Part 23
Pandora is the only one of these poetic terms for Elizabeth peculiar to Dekker. The rest of them are used by others of the Elizabethan poets. He evidently here conceives Pandora on the side of her good fortune only, as receiving the gifts of the gods, and not in her more familiar association with the story of Pandora’s Box and its evils.
_2nd O. Man._ Even to her temple are my feeble limbs travelling. Some call her Pandora: some Gloriana, some Cynthia: some Delphœbe, some Astræa: all by several names to express several loves: yet all those names make but one celestial body, as all those loves meet to create but one soul.
_1st O. Man._ I am one of her own country, and we adore her by the name of Eliza.
_2nd O. Man._ Blessed name, happy country: your Eliza makes your land Elysium: but what do you offer?
_1st O. Man._ That which all true subjects should: when I was young, an armed hand; now I am crooked, an upright heart: but what offer you?
_2nd O. Man._ That which all strangers do: two eyes struck blind with admiration: two lips proud to sound her glory: two hands held up full of prayers and praises: what not, that may express love? what not, that may make her beloved?
_1st O. Man._ How long is’t since you last beheld her?
_2nd O. Man._ A just year: yet that year hath seemed to me but one day, because her glory hath been my hourly contemplation, and yet that year hath seemed to me more than twice seven years, because so long I have been absent from her. Come therefore, good father, let’s go faster, lest we come too late: for see, the tapers of the night are already lighted, and stand brightly burning in their starry candle-sticks: see how gloriously the moon shines upon us. [_Both kneel._
_1st O. Man._ Peace, fool: tremble, and kneel: the moon say’st thou? Our eyes are dazzled by Eliza’s beams, See (if at least thou dare see) where she sits: This is the great Pantheon of our goddess, And all those faces which thine eyes thought stars, Are nymphs attending on her deity. Prithee begin, for I want power to speak.
_2nd O. Man._ No, no, speak thou, I want words to begin. [_Weeps._
_1st O. Man._ Alack, what shall I do? com’st thou with me, And weep’st now thou behold’st this majesty?
_2nd O. Man._ Great landlady of hearts, pardon me.
_1st O. Man._ Blame not mine eyes, good father, in these tears.
_2nd O. Man._ My pure love shines, as thine doth in thy fears: I weep for joy to see so many heads Of prudent ladies, clothed in the livery Of silver-handed age, for serving you, Whilst in your eyes youth’s glory doth renew: I weep for joy to see the sun look old, To see the moon mad at her often change, To see the stars only by night to shine, Whilst you are still bright, still one, still divine: I weep for joy to see the world decay, Yet see Eliza flourishing like May: O pardon me your pilgrim, I have measured Many a mile to find you: and have brought Old Fortunatus and his family, With other Cypriots, my poor countrymen, To pay a whole year’s tribute: O vouchsafe, Dread Queen of Fairies, with your gracious eyes, T’accept theirs and our humble sacrifice.
_1st O. Man._ Now I’ll beg for thee too: and yet I need not: Her sacred hand hath evermore been known, As soon held out to strangers as her own.
_2nd O. Man._ Thou dost encourage me: I’ll fetch them in, They have no princely gifts, we are all poor, Our offerings are true hearts, who can wish more? [_Exeunt._
[Illustration: PROLOGUE.]
Of Love’s sweet war our timorous Muse doth sing, And to the bosom of each gentle dear, Offers her artless tunes, borne on the wing Of sacred poesy. A benumbing fear, That your nice souls, cloyed with delicious sounds, Will loath her lowly notes, makes her pull in Her fainting pinions, and her spirit confounds, Before the weak voice of her song begin. Yet since within the circle of each eye, Being like so many suns in his round sphere, No wrinkle yet is seen, she’ll dare to fly, Borne up with hopes, that as you oft do rear With your fair hands, those who would else sink down, So some will deign to smile, where all might frown: And for this small circumference must stand, For the imagined surface of much land, Of many kingdoms, and since many a mile Should here be measured out, our Muse entreats Your thoughts to help poor art, and to allow That I may serve as Chorus to her senses; She begs your pardon, for she’ll send one forth, Not when the laws of poesy do call, But as the story needs; your gracious eye Gives life to Fortunatus’ history. [_Exit._
[Illustration]
[Illustration: _DRAMATIS PERSONÆ._]
ATHELSTANE, King of England. The Soldan of Egypt. The Prince of Cyprus. CORNWALL, } CHESTER, } English Nobles. LINCOLN, } MONTROSE, } Scotch Nobles. GALLOWAY, } ORLEANS, } French Nobles. LONGAVILLE, } INSULTADO, a Spanish Lord. FORTUNATUS. AMPEDO, } Sons of FORTUNATUS. ANDELOCIA, } SHADOW, Servant to AMPEDO and ANDELOCIA. Kings, Nobles, Soldiers, Satyrs, a Carter, a Tailor, a Monk, a Shepherd, Chorus, Boys and other Attendants. AGRIPYNE, Daughter of ATHELSTANE. FORTUNE, } VIRTUE, } Goddesses. VICE, } The Three Destinies. Nymphs, Ladies, &c.
SCENE--CYPRUS, BABYLON, and ENGLAND.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
_OLD FORTUNATUS._
ACT THE FIRST.
## SCENE I.--_A Wood in Cyprus._
_Enter_ FORTUNATUS _meanly attired; he walks about cracking nuts ere he speaks_.
FORT. So, ho, ho, ho, ho.
_Echo_ [_Within._]. Ho, ho, ho, ho.
_Fort._ There, boy.
_Echo._ There, boy.
_Fort._ An thou bee’st a good fellow, tell me how call’st this wood.
_Echo._ This wood.
_Fort._ Ay, this wood, and which is my best way out.
_Echo._ Best way out.
_Fort._ Ha, ha, ha, that’s true, my best way out is my best way out, but how that out will come in, by this maggot I know not. I see by this we are all worms’ meat. Well, I am very poor and very patient; Patience is a virtue: would I were not virtuous, that’s to say, not poor, but full of vice, that’s to say, full of chinks. Ha, ha, so I am, for I am so full of chinks, that a horse with one eye may look through and through me. I have sighed long, and that makes me windy; I have fasted long, and that makes me chaste; marry, I have prayed little, and that makes me I still dance in this conjuring circle; I have wandered long, and that makes me weary. But for my weariness, anon I’ll lie down, instead of fasting I’ll feed upon nuts, and instead of sighing will laugh and be lean, Sirrah Echo.
_Echo._ Sirrah Echo.
_Fort._ Here’s a nut.
_Echo._ Here’s a nut.
_Fort._ Crack it.
_Echo._ Crack it.
_Fort._ Hang thyself.
_Echo._ Hang thyself.
_Fort._ Th’art a knave, a knave.
_Echo._ A knave, a knave.
_Fort._ Ha, ha, ha, ha!
_Echo._ Ha, ha, ha, ha!
_Fort._ Why so, two fools laugh at one another, I at my tittle tattle gammer Echo, and she at me. Shortly there will creep out in print some filthy book of the old hoary wandering knight, meaning me: would I were that book, for then I should be sure to creep out from hence. I should be a good soldier, for I traverse my ground rarely; marry I see neither enemy nor friends, but popinjays, and squirrels, and apes, and owls, and daws, and wagtails, and the spite is that none of these grass-eaters can speak my language, but this fool that mocks me, and swears to have the last word, in spite of my teeth, ay, and she shall have it because she is a woman, which kind of cattle are indeed all echo, nothing but tongue, and are like the great bell of St. Michael’s[331] in Cyprus, that keeps most rumbling when men would most sleep. Echo, a pox on thee for mocking me.
[331] Probably a church in Famagosta, which tradition makes Fortunatus’s native place, and which was at one time the chief port and fortress in Cyprus.
_Echo._ A pox on thee for mocking me.
_Fort._ Why so, Snip snap, this war is at an end, but this wilderness is world without end. To see how travel can transform: my teeth are turned into nutcrackers, a thousand to one I break out shortly, for I am full of nothing but waxen kernels, my tongue speaks no language but an almond for a parrot, and crack me this nut. If I hop three days more up and down this cage of cuckoos’ nests, I shall turn wild man sure, and be hired to throw squibs among the commonalty upon some terrible day. In the meantime, to tell truth, here will I lie. Farewell, fool!
_Echo._ Farewell, fool.
_Fort._ Are not these comfortable words to a wise man? All hail, signor tree, by your leave I’ll sleep under your leaves. I pray bow to me, and I’ll bend to you, for your back and my brows must, I doubt, have a game or two at noddy ere I wake again: down, great heart, down. Hey, ho, well, well. [_He lies down and sleeps._
_Enter a ~Shepherd~, a ~Carter~,[332] a ~Tailor~,[333] and a ~Monk~, all crowned; a ~Nymph~ with a globe, another with_ FORTUNE’S _wheel; then_ FORTUNE. _After her, four ~Kings~ with broken crowns and sceptres, chained in silver gyves and led by her. The foremost enter singing._ FORTUNE _takes her chair, the ~Kings~ lying at her feet so that she treads on them as she ascends to her seat._
[332] “A gardener” in the original, which does not tally with the description given by Fortune on p. 300. _q.v._
[333] “A smith” in the original, which is again a confusion with the description in the text.
SONG.
Fortune smiles, cry holiday, Dimples on her cheeks do dwell, Fortune frowns, cry welladay, Her love is Heaven, her hate is Hell: Since Heaven and Hell obey her power. Tremble when her eyes do lower, Since Heaven and Hell her power obey, When she smiles, cry holiday. Holiday with joy we cry And bend, and bend, and merrily Sing hymns to Fortune’s deity, Sing hymns to Fortune’s deity.
_Chorus._ Let us sing, merrily, merrily, merrily, With our song let Heaven resound, Fortune’s hands our heads have crowned; Let us sing merrily, merrily, merrily.
_1st King._ Accursed Queen of chance, what had we done, Who having sometimes like young Phaeton, Rid in the burnished chariot of the sun, And sometimes been thy minions, when thy fingers Weaved wanton love-nets in our curlèd hair, And with sweet juggling kisses warmed our cheeks: Oh how have we offended thy proud eyes, That thus we should be spurned and trod upon, Whilst those infected limbs of the sick world, Are fixed by thee for stars in that bright sphere, Wherein our sun-like radiance did appear.
_The Kings._ Accursèd Queen of chance, damned sorceress.
_The Others._ Most powerful Queen of chance, dread sovereigness.
_Fortune._ No more: curse on! your cries to me are music, And fill the sacred rondure of mine ears With tunes more sweet than moving of the spheres: Curse on: on our celestial brows do sit Unnumbered smiles, which then leap from their throne, When they see peasants dance and monarchs groan. Behold you not this globe, this golden bowl, This toy called world, at our imperial feet? This world is Fortune’s ball, wherewith she sports. Sometimes I strike it up into the air, And then create I emperors and kings: Sometimes I spurn it, at which spurn crawls out That wild beast Multitude. Curse on, you fools,-- ’Tis I that tumble princes from their thrones, And gild false brows with glittering diadems. ’Tis I that tread on necks of conquerors, And when, like demi-gods, they have been drawn In ivory chariots to the capitol, Circled about with wonder of all eyes, The shouts of every tongue, love of all hearts, Being swoll’n with their own greatness, I have pricked The bladder of their pride, and made them die, As water-bubbles, without memory. I thrust base cowards into Honour’s chair, Whilst the true-spirited soldier stands by Bare-headed, and all bare, whilst at his scars They scoff, that ne’er durst view the face of wars. I set an idiot’s cap on Virtue’s head,[334] Turn Learning out of doors, clothe Wit in rags, And paint ten thousand images of loam In gaudy silken colours. On the backs Of mules and asses I make asses ride, Only for sport, to see the apish world Worship such beasts with sound idolatry. This Fortune does, and when this is done, She sits and smiles to hear some curse her name, And some with adoration crown her fame.
[334] An allusion to the coxcomb, the invariable ornament to the fool’s cap, which Virtue wears on her head. See description,
## Scene III.
_Monk._ True centre of this wide circumference, Sacred commandress of the destinies, Our tongues shall only sound thy excellence.
_The Others._ Thy excellence our tongues shall only sound.
_2nd King._ Thou painted strumpet, that with honeyed smiles, Openest the gates of Heaven and criest, “Come in;” Whose glories being seen, thou with one frown, In pride, lower than hell tumblest us down.
_The Kings._ Ever, for ever, will we ban thy name.
_Fortune._ How sweet your howlings relish in mine ears! [_She comes down._
Stand by! now rise,--behold, here lies a wretch, To vex your souls, this beggar I’ll advance Beyond the sway of thought; take instruments, And let the raptures of choice harmony, Thorough the hollow windings of his ear, Carry their sacred sounds, and wake each sense, To stand amazed at our bright eminence. [_Music._ FORTUNATUS _wakes_.
_Fort._ Oh, how am I transported? Is this earth? Or blest Elysium?
_Fortune._ Fortunatus, rise.
_Fort._ Dread goddess, how should such a wretch as I Be known to such a glorious deity? Oh pardon me: for to this place I come, Led by my fate, not folly; in this wood With weary sorrow have I wanderèd, And three times seen the sweating sun take rest, And three times frantic Cynthia naked ride About the rusty highways of the skies Stuck full of burning stars, which lent her light To court her negro paramour grim Night.
_Fortune._ This travel now expires: yet from this circle, Where I and these with fairy troops abide, Thou canst not stir, unless I be thy guide. I the world’s empress am, Fortune my name, This hand hath written in thick leaves of steel An everlasting book of changeless fate, Showing who’s happy, who unfortunate.
_Fort._ If every name, dread queen, be there writ down I am sure mine stands in characters of black; Though happiness herself lie in my name, I am Sorrow’s heir, and eldest son to Shame.
_The Kings._ No, we are sons to Shame, and Sorrow’s heirs.
_Fortune._ Thou shalt be one of Fortune’s minions: Behold these four chained like Tartarian slaves, These I created emperors and kings, And these are now my basest underlings: This sometimes was a German emperor, Henry the Fifth,[335] who being first deposed, Was after thrust into a dungeon, And thus in silver chains shall rot to death. This Frederick Barbarossa, Emperor Of Almaine[336] once: but by Pope Alexander[337] Now spurned and trod on when he takes his horse, And in these fetters shall he die his slave. This wretch once wore the diadem of France, Lewis the meek,[338] but through his children’s pride, Thus have I caused him to be famishèd. Here stands the very soul of misery, Poor Bajazet, old Turkish Emperor, And once the greatest monarch in the East;[339] Fortune herself is said to view thy fall, And grieves to see thee glad to lick up crumbs At the proud feet of that great Scythian swain, Fortune’s best minion, warlike Tamburlaine: Yet must thou in a cage of iron be drawn In triumph at his heels, and there in grief Dash out thy brains.
[335] The description corresponds rather to Henry IV. of Germany, who died in 1106.
[336] Frederick I. called Barbarossa, Emperor of Germany, _i.e._ Allemagne (Almaine), the grandson of Henry IV.
[337] Alexander III.
[338] Louis I. called Le Débonnaire, son of Charlemagne, d. 840.
[339] Bajazet I. called Yilderim, _i.e._ Lightning, because of the rapidity of his movement in the field of war, first Sultan of the Ottoman Empire, who was humiliated by Timur (Tamburlaine). Compare Marlowe’s _Tamburlaine the Great_.
_4th King._ Oh miserable me!
_Fortune._ No tears can melt the heart of destiny: These have I ruined and exalted those. These hands have conquered Spain, these brows fill up The golden circle of rich Portugal,-- Viriat a monarch now, but born a shepherd;[340] This Primislaus, a Bohemian king, Last day a carter;[341] this monk, Gregory,[342] Now lifted to the Papal dignity;-- Wretches,[343] why gnaw you not your fingers off, And tear your tongues out, seeing yourselves trod down, And this Dutch botcher[344] wearing Munster’s crown, John Leyden,[345] born in Holland poor and base, Now rich in empery and Fortune’s grace? As these I have advanced, so will I thee. Six gifts I spend upon mortality, Wisdom, strength, health, beauty, long life, and riches, Out of my bounty: one of these is thine,-- Choose then which likes thee best.
[340] Viriathus, a shepherd who became a famous Lusitanian chief in the 2nd century B.C., and long warred successfully against the Romans in Spain.
[341] Primislaus, a country labourer, who became first Duke of Bohemia, having married the daughter of Croc who founded the city of Prague.
[342] Gregory VII. (1013-1085).
[343] Fortune here turns and addresses the four deposed kings again.
[344] Tailor. See _The Devil’s Answer to Pierce Pennylesse_ (Dekker’s non-dramatic works, The Huth Library, edited by the Rev. A. B. Grosart, vol. ii. p. 147), “That botcher I preferred to be Lucifer’s tailor, because he works with a hot needle and burnt thread.”
[345] John of Leyden (John Beccold), b. 1510, d. 1536, a tailor, who became a leader of the Anabaptists and at their head took extraordinary possession of the city of Munster, and ruled for a brief space as king there, before constitutional authority was restored and he was seized and put to death.
_Fort._ Oh most divine! Give me but leave to borrow wonder’s eye, To look amazed at thy bright majesty, Wisdom, strength, health, beauty, long life, and riches.
_Fortune._ Before thy soul at this deep lottery Draw forth her prize, ordained by destiny, Know that here’s no recanting a first choice. Choose then discreetly for the laws of Fate, Being graven in steel, must stand inviolate.
_Fort._ Daughters of Jove and the unblemished Night, Most righteous Parcae,[346] guide my genius right, Wisdom, strength, health, beauty, long life, and riches.
[346] The Three Destinies, to whom Fortune herself was sometimes added as a fourth. Fortunatus here seems to be addressing Fortune and her two attendant nymphs, for no stage direction is specially given for the entrance of the Three Destinies, as in
## Act II. sc. ii., _q.v._
_Fortune._ Stay, Fortunatus, once more hear me speak; If thou kiss Wisdom’s cheek and make her thine, She’ll breathe into thy lips divinity, And thou like Phœbus shalt speak oracle, Thy Heaven-inspired soul, on Wisdom’s wings, Shall fly up to the Parliament of Jove, And read the statutes of eternity, And see what’s past and learn what is to come. If thou lay claim to strength, armies shall quake To see thee frown: as kings at mine do lie, So shall thy feet trample on empery. Make health thine object, thou shalt be strong proof ’Gainst the deep searching darts of surfeiting, Be ever merry, ever revelling. Wish but for beauty, and within thine eyes Two naked Cupids amorously shall swim,[347] And on thy cheeks I’ll mix such white and red, That Jove shall turn away young Ganymede, And with immortal arms shall circle thee. Are thy desires long life?--thy vital thread Shall be stretched out, thou shalt behold the change Of monarchies and see those children die, Whose great great grandsires now in cradles lie. If through gold’s sacred hunger thou dost pine, Those gilded wantons which in swarms do run, To warm their tender bodies in the sun, Shall stand for number of those golden piles, Which in rich pride shall swell before thy feet; As those are, so shall these be infinite. Awaken then thy soul’s best faculties, And gladly kiss this bounteous hand of Fate, Which strives to bless thy name of Fortunate.
[347] See an anonymous poem in _Tottel’s Miscellany_, 1557, called “A praise of his Lady,” from which Dekker may have borrowed the fancy:--
“In each of her two crystal eyes Smileth a naked boy.”
_The Kings._ Old man, take heed, her smiles will murder thee.
_The Others._ Old man, she’ll crown thee with felicity.
_Fort._ Oh, whither am I rapt beyond myself? More violent conflicts fight in every thought, Than his whose fatal choice Troy’s downfall wrought. Shall I contract myself to wisdom’s love? Then I lose riches: and a wise man poor, Is like a sacred book that’s never read,-- To himself he lives, and to all else seems dead. This age thinks better of a gilded fool, Than of a threadbare saint in wisdom’s school. I will be strong: then I refuse long life, And though mine arm should conquer twenty worlds, There’s a lean fellow beats all conquerors: The greatest strength expires with loss of breath; The mightiest in one minute stoop to death. Then take long life, or health: should I do so I might grow ugly, and that tedious scroll Of months and years, much misery may enroll Therefore I’ll beg for beauty; yet I will not, That fairest cheek hath oftentimes a soul Leprous as sin itself; than hell more foul. The wisdom of this world is idiotism, Strength a weak reed: health sickness’ enemy, And it at length will have the victory. Beauty is but a painting, and long life Is a long journey in December gone, Tedious and full of tribulation. Therefore, dread sacred Empress, make me rich, [_Kneels down._ My choice is store of gold; the rich are wise. He that upon his back rich garments wears, Is wise, though on his head grow Midas’ ears. Gold is the strength, the sinews of the world, The health, the soul, the beauty most divine, A mask of gold hides all deformities; Gold is Heaven’s physic, life’s restorative, Oh therefore make me rich: not as the wretch, That only serves lean banquets to his eye, Has gold, yet starves: is famished in his store: No, let me ever spend, be never poor.
_Fortune._ Thy latest words confine thy destiny, Thou shalt spend ever, and be never poor: For proof receive this purse: with it this virtue Still when thou thrust thy hand into the same, Thou shalt draw forth ten pieces of bright gold, Current in any realm where then thou breathest; If thou canst dribble out the sea by drops, Then shalt thou want: but that can ne’er be done, Nor this grow empty.
_Fort._ Thanks, great deity.
_Fortune._ The virtue ends when thou and thy sons end. This path leads thee to Cyprus,[348] get thee hence; Farewell, vain covetous fool, thou wilt repent, That for the love of dross thou hast despised Wisdom’s divine embrace, she would have borne thee On the rich wings of immortality; But now go dwell with cares and quickly die.
[348] Dekker is not careful even to remember here that Cyprus is an island.