thereof:
Which either he conuayes out of his nose,
Or downe into his stomacke vvith a vvhiffe.
And this he said a wondrous vertue had,
To purge the head, and cure the great Catarre,
And to dry vp all other meaner rhumes;
Which when I saw, I straight vvay thought how vvell
This new fantasticall deuise would please
The foolish people here growne humorous.
And vp I tooke all this commoditie,
And here haue taught them how to vse the same.
Lin. And it is easie to bring in the vse
Of any thing, though neuer so absurd,
When nations are prepar'd to all abuse,
And th'humour of corruption once is stird.
Alc. Tis true, and now to see with what a strange
And gluttonous desire, th'exhaust the same;
How infinite, and how insatiably,
They doe deuour th'intoxicating fume,
You vvould admire; as if their spirits thereby
Were taken, and inchanted, or transformd,
By some infused philter in the drug.
For vvhereas heretofore they vvonted vvere,
At all their meetings, and their festiualls,
To passe the time in telling vvitty tales,
In questions, riddles, and in purposes,
Now doe they nothing else, but sit and sucke,
And spit, and slauer, all the time they sit;
That I goe by, and laugh vnto my selfe,
And thinke that this wil one day make some worke
For me or others; but I feare it vvill
B'another age will finde the hurt of this.
But sure the time's to come when they looke backe
On this, vvill vvonder vvith themselues to thinke
That men of sense could euer be so mad,
To sucke so grosse a vapour, that consumes
Their spirits, spends nature, dries vp memorie,
Corrupts the blood, and is a vanitie.
Lin. But Alcon peace, here comes a patient, peace.
Al. Lincus , there doth indeed, therefore away;
Leaue me alone, for I must now resume
My surly, graue, and Doctorall aspect.
This wench I know; tis Daphne , who hath wrong'd
Her loue Menalcas , and plaid fast and loose
With Cola,x who reueald the whole to me.

SCEN. II.

Daphne. Alcon.

Good Doctor Alcon , I am come to craue
Your counsell, to aduise me for my health;
For I suppose, in troath, I am not well;
Me thinkes I should be sicke, yet cannot tell:
Some thing there is amisse that troubles me,
For which I would take Phisicke willingly.
Alc. Welcome, faire Nymph, come let me try your pulse;
I cannot blame you t'hold your selfe not well.
Something amisse quoth you, here's all amisse;
Th'whole Fabricke of your selfe distempred is;
The Systole, and Dyastole of your pulse,
Doe shew your passions most hystericall.
It seemes you haue not very carefull beene,
T'obserue the prophilactick regiment
Of your owne body, so that we must now
Descend vnto the Therapheuticall;
That so we may preuent the syndrome
Of Symtomes, and may afterwards apply
Some analepticall Elexipharmacum,
That may be proper for your maladie:
It seemes faire nimph you dream much in the night.
Dap. Doctor, I doe indeed.
Alc. I know you doe;
Y'are troubled much with thought.
Dap. I am indeed.
Alc. I know you are
You haue great heauinesse about your heart.
Dap. Now truly so I haue.
Alc. I know you haue.
You wake oft in the night.
Dap. In troath I doe.
Alc. All this I know you doe;
And this vnlesse by physicke you preuent,
Thinke whereto it may bring you in the end;
And therefore you must first euacuate
All those Colaxicall hote humours which
Disturbe your heart, and then refrigerate
Your blood by some Menalchian Cordials,
Which you must take, & you shal straight find ease:
And in the morning I will visit you.
Dap. I pray Sir, let me take of that you gaue,
To Phillis th'other day; for that she said,
Did comfort wonderfully, and cheere her heart.
Alc. Faire nimph, you must, if you wil vse my art,
Let me alone, to giue vvhat I thinke good;
I knew what fitted Phillis maladie,
And so, I thinke, I know what will fit you.

Daphne sola.

O what a wondrous skil[lfu]l man is this?
Why he knowes all? O God, who euer thought
Any man liuing, could haue told so right
A womans griefe in all points as he hath?
Why, this is strange that by my very pulse
He should know all I ayle, as well as I.
Beside I feare he sees too much in mee,
More then I would that any man should see.
Me thought (although I could not well conceiue
His words, he spake so learned and so strange)
He said I had misruld my body much;
As if he meant that in some wanton sort,
I had abus'd my body with some man:
O how should he know that? what is my pulse
Become the intelligencer of my shame?
Or are my lookes the index of my heart?
Sure so he said, and me thought too, he nam'd
Menalcas , or else something very like;
And likewise nam'd that cunning treacherous wretch
That hath vndone me, Colax , that vile Diuell;
Who is indeed the cause of all my griefe,
For which I now seeke Physicke; but O what
Can Physicke doe to cure that hideous wound
My lusts haue giuen my Conscience? which I see
Is that which onely is diseas'd within,
And not my body now; that's it doth so
Disquiet all the lodging of my spirits,
As keepes me waking; that is it presents
Those onely formes of terror that affright
My broken sleepes; that, layes vpon my heart
This heauy loade that weighes it downe with griefe;
And no disease beside: for which there is
No cure I see at all, nor no redresse.
Didst thou alleadge vile man to my weake youth,
How that those vowes I made vnto my loue
Were bands of custome, and could not lay on
Those manicles on nature, vvhich should keepe
Her freedome prisoner by our dome of breath?
O impious wretch now nature giues the lye
To thy foule heart and tels my grieued soule,
I haue done vvrong, to falsifie that vow
I first to my deare loue Meualcas made.
And sayes th'assurance and the faith is giuen
By band on earth, the same is seal'd in Heauen.
And therefore now Menalcas can these eyes
That now abhorre to looke vpon my selfe,
Dare euer view that vvronged face of thine,
Who hast relide on this false heart of mine?

SCEN. III.

Colax. Techne.

Ist possible sweet Techne , what you say,
That Cloris is so witty, and so coy?
Tec. Tis as I tell you Colax , sh'is as coy
And hath as shrewd a spirit, as quicke conceipt,
As euer wench I brok'd in all my life.
Col. Then there's some glory in attaining her;
Here now I shall be sure t'haue something yet
Besides dull beauty, I shall lie vvith wit;
For these faire creatures, haue such feeble spirits,
And are so languishing, as giue no edge
To appetite, and loue, but stuffes delight.
Tec. Well if you get her, then you shall be sure
To haue your vvish; and yet perhaps that store
You find in her, may checke your longing more
Then all their wants, whom you haue tride before.
Col. How? if I get her; what doe you suppose,
I shall not get her? that were very strange.
Tec. Yes sir, she may be got, but yet I know
Sh'will put you to the triall of your wit.
Col. Let me alone, could I find season fit
To talke with her in priuate, she vvere mine.
Tec. That season may you now haue very well;
For Colax , she hath promis'd faithfully
This euening late to meete me at the caue
Of Erycina , vnderneath the hill;
Where I must fit her vvith a new attyre
Where vvith sh's farre in loue; and th'other day
Thinking to try it at her fathers house,
(Whether I went vvith her to deale for you)
The old Acrysius was himselfe at home,
VVhich did enforce vs to deferre our worke
Vntill this euening, that we might alone
There out of sight, more closely do the same:
Where while she stayes (for I will make her stay
For me a while) you at your pleasure may
Haue th'opportunity vvhich you desire.
Col. O Techne , thou hast blest me; if I now
On this aduantage conquer not her mind,
Let me be loathed of all vvoman-kind.
And presently will I go sute my selfe
As brauely as I can, go set my lookes,
Arme my discourse, frame speaches passionate,
And action both, fit for so great a worke:
Techne a thousand thankes, and so adieu.
Tec. Well Colax , she may yet deceiue thy hopes,
And I perswade my selfe she is as like
As any subtile vvench was euer borne,
To giue as wise a man as you the skorne:
But see, where one whose faith hath better right
Vnto her loue then you, comes here forlorne
Like fortunes out-cast, full of heauines.
Ah poore Amyntas , vvould thou knewst how much
Thou art esteem'd, although not vvhere thou wouldst,
Yet vvhere thou should haue loue in that degree,
As neuer liuing man had like to thee.
Ah see how I, who sets for others loue,
Am tooke my selfe, and intricated here
With one, that hath his heart another where?
But I vvill labour to diuert the streame
Of his affections, and to turne his thoughts
From that coy Cloris , to the liberty
Of his owne heart, vvith hope to make him mine.

SCEN. IIII.

Techne. Amyntas.

Now fie Amyntas , why should you thus grieue
For a most foolish vvay-ward girle, that scornes
Your honest loue, and laughes at all you doe;
For shame Amyntas let her go as sh'is.
You see her vaine, and how peruersly set;
Tis fond to follow vvhat we cannot get.
Am. O Techne , Techne , though I neuer get,
Yet will I euer follow vvhilst I breath,
And if I perish by the vvay, yet shall
My death be pleasing that for her I die.
And one day she may hap to come that way,
(And be it, O her way) where I shall lye;
And with her proud disdainefull foote she may
Tread on my tombe, and say, loe where he lies,
The tryumph, and the conquest of mine eyes.
And though I loose my selfe, and loose my teares,
It shall be glory yet that I was hers.
VVhat haue I done of late, should make her thus
My presence with that strange disdaine to flye,
As if she did abhorre my company?
Cloris God knowes, thou hast no cause therefore,
Vnlesse it be for louing more, and more.
Why, thou wert vvont to lend me yet an eare,
And though thou wouldst not helpe, yet wouldst thou heare.
Tec. Perhaps she thinkes thy heat will be allayd,
The fire being gone, and therefore doth she well
Not to be seene there vvhere she vvill not aide.
Am. Alas she knowes no hand but hers can quench
That heat in me, and therefore doth she vvrong
To fire my heart, and then to runne away;
And if she would not aide, yet might she ease
My carefull soule, if she vvould but stand by
And only looke vpon me while I die.
Tec. Well well Amyntas , little doest thou know
With vvhom that cunning vvanton sorts her selfe.
Whil'st thus thou mourn'st, and vvith what secret wiles
She vvorkes, to meet her louer in the vvoods;
With whom in groues, and caues she dallying sits,
And mockes thy passions and thy dolefull fits.
Am. No Techne , no, I know that cannot be,
And therefore do not vvrong her modesty;
For Cloris loues no man, and that's some ease
Vnto my griefe, and giues a hope that yet
If euer soft affection touch her heart,
She will looke backe, and thinke on my desert.
Tec. If that be all, that hope is at an end;
For if thou wilt this euening but attend
And walke downe vnder Erycinas groue,
And place thy selfe in some close secret bush,
Right opposite vnto the hollow caue
That lookes into the vally, thou shalt see
That honesty, and that great modesty.
Am. If I see Cloris there, I know I shall
See nothing else vvith her, but modesty.
Tec. Yes something els will grieue your heart to see:
But you must be content, and thinke your selfe
Are not the first that thus haue bin deceiu'd,
With faire appearing out-sides, and mistooke
A wanton heart, by a chast seeming looke.
But I coniure you by the loue you beare
Vnto those eyes which make you (as you are
Th'example of compassion to the world)
Sit close and be not seene in any case.
Am. Well Techne , if I shall see Cloris there
It is enough, then thither will I goe
Who will go any where to looke on her.
And Cloris know, I do not go to see,
Any thing else of thee, but only thee.
Tec. Well go and thinke yet of her honest care,
VVho giues the note of such a shamefull deed;
And iudge Amyntas , when thou shalt be free,
VVho more deserues thy loue, or I or she.

SCEN. V.

Melibaeus. Ergastus.

Now what infernall proiects are here laid,
T'afflict an honest heart, t'expose a maide,
Vnto the danger of a lone assault,
To make her to offend, without her fault.
Er. And see what other new appearing spirits
Would raise the tempests of disturbances
Vpon our rest, and labour to bring in
All the whole Ocean of vnquietnesse,
To ouerwhelme the poore peace we liue in?
How one would faine instruct, and teach vs how
To cut our throates with forme, and to contend
VVith artificiall knowledge, to vndoo
Each other, and to brabble without end.
As if that nature had not tooke more care
For vs, then we for our owne selues can take;
And makes vs better lawes then those we make.
And as if all that science ought could giue
Vnto our blisse, but only shewes vs how
The better to contend, but not to liue.
And euermore we see how vice doth grow
With knowledge, and brings forth a more increase,
When skilfull men begin, how good men cease
And therefore how much better do vve liue,
With quiet ignorance, then vve should do
With turbulent and euer vvorking skill,
Which makes vs not to liue, but labour still.
Mel. And see that other vaine fantasticke spirit,
Who vvould corrupt our bodies too likewise,
As this our mindes, and make our health to be,
As troublesome as sicknesse, to deuise,
That no part of vs euer should be free;
Both forraging on our credulity,
Take still th'aduantage of our weakenesses;
Both cloath their friuolous vncertainties
In strange attires, to make it seeme the lesse.