Part 5
MAC. Said I not true? doth not his passion speak Out of my divination? O my senses, Why lost you not your powers, and become Dull'd, if not deaded, with this spectacle? I know him, it is Sordido, the farmer, A boor, and brother to that swine was here. [ASIDE.
SORD. Excellent, excellent, excellent! as I would wish, as I would wish.
MAC. See how the strumpet fortune tickles him, And makes him swoon with laughter, O, O, O!
SORD. Ha, ha, ha! I will not sow my grounds this year. Let me see, what harvest shall we have? "June, July?"
MAC. What, is't a prognostication raps him so?
SORD. "The 20, 21, 22 days, rain and wind." O good, good! "the 23, and 24, rain and some wind," good! "the 25, rain," good still! "26, 27, 28, wind and some rain"; would it had been rain and some wind! well, 'tis good, when it can be no better. "29, inclining to rain": inclining to rain! that's not so good now: "30, and 31, wind and no rain": no rain! 'slid, stay: this is worse and worse: What says he of St. Swithin's? turn back, look, "saint Swithin's: no rain!"
MAC. O, here's a precious, dirty, damned rogue, That fats himself with expectation Of rotten weather, and unseason'd hours; And he is rich for it, an elder brother! His barns are full, his ricks and mows well trod, His garners crack with store! O, 'tis well; ha, ha, ha! A plague consume thee, and thy house!
SORD. O here, "St. Swithin's, the 15 day, variable weather, for the most part rain", good! "for the most part rain": why, it should rain forty days after, now, more or less, it was a rule held, afore I was able to hold a plough, and yet here are two days no rain; ha! it makes me muse. We'll see how the next month begins, if that be better. "August 1, 2, 3, and 4, days, rainy and blustering:" this is well now: "5, 6, 7, 8, and 9, rainy, with some thunder;" Ay marry, this is excellent; the other was false printed sure: "the 10 and 11, great store of rain"; O good, good, good, good, good! "the 12, 13, and 14 days, rain"; good still: "15, and 16, rain"; good still: "17 and 18, rain", good still: "19 and 20", good still, good still, good still, good still, good still! "21, some rain"; some rain! well, we must be patient, and attend the heaven's pleasure, would it were more though: "the 22, 23, great tempests of rain, thunder and lightning". O good again, past expectation good! I thank my blessed angel; never, never Laid I [a] penny better out than this, To purchase this dear book: not dear for price, And yet of me as dearly prized as life, Since in it is contain'd the very life, Blood, strength, and sinews, of my happiness. Blest be the hour wherein I bought this book; His studies happy that composed the book, And the man fortunate that sold the book! Sleep with this charm, and be as true to me, As I am joy'd and confident in thee [PUTS IT UP.
[ENTER A HIND, AND GIVES SORDIDO A PAPER TO READ. MAC. Ha, ha, ha! Is not this good? Is not pleasing this? Ha, ha, ha! God pardon me! ha, ha! Is't possible that such a spacious villain Should live, and not be plagued? or lies be hid Within the wrinkled bosom of the world, Where Heaven cannot see him? S'blood! methinks 'Tis rare, and strange, that he should breathe and walk, Feed with digestion, sleep, enjoy his health, And, like a boisterous whale swallowing the poor, Still swim in wealth and pleasure! is't not strange? Unless his house and skin were thunder proof, I wonder at it! Methinks, now, the hectic, Gout, leprosy, or some such loath'd disease, Might light upon him; of that fire from heaven Might fall upon his barns; or mice and rats Eat up his grain; or else that it might rot Within the hoary ricks, even as it stands: Methinks this might be well; and after all The devil might come and fetch him. Ay, 'tis true! Meantime he surfeits in prosperity, And thou, in envy of him, gnaw'st thyself: Peace, fool, get hence, and tell thy vexed spirit, Wealth in this age will scarcely look on merit. [RISES AND EXIT.
SORD. Who brought this same, sirrah?
HIND. Marry, sir, one of the justice's men; he says 'tis a precept, and all their hands be at it.
SORD. Ay, and the prints of them stick in my flesh, Deeper than in their letters: they have sent me Pills wrapt in paper here, that, should I take them, Would poison all the sweetness of my book, And turn my honey into hemlock juice. But I am wiser than to serve their precepts, Or follow their prescriptions. Here's a device, To charge me bring my grain unto the markets: Ay, much! when I have neither barn nor garner, Nor earth to hid it in, I'll bring 't; till then, Each corn I send shall be as big as Paul's. O, but (say some) the poor are like to starve. Why, let 'em starve, what's that to me? are bees Bound to keep life in drones and idle moths? no: Why such are these that term themselves the poor, Only because they would be pitied, But are indeed a sort of lazy beggars, Licentious rogues, and sturdy vagabonds, Bred by the sloth of a fat plenteous year, Like snakes in heat of summer, out of dung; And this is all that these cheap times are good for: Whereas a wholesome and penurious dearth Purges the soil of such vile excrements, And kills the vipers up.
HIND. O, but master, Take heed they hear you not.
SORD. Why so?
HIND. They will exclaim against you.
SORD. Ay, their exclaims Move me as much, as thy breath moves a mountain. Poor worms, they hiss at me, whilst I at home Can be contented to applaud myself, To sit and clap my hands, and laugh, and leap, Knocking my head against my roof, with joy To see how plump my bags are, and my barns. Sirrah, go hie you home, and bid your fellows Get all their flails ready again I come.
HIND. I will, sir. [EXIT.
SORD. I'll instantly set all my hinds to thrashing Of a whole rick of corn, which I will hide Under the ground; and with the straw thereof I'll stuff the outsides of my other mows: That done, I'll have them empty all my garners, And in the friendly earth bury my store, That, when the searchers come, they may suppose All's spent, and that my fortunes were belied. And to lend more opinion to my want, And stop that many-mouthed vulgar dog, Which else would still be baying at my door, Each market-day I will be seen to buy Part of the purest wheat, as for my household; Where when it comes, it shall increase my heaps: 'Twill yield me treble gain at this dear time, Promised in this dear book: I have cast all. Till then I will not sell an ear, I'll hang first. O, I shall make my prices as I list; My house and I can feed on peas and barley. What though a world of wretches starve the while; He that will thrive must think no courses vile. [EXIT.
COR. Now, signior, how approve you this? have the humourists exprest themselves truly or no?
MIT. Yes, if it be well prosecuted, 'tis hitherto happy enough: but methinks Macilente went hence too soon; he might have been made to stay, and speak somewhat in reproof of Sordido's wretchedness now at the last.
COR. O, no, that had been extremely improper; besides, he had continued the scene too long with him, as 'twas, being in no more action.
MIT. You may inforce the length as a necessary reason; but for propriety, the scene wou'd very well have borne it, in my judgment.
COR. O, worst of both; why, you mistake his humour utterly then.
MIT. How do I mistake it? Is it not envy?
COR. Yes, but you must understand, signior, he envies him not as he is a villain, a wolf in the commonwealth, but as he is rich and fortunate; for the true condition of envy is, 'dolor alienae felicitatis', to have our eyes continually fixed upon another man's prosperity that is, his chief happiness, and to grieve at that. Whereas, if we make his monstrous and abhorr'd actions our object, the grief we take then comes nearer the nature of hate than envy, as being bred out of a kind of contempt and loathing in ourselves.
MIT. So you'll infer it had been hate, not envy in him, to reprehend the humour of Sordido?
COR. Right, for what a man truly envies in another, he could always love and cherish in himself; but no man truly reprehends in another, what he loves in himself; therefore reprehension is out of his hate. And this distinction hath he himself made in a speech there, if you marked it, where he says, "I envy not this Buffone, but I hate him." Why might he not as well have hated Sordido as him?
COR. No, sir, there was subject for his envy in Sordido, his wealth: so was there not in the other. He stood possest of no one eminent gift, but a most odious and fiend-like disposition, that would turn charity itself into hate, much more envy, for the present.
MIT. You have satisfied me, sir. O, here comes the fool, and the jester again, methinks.
COR. 'Twere pity they should be parted, sir.
MIT. What bright-shining gallant's that with them? the knight they went to?
COR. No, sir, this is one monsieur Fastidious Brisk, otherwise called the fresh Frenchified courtier.
MIT. A humourist too?
COR. As humorous as quicksilver; do but observe him; the scene is the country still, remember.
ACT II
SCENE I. -- THE COUNTRY; BEFORE PUNTARVOLO'S HOUSE.
ENTER FASTIDIOUS BRISK, CINEDO, CARLO BUFFONE, AND SOGLIARDO.
FAST. Cinedo, watch when the knight comes, and give us word.
CIN. I will, sir. [EXIT.
FAST. How lik'st thou my boy, Carlo?
CAR. O, well, well. He looks like a colonel of the Pigmies horse, or one of these motions in a great antique clock; he would shew well upon a haberdasher's stall, at a corner shop, rarely.
FAST. 'Sheart, what a damn'd witty rogue's this! How he confounds with his similes!
CAR. Better with similes than smiles: and whither were you riding now, signior?
FAST. Who, I? What a silly jest's that! Whither should I ride but to the court?
CAR. O, pardon me, sir, twenty places more; your hot-house, or your whore-house --
FAST. By the virtue of my soul, this knight dwells in Elysium here.
CAR. He's gone now, I thought he would fly out presently. These be our nimble-spirited catsos, that have their evasions at pleasure, will run over a bog like your wild Irish; no sooner started, but they'll leap from one thing to another, like a squirrel, heigh! dance and do tricks in their discourse, from fire to water, from water to air, from air to earth, as if their tongues did but e'en lick the four elements over, and away.
FAST. Sirrah, Carlo, thou never saw'st my gray hobby yet, didst thou?
CAR. No; have you such a one?
FAST. The best in Europe, my good villain, thou'lt say when thou seest him.
CAR. But when shall I see him?
FAST. There was a nobleman in the court offered me a hundred pound for him, by this light: a fine little fiery slave, he runs like a -- oh, excellent, excellent! -- with the very sound of the spur.
CAR. How! the sound of the spur?
FAST. O, it's your only humour now extant, sir; a good gingle, a good gingle.
CAR. S'blood! you shall see him turn morrice-dancer, he has got him bells, a good suit, and a hobby-horse.
SIG. Signior, now you talk of a hobby-horse, I know where one is will not be given for a brace of angels.
FAST. How is that, sir?
SOG. Marry, sir, I am telling this gentleman of a hobby-horse; it was my father's indeed, and though I say it --
CAR. That should not say it -- on, on.
SOG. He did dance in it, with as good humour and as good regard as any man of his degree whatsoever, being no gentleman: I have danc'd in it myself too.
CAR. Not since the humour of gentility was upon you, did you?
SOG. Yes, once; marry, that was but to shew what a gentleman might do in a humour.
CAR. O, very good.
MIT. Why, this fellow's discourse were nothing but for the word humour.
COR. O bear with him; an he should lack matter and words too, 'twere pitiful.
SOG. Nay, look you, sir, there's ne'er a gentleman in the country has the like humours, for the hobby-horse, as I have; I have the method for the threading of the needle and all, the --
CAR. How, the method?
SOG. Ay, the leigerity for that, and the whighhie, and the daggers in the nose, and the travels of the egg from finger to finger, and all the humours incident to the quality. The horse hangs at home in my parlour. I'll keep it for a monument as long as I live, sure.
CAR. Do so; and when you die, 'twill be an excellent trophy to hang over your tomb.
SOG. Mass, and I'll have a tomb, now I think on't; 'tis but so much charges.
CAR. Best build it in your lifetime then, your heirs may hap to forget it else.
SOG. Nay, I mean so, I'll not trust to them.
CAR. No, for heirs and executors are grown damnable careless, 'specially since the ghosts of testators left walking. -- How like you him, signior?
FAST. 'Fore heavens, his humour arrides me exceedingly.
CAR. Arrides you!
FAST. Ay, pleases me: a pox on't! I am so haunted at the court, and at my lodging, with your refined choice spirits, that it makes me clean of another garb, another sheaf, I know not how! I cannot frame me to your harsh vulgar phrase, 'tis against my genius.
Sog. Signior Carlo! [TAKES HIM ASIDE.
COR. This is right to that of Horace, "Dum vitant stulti vitia, in contraria currunt"; so this gallant labouring to avoid popularity, falls into a habit of affectation, ten thousand times hatefuller than the former.
CAR. [POINTING TO FASTIDIOUS.] Who, he? a gull, a fool, no salt in him i' the earth, man; he looks like a fresh salmon kept in a tub; he'll be spent shortly. His brain's lighter than his feather already, and his tongue more subject to lye, than that is to wag; he sleeps with a musk-cat every night, and walks all day hang'd in pomander chains for penance; he has his skin tann'd in civet, to make his complexion strong, and the sweetness of his youth lasting in the sense of his sweet lady; a good empty puff, he loves you well, signior.
SOG. There shall be no love lost, sir, I'll assure you.
FAST. [ADVANCING TO THEM.] Nay, Carlo, I am not happy in thy love, I see: pray thee suffer me to enjoy thy company a little, sweet mischief: by this air, I shall envy this gentleman's place in thy affections, if you be thus private, i'faith. ENTER CINEDO. How now! Is the knight arrived?
CIN. No, sir, but 'tis guess'd he will arrive presently, by his fore-runners.
FAST. His hounds! by Minerva, an excellent figure; a good boy.
CAR. You should give him a French crown for it; the boy would find two better figures in that, and a good figure of your bounty beside.
FAST. Tut, the boy wants no crowns.
CAR. No crown; speak in the singular number, and we'll believe you.
FAST. Nay, thou are so capriciously conceited now. Sirrah damnation, I have heard this knight Puntarvolo reported to be a gentleman of exceeding good humour, thou know'st him; prithee, how is his disposition? I never was so favoured of my stars, as to see him yet. Boy, do you look to the hobby?
CIN. Ay, sir, the groom has set him up. [AS CINEDO IS GOING OUT, SOGLIARDO TAKES HIM ASIDE.
FAST. 'Tis well: I rid out of my way of intent to visit him, and take knowledge of his -- Nay, good Wickedness, his humour, his humour.
CAR. Why, he loves dogs, and hawks, and his wife well; he has a good riding face, and he can sit a great horse; he will taint a staff well at tile; when he is mounted he looks like the sign of the George, that's all I know; save, that instead of a dragon, he will brandish against a tree, and break his sword as confidently upon the knotty bark, as the other did upon the scales of the beast.
FAST. O, but this is nothing to that's delivered of him. They say he has dialogues and discourses between his horse, himself, and his dog; and that he will court his own lady, as she were a stranger never encounter'd before.
CAR. Ay, that he will, and make fresh love to her every morning; this gentleman has been a spectator of it, Signior Insulso.
SOG. I am resolute to keep a page. -- Say you, sir? [LEAPS FROM WHISPERING WITH CINEDO.
CAR. You have seen Signior Puntarvolo accost his lady?
SOG. O, ay, sir.
FAST. And how is the manner of it, prithee, good signior?
SOG. Faith, sir, in very good sort; he has his humours for it, sir; at first, (suppose he were now to come from riding or hunting, or so,) he has his trumpet to sound, and then the waiting-gentlewoman she looks out, and then he speaks, and then she speaks, -- very pretty, i'faith, gentlemen.
FAST. Why, but do you remember no particulars, signior?
SOG. O, yes, sir, first, the gentlewoman, she looks out at the window.
CAR. After the trumpet has summon'd a parle, not before?
SOG. No, sir, not before; and then says he, -- ha, ha, ha, ha!
CAR. What says he? be not rapt so.
SOG. Says he, -- ha, ha, ha, ha!
FAST. Nay, speak, speak.
SOG. Ha, ha, ha! -- says he, God save you, says he; -- ha, ha!
CAR. Was this the ridiculous motive to all this passion?
SOG. Nay, that that comes after is, -- ha, ha, ha, ha!
CAR. Doubtless he apprehends more than he utters, this fellow; or else -- [A CRY OF HOUNDS WITHIN.
SOG. List, list, they are come from hunting; stand by, close under this terras, and you shall see it done better than I can show it.
CAR. So it had need, 'twill scarce poise the observation else.
SOG. Faith, I remember all, but the manner of it is quite out of my head.
FAST. O, withdraw, withdraw, it cannot be but a most pleasing object. [THEY STAND ASIDE.
ENTER PUNTARVOLO, FOLLOWED BY HIS HUNTSMAN LEADING A GREYHOUND. PUNT. Forester, give wind to thy horn. -- Enough; by this the sound hath touch'd the ears of the inclos'd: depart, leave the dog, and take with thee what thou has deserved, the horn and thanks. [EXIT HUNTSMAN.
CAR. Ay, marry, there is some taste in this.
FAST. Is't not good?
SOG. Ah, peace; now above, now above! [A WAITING-GENTLEWOMAN APPEARS AT THE WINDOW.
PUNT. Stay; mine eye hath, on the instant, through the bounty of the window, received the form of a nymph. I will step forward three paces; of the which, I will barely retire one; and, after some little flexure of the knee, with an erected grace salute her; one, two, and three! Sweet lady, God save you!
GENT. [ABOVE.] No, forsooth; I am but the waiting-gentlewoman.
CAR. He knew that before.
PUNT. Pardon me: 'humanum est errare'.
CAR. He learn'd that of his chaplain.
PUNT. To the perfection of compliment (which is the dial of the thought, and guided by the sun of your beauties,) are required these three specials; the gnomon, the puntilios, and the superficies: the superficies is that we call place; the puntilios, circumstance; and the gnomon, ceremony; in either of which, for a stranger to err, 'tis easy and facile; and such am I.
CAR. True, not knowing her horizon, he must needs err; which I fear he knows too well.
PUNT. What call you the lord of the castle, sweet face?
GENT. [ABOVE.] The lord of the castle is a knight, sir; signior Puntarvolo.
PUNT. Puntarvolo! O --
CAR. Now must he ruminate.
FAST. Does the wench know him all this while, then?
CAR. O, do you know me, man? why, therein lies the syrup of the jest; it's a project, a designment of his own, a thing studied, and rehearst as ordinarily at his coming from hawking or hunting, as a jig after a play.
SOG. Ay, e'en like your jig, sir.
PUNT. 'Tis a most sumptuous and stately edifice! Of what years is the knight, fair damsel?
GENT. Faith, much about your years, sir.
PUNT. What complexion, or what stature bears he?
GENT. Of your stature, and very near upon your complexion.
PUNT. Mine is melancholy, --
CAR. So is the dog's, just.
PUNT. And doth argue constancy, chiefly in love. What are his endowments? is he courteous?
GENT. O, the most courteous knight in Christian land, sir.
PUNT. Is he magnanimous?
GENT. As the skin between your brows, sir.
PUNT. Is he bountiful?
CAR. 'Slud, he takes an inventory of his own good parts.
GENT. Bountiful! ay, sir, I would you should know it; the poor are served at his gate, early and late, sir.
PUNT. Is he learned?
GENT. O, ay, sir, he can speak the French and Italian.
PUNT. Then he has travelled?
GENT. Ay, forsooth, he hath been beyond seas once or twice.
CAR. As far as Paris, to fetch over a fashion, and come back again.
PUNT. Is he religious?
GENT. Religious! I know not what you call religious, but he goes to church, I am sure.
FAST. 'Slid, methinks these answers should offend him.
CAR. Tut, no; he knows they are excellent, and to her capacity that speaks them.
PUNT. Would I might but see his face!
CAR. She should let down a glass from the window at that word, and request him to look in't.
PUNT. Doubtless the gentleman is most exact, and absolutely qualified; doth the castle contain him?
GENT. No, sir, he is from home, but his lady is within.
PUNT. His lady! what, is she fair, splendidious, and amiable?
GENT. O, Lord, sir.
PUNT. Prithee, dear nymph, intreat her beauties to shine on this side of the building. [EXIT WAITING-GENTLEWOMAN FROM THE WINDOW.
CAR. That he may erect a new dial of compliment, with his gnomons and his puntilios.
FAST. Nay, thou art such another cynic now, a man had need walk uprightly before thee.
CAR. Heart, can any man walk more upright than he does? Look, look; as if he went in a frame, or had a suit of wainscot on: and the dog watching him, lest he should leap out on't.
FAST. O, villain!
CAR. Well, an e'er I meet him in the city, I'll have him jointed, I'll pawn him in Eastcheap, among the butchers, else.
FAST. Peace; who be these, Carlo?
ENTER SORDIDO AND FUNGOSO.
SORD. Yonder's your godfather; do your duty to him, son.
SOG. This, sir? a poor elder brother of mine, sir, a yeoman, may dispend some seven or eight hundred a year; that's his son, my nephew, there.