Part 9

D. AL. Here’s New Year. PLUM. I’ve ne’er a gift to give him; I’ll begone. [_Exit._ D. AL. Mirth and a healthful time fill all your days! Look freshly, sir. N. YEAR. I cannot, master doctor, My father’s death sets the spring backward i’ me For joy and comfort yet; I’m now between Sorrow and joy, the winter and the spring; And as time gathers freshness in its season, No doubt affects[198] will be subdu’d with reason. D. AL. You’ve a brave mind to work on; use my rules, And you shall cut a caper in November, When other years, your grandfathers, lay bed-rid. N. YEAR. What’s he that looks so piteously and shakes so? D. AL.[199] A Fasting-Day. N. YEAR. How’s that? D. AL. A foolish Fasting-Day, An unseasonable coxcomb, seeks now for a service; Has hunted up and down, has been at court, And the long porter[200] broke his head across there; He had rather see the devil; for this he says, He ne’er grew up so tall with fasting-days. I would not, for the price of all my almanacs, The guard had took him there, they’d ha’ beat out His brains with bombards.[201] I bade him stay till Lent, And now he whimpers; he’d to Rome, forsooth, That’s his last refuge, but would try awhile How well he should be us’d in Lancashire. N. YEAR. He was my father’s servant, that he was, sir.[202] D. AL. ’Tis here upon record. F.-DAY. I serv’d him honestly, and cost him little. D. AL. Ay, I’ll be sworn for that. F.-DAY. Those were the times, sir, That made your predecessors rich and able To lay up more for you; and since poor Fasting-days Were not made reckoning on, the pamper’d flesh Has play’d the knave, maids have had fuller bellies, Those meals that once were say’d have stirr’d, and leapt, And begot bastards, and they must be kept; Better keep Fasting-days, yourself may tell ye,[203] And for the profit of purse, back, and belly. D. AL. I never yet heard truth better whin’d out. N. YEAR. Thou shalt not all be lost, nor, for vain-glory, Greedily welcom’d; we’ll begin with virtue As we may hold with’t, that does virtue right.— Set him down, sir, for Candlemas-Eve at night. F.-DAY. Well, better late than never: This is my comfort,—I shall come to make All the fat rogues go to bed supperless, Get dinners where they can. [_Exit._

_Enter_ TIME.

N. YEAR. How now? what’s he? D. AL. It is old Time, sir, that belong’d to all Your predecessors. N. YEAR. O, I honour that Reverend figure! may I ever think How precious thou’rt in youth, how rarely Redeem’d in age! TIME. Observe, you have Time’s service; There’s all in brief.

_Enter, for the first Antimasque_,[204] CANDLEMAS-DAY, SHROVE-TUESDAY, LENT, ILL MAY-DAY, MIDSUMMER-EVE, _and_ FIRST DOG-DAY.

N. YEAR. Ha, doctor, what are these? TIME. The rabble that I pity; these I’ve serv’d too, But few or none have ever observ’d me. Amongst this dissolute rout Candlemas-Day! I’m sorry to see him so ill associated. D. AL. Why, that’s his cause of coming, to complain Because Shrove-Tuesday this year dwells so near him; But ’tis his place, he cannot be remov’d.— You must be patient, Candlemas, and brook it.— This rabble, sir, Shrove-Tuesday, hungry Lent, Ill May-Day, Midsummer-Eve, and the First Dog-Day, Come to receive their places, due by custom, And that they build upon. N. YEAR. Give ’em their charge, And then admit ’em. D. AL. I will do’t in cone.[205]— Stand forth, Shrove-Tuesday, one a’ the silenc’st bricklayers; ’Tis in your charge to pull down bawdy-houses, To set your tribe a-work, cause spoil in Shoreditch, And make a dangerous leak there; deface Turnbull, And tickle Codpiece-Row; ruin the Cockpit;[206] The poor players never thriv’d in’t; a’ my conscience, Some quean piss’d upon the first brick.— For you, lean Lent, be sure you utter first Your rotten herrings, and keep up your best Till they be rotten, then there’s no deceit, When they be all alike.—You, Ill May-Day, Be as unruly a rascal as you may, To stir up deputy Double-diligence, That comes perking forth with halberts.— And for you, Midsummer-Eve, that watches warmest,[207] Be but sufficiently drunk, and you’re well harnest.— You, Dog-Day—— DOG-DAY. Wow! D. AL. A churlish, maundering[208] rogue! You must both beg and rob, curse and collogue;[209] In cooler nights the barn with doxies fill, In harvest lie in haycock with your gill.[210]— They have all their charge. N. YEAR. You have gi’n’t at the wrong end. D. AL. To bid ’em sin’s the way to make ’em mend, For what they are forbid they run to headlong; I ha’ cast their inclinations.—Now, your service To draw fresh blood into your master’s cheeks, slaves! [_Here the first dance and first Antimasque, by these six rude ones, who then exeunt._ _Exit_ TIME. N. YEAR. What scornful looks the abusive villains threw Upon the reverend form and face of Time! Methought it appear’d sorry, and went angry. D. AL. ’Tis still your servant.

_Enter, for the second Antimasque_,[211] THREE GOOD DAYS, THREE BAD DAYS, _and_ TWO INDIFFERENT DAYS.

N. YEAR. How now? what are these? D. AL. These are your Good Days and your Bad Days, sir; Those your Indifferent Days, nor good nor bad. N. YEAR. But is here all? D. AL. A wonder there’s so many, How these broke loose; every one stops their passage, And makes inquiry after ’em: This farmer will not cast his seed i’ the ground Before he look in Bretnor; there he finds Some word[212] which he hugs happily, as, _Ply the box_, _Make hay betimes_, _It falls into thy mouth_; A punctual lady will not paint, forsooth, Upon his critical days, ’twill not hold well; Nor a nice city-wedlock[213] eat fresh herring Nor periwinkles, Although she long for both, if the word be that day _Gape after gudgeons_, or some fishing phrase; A scrivener’s wife will not entreat the money-master, That lies i’ th’ house and gets her husband’s children, To furnish a poor gentleman’s extremes, If she find _Nihil in a bag_ that morning; And so of thousand follies: these suffice To shew you Good, Bad, and Indifferent Days; And all have their inscriptions—here’s _Cock-a-hoop_, This _The gear cottens_,[214] and this _Faint heart never_; These noted black for badness, _Rods in piss_, This _Post for puddings_, this _Put up thy pipes_; These black and white, indifferently inclining To both their natures, _Neither full nor fasting_, _In dock out nettle_.[215]—Now to your motion, Black knaves and white knaves, and you, parcel-rascals,[216] Two hypocritical, party-colour’d varlets, That play o’ both hands.

[_Here the second dance and last Antimasque by eight boys habited according to their former characters: the_ THREE GOOD DAYS _attired all in white garments sitting close to their bodies, their inscriptions on their breasts—on the first_ Cock-a-hoop, _on the second_ The gear cottens, _on the third_ Faint heart never: _The_ THREE BAD DAYS _all in black garments, their faces black, and their inscriptions—on the first_ Rods in piss, _on the second_ Post for puddings, _on the third_ Put up thy pipes: _The_ TWO INDIFFERENT DAYS _in garments half white, half black, their faces seamed with that party-colour, and their inscriptions—on the first_ Neither full nor fasting, _on the second_ In dock out nettle. _These having purchased a smile from the cheeks of many a beauty by their ridiculous figures, vanish, proud of that treasure._

D. AL. I see these pleasures of low births and natures Add little freshness to your cheeks; I pity you, And can no longer now conceal from you Your happy omen. Sir, blessings draw near you; I will disclose a secret in astrology, By the sweet industry of Harmony, Your white and glorious friend; Even very deities have conspir’d to grace Your fair inauguration; here I find it, ’Tis clear in art, The minute, nay, the point of time’s arriv’d, Methinks the blessings touch you; now they’re felt, sir.

[_At which loud music heard, the first cloud vanishing_, HARMONY _is discovered, with her sacred quire_.

_The First Song._ HAR. [_sings_] _New Year, New Year, hark, harken to me! I am sent down To crown Thy wishes with me: Thy fair desires in virtue’s court are fil’d; The goodness of thy thought This blessed work hath wrought, Time shall be reconcil’d. Thy spring shall in all sweets abound, Thy summer shall be clear and sound, Thy autumn swell the barn and loft With corn and fruits, ripe, sweet, and soft; And in thy winter, when all go, Thou shalt depart as white as snow._

[_Then a second cloud vanishing, the Masquers themselves are discovered, sitting in arches of clouds, being nine in number, heroes deified for their virtues: the song goes on._

_Behold, behold, hark, harken to me! Glory’s come down To crown Thy wishes with me: Bright heroes in lasting honour spher’d, Virtue’s eternal spring, By making Time their king, See, they’re beyond time rear’d; Yet, in their love to human good, In which estate themselves once stood, They all descend to have their worth Shine to imitation forth; And by their motion, light, and love, To shew how after-times should move._

[_Then the Masquers descending set to their first dance._

_The Second Song._ HAR. [_sings_] _Move on, move on, be still the same, You beauteous sons of brightness; You add to honour spirit and flame, To virtue grace and whiteness; You whose every little motion May learn strictness more devotion, Every pace of that high worth It treads a fair example forth, Quickens a virtue, makes a story To your own heroic glory; May your three-times-thrice blest number, Raise merit from his ancient slumber! Move on, move on, &c._

[_Then they order themselves for their second dance, after which_

_The Third Song._ HAR. [_sings_] _See, whither fate hath led you, lamps of honour, For goodness brings her own reward upon her; Look, turn your eyes, and then conclude commending, And say you’ve lost no worth by your descending; Behold, a heaven about you, spheres more plenty, There for one Luna here shines ten, and for one Venus twenty. Then, heroes, double both your fame and light, Each choose his star, and full adorn this night._

[_At which the Masquers make choice of their ladies and dance._ TIME _re-entering, thus closes all_. TIME. The morning gray Bids come away; Every lady should begin To take her chamber, for the stars are in. [_Then making his honour to the ladies._

Live long the miracles of times and years, Till with those heroes you sit fix’d in spheres!

THE WORLD TOST AT TENNIS.

_A Courtly Masque: The Deuice called, The World tost at Tennis. As it hath beene diuers times Presented to the Contentment of many Noble and Worthy Spectators: By the Prince his Seruants._

_Inuented and set_ {_Tho: Middleton_} _downe, By_ { & } _Gent._ {_William Rowley_}

_London printed by George Purslowe, and are to be sold at Christ_ ——. 4to.

In all the copies of this Masque which I have seen, a portion of the letter-press has been cut off from the bottom of the title-page by the binder. Langbaine (_Acc. of Engl. Dram. Poets_, p. 374) gives to it the date 1620: and so the _Biographia Dramatica_, which adds that it was entered on the book of the Stationers’ Company July 4, in that year.

THE EPISTLE DEDICATORY.

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TO THE TRULY NOBLE

CHARLES LORD HOWARD, BARON OF EFFINGHAM,

AND TO HIS VIRTUOUS AND WORTHY LADY

THE RIGHT HONOURABLE MARY LADY EFFINGHAM,

_Eldest Daughter of the truly generous and judicious_ SIR WILLIAM COCKAINE, _Knight, Lord Mayor of this City, and Lord General of the Military Forces_.

To whom more properly may art prefer Works of this nature, which are high and rare, Fit to delight a prince’s eye and ear, Than to the hands of such a worthy pair? Imagine this—mix’d with delight and state, Being then an entertainment for the best— Your noble nuptials comes to celebrate; And though it fall short of the day and feast Of your most sacred and united loves, Let none say therefore it untimely moves: It can, I hope, come out of season never To find your joys new—as at first, for ever.

Most respectfully devoted

To both your Honours,

THO. MIDDLETON.

_To the well-wishing, well-reading Understander,

well-understanding Reader_,

SIMPLICITY S.P.D.

After most hearty commendations, my kind and unknown friends, trusting in Phœbus your understandings are all in as good health as Simplicity’s was at the writing hereof; this is to certify you further, that this short and small treatise that follows, called a _Masque_, the device further intituled _The World tost at Tennis_—how it will be now tossed in the world, I know not—a toy brought to the press rather by the printer than the poet, who requested an epistle for his pass, to satisfy his perusers how hitherto he hath behaved himself. First, for his conception, he was begot in Brainford,[217] born on the bank-side of Helicon, brought up amongst noble gentle commons and good scholars of all sorts, where, for his time, he did good and honest service beyond the small seas: he was fair-spoken, never accused of scurrilous or obscene language, a virtue not ever found in scenes of the like condition; of as honest meaning reputed, as his words reported; neither too bitterly taxing, nor too soothingly telling, the world’s broad abuses; moderately merry, as sententiously serious; never condemned but for his brevity in speech, ever wishing his tale longer, to be assured he would continue to so good a purpose. Having all these handsome qualities simply, and no other compounded with knavery, there is great hope he shall pass still by the fair way of good report, persevering in those honest courses which may become the son of Simplicity, who, though he be now in a masque, yet is his face apparent enough. And so, loving cousins, having no news to send you at this time, but that Deceit is entering upon you, whom I pray you have a care to avoid; and this notice I can give you of him,—there are some six or eight pages before him, the Lawyer and the Devil behind him. In this care I leave you, not leaving to be

Your kind and loving kinsman, SIMPLICITY.

PROLOGUE.

This our device we do not call a play, Because we break the stage’s laws to-day Of acts and scenes: sometimes a comic strain Hath hit delight home in the master-vein, Thalia’s prize; Melpomene’s sad style Hath shook the tragic hand another while; The Muse of History hath caught your eyes, And she [that] chaunts the pastoral psalteries: We now lay claim to none, yet all present, Seeking out pleasure to find your content. You shall perceive, by what comes first in sight, It was intended for a royal night: There’s one hour’s words, the rest in songs and dances; Lauds no man’s own, no man himself advances, No man is lifted but by other hands; Say he could leap, he lights but where he stands: Such is our fate; if good, much good may’t do you! If not, sorry we’ll lose our labours wi’ you.

THE FIGURES AND PERSONS

PROPERLY RAISED FOR EMPLOYMENT THROUGH THE WHOLE MASQUE.

_First, three ancient and princely Receptacles_, RICHMOND, ST. JAMES’S, _and_ DENMARK-HOUSE.

_A Scholar._ │ PALLAS. _A Soldier._ │ JUPITER. _The Nine Worthies_ [_the Nine Muses_.]

_The first Song and first Dance._

TIME, _a plaintiff, but his grievances delivered courteously. The five Starches, White, Blue, Yellow, Green, and Red._

_The second Dance._

SIMPLICITY. │ _The Intermeddler._ DECEIT. │ _The Disguiser._

_The second Song._

_A King._ │ _A Sea-Captain._ _A Land-Captain._ │ _Mariners._

_The third Song and third Dance._

_The Flamen._ │ _The Lawyer._

_The fourth and last Dance, the Devil an intermixer._

THE

WORLD TOST AT TENNIS.

_An_ INDUCTION _to the Masque prepared for his Majesty’s Entertainment at Denmark-House_.

_Enter_ RICHMOND _and_ ST. JAMES’S.

ST. JAM. Why, Richmond, Richmond, why art so heavy? RICH. I have reason enough for that, good, sainted sister; am I not built with stone—fair, large, and free stone—some part covered with lead too? ST. JAM. All this is but a light-headed understanding now; I mean, why so melancholy? thou lookest mustily, methinks. RICH. Do I so? and yet I dwell in sweeter air than you, sweet St. James: how three days warming has spirited you! you have sometimes your vacations as other of your friends have, if you call yourself to mind. ST. JAM. Thou never sawest my new gallery and my tennis-court, Richmond. RICH. No, but I heard of it, and from whence it came too. ST. JAM. Why, from whence came it? RICH. Nay, lawfully derived, from the brick-kilns, as thou didst thyself. ST. JAM. Thou breedest crickets, I think, and that will serve for the anagram to a critic. Come, I know thy grief; Thou fear’st that our late rival, Denmark-House, Will take from our regard, and we shall want The noble presence of our princely master In his so frequent visitation, Which we were wont so fully to enjoy. RICH. And is not that a cause of sorrow then? ST. JAM. Rather a cause of joy, that we enjoy So fair a fellowship. Denmark! why, she’s A stately palace and majestical, Ever of courtly breeding, but of late Built up unto a royal height of state, Rounded with noble prospects; by her side The silver-footed Thamesis doth slide, As, though more faintly, Richmond, does by thee, Which I, denied to touch, can only see.

_Enter_ DENMARK-HOUSE.

RICH. Who’s this? ST. JAM. ’Tis she herself, i’faith; comes with A courteous brow. DEN.-H. Ye’re welcome, most nobly welcome! ST. JAM. Hark you now, Richmond; did not I tell thee ’twas A royal house? DEN.-H. Why, was there any doubt Of our kind gratulation? I am proud Only to be in fellowship with you, Co-mate and servant to so great a master. ST. JAM. That’s Richmond’s fear thou’lt rob us both, thou hast such an enticing face of thine own. DEN.-H. O let not that be any difference! When we do serve, let us be ready for’t, And call’d at his great pleasure; the round year In her circumferent arms will fold us all, And give us all employment seasonable. I am for colder hours, when the bleak air Bites with an icy tooth: when summer has sear’d, And autumn all discolour’d, laid all fallow, Pleasure taken house and dwells within doors, Then shall my towers smoke and comely shew: But when again the fresher morn appears, And the soft spring renews her velvet head, St. James’s take my blest inhabitants, For she can better entertain them then, In larger grounds,[218] in park, sports, and delights: Yet a third season,[219] with the western oars, Calls up to Richmond, when the high-heated year Is in her solsticy; then she affords More sweeter-breathing air, more bounds, more pleasures; The hounds’ loud music to the flying stag, The feather’d talenter[220] to the falling bird, The bowman’s twelve-score prick[221] even at the door, And to these I could add a hundred more. Then let not us strive which shall be his homes, But strive to give him welcome when he comes. RICH. By my troth, he shall be welcome to Richmond whensoever he comes. ST. JAM. And to St. James’s, i’faith, at midnight. DEN.-H. Meantime ’tis fit I give him welcome hither;— But first to you, my royal, royal’st guest,[222] And I could wish your banquet were a feast; Howe’er, your welcome is most bounteous, Which, I beseech you, take as gracious.— To you, my owner, master, and my lord, Let me the second unto you afford, And then from you to all; for it is you That gives indeed what I but seem to do. I was from ruin rais’d by a fair hand, A royal hand; in that state let me stand For ever now: to bounty I was bred, My cups full-brimm’d and my free tables spread To hundreds daily, even without my door; I had an open hand unto the poor, I know I shall so still; then shall their prayers Pass by the porter’s keys, climb up each stairs, And knit and joint my new re-edified frames, That I shall able be to keep your names Unto eternity: Denmark-House shall keep Her high name now till Time doth fall asleep And be no more. Meantime, welcome, welcome, Heartily welcome! but chiefly you, great sir; Whate’er lies in my power, command me all, As freely as you were at your Whitehall. [_Exeunt._

A COURTLY MASQUE, &c.

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