piter's sake, sit, sir; or please you walk into the garden? There's a garden on the back-side. Crisp. I am most strenuously well, I thank you, sir. Alb. Much good do you, sir. Enter CHLOE, with two Maids. Chloe. Come, bring those perfumes forward a little, and strew some roses and violets here: Fie! here be rooms savor the most pitifully rank that ever I felt. I cry the gods mercy, [sees ALBIUS,] my husband's in the wind of us! Ab. Why, this is good, excellent, excellent! well said, my sweet Chloe; trim up your house most obsequiously. Chloe. For Vulcan's sake, breathe somewhere else in troth, you overcome our perfumes exccedingly; you are too predominant. Alb. Hear but my opinion, sweet wife. Chloe. A pin for your pinion! In sincerity, if you be thus fulsome to me in every thing, I'll be divorced. Gods my body! you know what you were before I married you; I was a gentlewoman born, I; I lost all my friends to be a citizen's wife, because I heard, indeed, they kept their wives as fine as ladies; and that we might rule our husbands like ladies, and do what we listed; do you think I would have married you else? Alb. I acknowledge, sweet wife: she speaks the best of any woman in Italy, and moves as mightily; which makes me, I had rather she should make bumps on my head, as big as my two fingers, than I would offend her. But, sweet wife Chloe. Yet again! Is it not grace enough for you, that I call you husband, and you call me wife; but you must still be poking me, against my will, to things? Alb. But you know, wife, here are the greatest ladies, and gallantest gentlemen of Rome, to be entertained in our house now; and I would fain advise thee to entertain them in the best sort, i'faith, wife. Chloe. In sincerity, did you ever hear a man talk so idly? You would seem to be master! you would have your spoke in my cart! you would advise me to entertain ladies and gentlemen! Because you can marshal your pack-needles, horse-combs, hobby-horses, and wall-candlesticks in your warehouse better than I, therefore you can tell how to entertain ladies and gentlefolks better than I? Alb. O, my sweet wife, upbraid me not with that; gain savors sweetly from any thing; he that respects to get, must relish all commodities alike, and admit no difference between oade and frankincense, or the most precious balsamum and a tar-barrel. Chloe. Marry, foh! you sell snuffers too, if you be remember'd; but I pray you let me buy them out of your hand; for, I tell you true, I take it highly in snuff, to learn how to entertain gentlefolks of you, at these years, i'faith. Alas, man, there was not a gentleman came to your house in your t'other wife's time, I hope! nor a lady, nor music, nor masques! Nor you nor your house were so much as spoken of, before I disbased myself, from my hood and my farthingal, to these um-rowls and your whale-bone bodice. Alb. Look here, my sweet wife; I am mum, my dear mummia, my balsamum, my spermaceti, and my very city of- She has the most best, true, feminine wit in Rome ! Cris. I have heard so, sir; and do most ve hemently desire to participate the knowledge of her fair features. Alb. Ah, peace; you shall hear more anon: be not seen yet, I pray you; not yet: observe. [Exit. Chloe. 'Sbody! give husbands the head a little more, and they'll be nothing but head shortly: What's he there? 1 Maid. I know not, forsooth. 2 Maid. Who would you speak with, sir? Cris. I would speak with my cousin Cytheris. 2 Maid. He is one, forsooth, would speak with his cousin Cytheris. Chloe. Is she your cousin, sir? Cris. [coming forward.] Yes, in truth, forsooth, for fault of a better. Chloe. She is a gentlewoman. Cris. Or else she should not be my cousin, I assure you. Chloe. Are you a gentleman born? Cris. That I am, lady; you shall see mine arms, if it please you. Chloe. No, your legs do sufficiently shew you are a gentleman born, sir; for a man borne upon little legs, is always a gentleman born. Cris. Yet, I pray you, vouchsafe the sight of my arms, mistress; for I bear them about me, to have them seen: My name is Crispinus, or Crispinas indeed; which is well expressed in my arms; a face crying in chief; and beneath it a bloody toe, between three thorns pungent. Chloe. Then you are welcome, sir: now you are a gentleman born, I can find in my heart to welcome you; for I am a gentlewoman born too, and will bear my head high enough, though 'twere my fortune to marry a tradesman. Cris. No doubt of that, sweet feature; your carriage shews it in any man's eye, that is carried upon you with judgment. Re-enter ALBIUS. Alb. Dear wife, be not angry, Chloe. Gods my passion! Alb. Hear me but one thing; let not your maids set cushions in the parlor windows, nor in the dining-chamber windows; nor upon stools, in either of them, in any case; for 'tis tavern-like: but lay them one upon another, in some outroom or corner of the dining-chamber. Chloe. Go, go; meddle with your bed-chamber only; or rather with your bed in your chamber only; or rather with your wife in your bed only; or on my faith I'll not be pleased with you only. Alb. Look here, my dear wife, entertain that gentleman kindly, I prithee mum. [Exit. Chloe. Go, I need your instructions indeed! anger me no more, I advise you. Citi-sin, quotha! she's a wise gentlewoman, i'faith, will marry herself to the sin of the city. Alb. [re-entering.] But this time, and no more, by heav'n, wife: hang no pictures in the hall, nor in the dining-chamber, in any case, but in the gallery only; for 'tis not courtly else, o' my word, wife. Chloe. 'Sprecious, never have done! [Exit. Chloe. Do I not bear a reasonable corrigible nand over him, Crispinus? Cris. By this hand, lady, you hold a most 3 weet hand over him. Alb. [re-entering.] And then, for the great gilt andirons. Chloe. Again! Would the andirons were in your great guts for me! Alb. I do vanish, wife. [Exit. Chloe. How shall I do, master Crispinus? here will be all the bravest ladies in court presently to see your cousin Cytheris: O the gods! how might I behave myself now, as to entertain them most courtly? Cris. Marry, lady, if you will entertain them most courtly, you must do thus: as soon as ever your maid or your man brings you word they are come, you must say, A pox on 'em! what do they here? And yet, when they come, speak them as fair, and give them the kindest welcome in words that can be. Chloe. Is that the fashion of courtiers, Crispinus ? Cris. I assure you it is, lady; I have observed it. Chloe. For your pox, sir, it is easily hit on; but it is not so easy to speak fair after, methinks. Alb. [re-entering.] O wife, the coaches are come, on my word; a number of coaches and courtiers. Chloe. A pox on them! what do they here? Alb. How now, wife! would'st thou not have them come? Chloe. Come! come, you are a fool, you. He knows not the trick on't. Call Cytheris, I pray you and, good master Crispinus, you can observe, you say; let me entreat you for all the ladies' behaviors, jewels, jests, and attires, that you marking, as well as I, we may put both our inarks together, when they are gone, and confer of them. Cyth. I pardon and praise you for it, sir; and I beseech your excellence, receive her beauties into your knowledge and favor. Jul. Cytheris, she hath favor and behavior. that commands as much of me: and, sweet Chloe, know I do exceedingly love you, and that I will approve in any grace my father the emperor may shew you. Is this your husband? Alb. For fault of a better, if it please you1 highness. Chloe. Gods my life, how he shames mo! Cyth. Not a whit, Chloe, they all think you politic and witty; wise women choose not husbands for the eye, merit, or birth, but wealth and sovereignty. Ovid. Sir, we all come to gratulate, for the good report of you. Tib. And would be glad to deserve your love, sir. Alb. My wife will answer you all, gentlemen; I'll come to you presently. [Exit. Plau. You have chosen you a most fair companion here, Cytheris, and a very fair house. Cyth. To both which, you and all my friends are very welcome, Plautia. Chloe. With all my heart, I assure your ladyship. Plau. Thanks, sweet mistress Chloe. Jul. You must needs come to court, lady, i'faith, and there be sure your welcome shall be as great to us. Ovid. She will deserve it, madam; I see, even in her looks, gentry, and general worthiness. Tib. I have not seen a more certain character of an excellent disposition., Alb. [re-entering.] Wife! Chloe. O, they do so commend me here, the courtiers! what's the matter now? Alb. For the banquet, sweet wife. Chloe. Yes; and I must needs come to court, and be welcome, the princess says. [Exit with ALBIUS. Gal. Ovid and Tibullus, you may be bold to welcome your mistress here. Ovid. We find it so, sir. Tib. And thank Cornelius Gallus. Ovid. Nay, my sweet Sextus, in faith thou art not sociable. [not. Prop. In faith I am not, Publius; nor I canSick minds are like sick men that burn with fevers, [taste, Who when they drink, please but a present And after bear a more impatient fit. Pray let me leave you; I offend you all, And myself most. [and fate Gal. Stay, sweet Propertius. Tib. You yield too much unto your griefs Which never hurts, but when we say it hurts us. Prop. O peace, Tibullus; your philosophy Lends you too rough a hand to search my wounds. [grieve: Speak they of griefs, that know to sigh and The free and unconstrained spirit feels No weight of my oppression. [Exit. Ovid. Worthy Roman! Methinks I taste his misery, and could Sit down, and chide at his malignant stars. Jul. Methinks I love him, that he loves sa truly. Cris. Ay, they are poets, lady. Chloe. Poets! they did not talk of me since I went, did they? Cris. O yes, and extolled your perfections to the heavens. Chloe. Now in sincerity they be the finest kind of men that ever I knew: Poets! Could not one get the emperor to make my husband a poet, think you? Cris. No, lady, 'tis love and beauty make poets and since you like poets so well, your love and beauties shall make me a poet. Chloe. What! shall they and such a one as these? Cris. Ay, and a better than these: I would be sorry else. Chloe. And shall your looks change, and your hair change, and all, like these? Cris. Why, a man may be a poct, and yet not change his hair, lady. Chloe. Well, we shall see your cunning: yet, if you can change your hair, I pray do. Re-enter ALBIUS. Alb. Ladies, and lordlings, there's a slight banquet stays within for you; please you draw near, and accost it. Jul. We thank you, good Albius: but when shall we see those excellent jewels you are commended to have? Alb. At your ladyship's service. I got that speech by seeing a play last day, and it did me some grace now: I see, 'tis good to collect sometimes; I'll frequent these plays more than I have done, now I come to be familiar with courtiers. [Aside. Gal. Why, how now, Hermogenes? what ailest thou, trow? Her. A little melancholy; let me alone, prithee. Gal. Melancholy how so? Her. With riding: a plague on all coaches for me! Chloe. Is that hard-favor'd gentleman a poet too, Cytheris ? Cyth. No, this is Hermogenes: as humorous as a poet, though: he is a musician. Chloe. A musician! then he can sing. Cyth. That he can, excellently; did you rever hear him? Chloe. Ono: will he be entreated, think you? Cyth. I know not. - Friend, mistress Chloe would fain hear Hermogenes sing: are you interested in him? Gal. No doubt, his own humanity will command him so far, to the satisfaction of so fair a beauty; but rather than fail, we'll all be suitors o him. Hr. Cannot sing. Her. Cannot sing. Gal. No, the ladies must do it; he strays but to have their thanks acknowledged as a debt to his cunning. Jul. That shall not want; ourself will be the first shall promise to pay him more than thanks, upon a favor so worthily vouchsafed. Her. Thank you, madam; but will not sing. Tib. Tut, the only way to win him, is to ab stain from entreating him. Cris. Do you love singing, lady? Cris. Entreat the ladies to entreat me to si then, I beseech you. Chloe. I beseech your grace, entreat this gentleman to sing. Jul. That we will, Chloe; can he sing excellently? Chloe. I think so, madam; for he entreated me to entreat you to entreat him to sing. Cris. Heaven and earth! would you tell that? Jul. Good, sir, let's entreat you to use your voice. Cris. Alas, madam, I cannot, in truth. Pla. The gentleman is modest: I warran you he sings excellently. Ovid. Hermogenes, clear your throat: I see by him, here's a gentleman will worthily challenge you. Cris. Not I, sir, I'll challenge no man. Tib. That's your modesty, sir; but we, out of an assurance of your excellency, challenge him in your behalf. Cris. I thank you, gentlemen, I'll do my best. Her. Let that best be good, sir, you were best. Gal. O, this contention is excellent! What is't you sing, sir? Cris. If I freely may discover, sir; I'll sing that. Ovid. One of your own compositions, Hermogenes. He offers you vantage enough. Cris. Nay, truly, gentlemen, I'll challenge no man. I can sing but one staff of the ditty, neither. Gal. The better: Hermogenes himself will be entreated to sing the other. CRISPINUS sings. If I freely may discover All extremes I would have barr'd. Gal. Believe me, sir, you sing most excellently. Ovid. If there were a praise above excellence. the gentleman highly deserves it Her. Sir, all this doth not yet make me envy you; for I know I sing better than you. Tib. Attend Hermogenes, now. HERMOGENES, accompanied. She should be allow'd her passions, Jul. Nay, Hermogenes, your merit hath long since been both known and admired of us. Her. You shall hear me sing another. will I begin. Now Gal. We shall do this gentleman's banquet too much wrong, that stays for us, ladies. Jul. "Tis true; and well thought on, Cornelius Gallus. Her. Why, 'tis but a short air, 'twill be done presently, pray stay: strike, music. Ovid. No, good Hermogenes; we'll end this difference within. Jul. 'Tis the common disease of all your mu Ficians, that they know no mean, to be entreated either to begin or end. Alb. Please you lead the way, gentles. [Exeunt all but ALBIUS. Alb. O, what a charm of thanks was here put upon me! O Jovc, what a setting forth it is to a man to have many courtiers come to his house! Sweetly was it said of a good old housekeeper, I had rather want meat, than want guests; especially, if they be courtly guests. For, never trust me, if one of their good legs made in a house be not worth all the good cheer a man can make them. He that would have fine guests, let him have a fine wife! he that would have a fine wife, let him come to me. Re-enter CRISPINUS. Cris. By your kind leave, master Albius. Alb. What, you are not gone, master Crispinus? Cris. Yes, faith, I have a design draws me hence: pray, sir, fashion me an excuse to the ladies. Alb. Will you not stay and see the jewels, sir? I pray you stay. Cris. Not for a million, sir, now. Let it suffice, I must relinquish; and so, in a word, please you to expiate this compliment. Alb. Mum. [Exit. Cris. I'll presently go and enghle some broker for a poet's gown, and bespeak a garland: and then, jeweller, look to your best jewel, [Exit. i'faith. Cris. 'Slid, yonder's Horace! they say Le' an excellent poet: Mecænas loves him. I'll fall into his acquaintance, if I can; I think he be composing as he goes in the street! ha! 'tis a good humor, if he be: I'll compose too. Hor. Swell me a bowl with lusty wine, Till I may see the plump Lyæus swim Above the brim: I drink as I would write, In flowing measure fill'd with flame and sprite. Cris. Sweet Horace, Minerva and the Muses stand auspicious to thy designs! How farest thou, sweet man? frolic? rich gallant? ha! Hor. Not greatly gallant, sir; like my for. tunes, well: I am bold to take my leave, sir; you'll nought else, sir, would you? know us, Horace; we are a scholar, I assure thee. Cris. Troth, no, but I could wish thou didst Hor. A scholar, sir! I shall be covetous of your fair knowledge. Cris. Gramercy, good Horace. Nay, we are new turn'd poet too, which is more; and a satin thy vein, I. I am for your odes, or your seririst too, which is more than that: I write just mons, or any thing indeed; we are a gentleman besides; our name is Rufus Laberius Crispinus; we are a pretty Stoic too. Hor. To the proportion of your beard, I think it, sir. Cris. By Phoebus, here's a most neat, fine oured of this street now, more than of half the street, is't not? I protest to thee, I am enamstreets of Rome again; 'tis so polite and terse ! chitecture too: if ever I should build, I'd have there's the front of a building now! I study ara house just of that prospective. Hor. Doubtless, this gallant's tongue has a good turn, when he sleeps. [Aside. Cris. I do make verses, when I come in such a street as this: O, your city ladies, you shall have them sit in every shop like the Muses offering you the Castalian dews, and the Thes pian liquors, to as many as have but the sweet grace and audacity to sip of their lips. Did you never hear any of my verses? Hor. No, sir; but I am in some fear I must [Aside. Cris. I'll tell thee some, if I can but recover them, I composed even now of a dressing I saw a jeweller's wife wear, who indeed was a jewel herself: I prefer that kind of tire now; what's thy opinion, Horace? now. - Hor. With your silver bodkin, it does well, sir. Cris. I cannot tell; but it stirs me more than all your court-curls, or your spangles, or your tricks: I affect not these high gable-ends, these Tuscan tops, nor your coronets, nor your arches, nor your pyramids; give me a fine, sweet-little delicate dressing with a bodkin, as you say; and a mushroom for all your other ornatures! Hor. Is it not possible to make an escape from him? Aside. Cris. I have remitted my verses all this while; I think I have forgot them. Hor. Here's he could wish you had else. Hor. You put your memory to too much trouble, sir. Cris. No, sweet Horace, we must not have thee think so. Hor. I cry you mercy; then they are my ears That must be tortured: well, you must have patience, ears. Cris. Pray thee, Horace, observe. Hor. Yes, sir; your satin sleeve begins to fret at the rug that is underneath it, I do observe and your ample velvet bases are not without evident stains of a hot disposition naturally. Cris. O I'll dye them into another color, at pleasure: How many yards of velvet dost thou think they contain? Hor. 'Heart! I have put him now in a fresh way To vex me more:-faith, sir, your mercer's book Will tell you with more patience than I can: For I am crost, and so's not that, I think. Cris. 'Slight, these verses have lost me again! I shall not invite them to mind, now. Hor. Rack not your thoughts, good sir; rather defer it To a new time: I'll meet you at your lodging, Or where you please: 'till then, Jove keep you, sir! Cris. Nay, gentle Horace, stay; I have it now. Hor. Yes, sir. Apollo, Hermes, Jupiter, Look down upon me! Cris. Rich was thy hap, sweet dainty cap, There to be placed; [Aside. Where thy smooth black, sleek white may smack, And both be graced. White is there usurp'd for her brow; her forehead and then sleek, as the parallel to smooth, that went before. A kind of paranomasie, or agnomination: do you conceive, sir? Hor. Excellent. Troth, sir, I must be abrupt, and leave you. Cris. Why, what haste hast thou? prithee, stay a little; thou shalt not go yet, by Phoebus. Hǝr. I shall not! what remedy? fie, how I sweat with suffering! Cris. And then Hor. Pray, sir, give me leave to wipe my face a little. Cris. Yes, do, good Horace. Hor. Thank you, sir. Death! I must crave his leave to p- anon; And rank and tedious fool! and have flung jests [Aside. Cris. Horace, thou art miserably affected to be gone, I see. But - prithee let's prove to enjoy thee a while. Thou hast no business, I ssure me. Whither is thy journey directed, ha ? Hor. Sir, I am going to visit a friend that's sick. Cris. A friend! what is he; do not I know him? Hor. No, sir, you do not know him; and 'tis not the worse for him. Cris. What's his name? where is he lodged? Hor. Where I shall be fearful to draw you out of your way, sir; a great way hence; pray, sir, let's part. Cris. Nay, but where is't? I prithee say. Hor. On the far side of all Tyber yonder, by Cæsar's gardens. Cris. Ŏ, that's my course directly; I am for you. Come, go; why stand'st thou? Hor. Yes, sir: marry, the plague is in that part of the city; I had almost forgot to tell you, sir. Cris. Foh! it is no matter, I fear no pestilence; I have not offended Phoebus. Hor. I have, it seems, or else this heavy scourge Could ne'er have lighted on me. Cris. Come along. Hor. I am to go down some half mile this way, sir, first, to speak with his physician; and from thence to his apothecary, where I shall stay the mixing of divers drugs. Cris. Why, it's all one, I have nothing to do, and I love not to be idle; I'll bear thee company. How call'st thou the apothecary? Hor. O that I knew a name would fright him now! Sir, Rhadamanthus, Rhadamanthus, sir. Hor. Your pothecary does, sir. Cris. Heart, I owe him money for sweetmeats, and he has laid to arrest me, I hear: but Hor. Sir, I have made a most solemn vow, I will never bail any man. Cris. Well then, I'll swear, and speak him fair, if the worst come. But his name is Minos, not Rhadamanthus, Horace. Hor. That may be, sir, I but guessed at his name by his sign. But your Minos is a judge too, sir. Cris. I protest to thee, Horace, (do but taste me once,) if I do know myself, and mine own virtues truly, thou wilt not make that esteem of Varius, or Virgil, or Tibullus, or any of 'em indeed, as now in thy ignorance thou dost; which I am content to forgive: I would fain see which of these could pen more verses in a day, or with more facility, than I; or that could court his mistress, kiss her hand, make better sport of her fan or her dog Hor. I cannot bail you yet, sir. Cris. Or that could move his body more gracefully, or dance better; you should see me, were it not in the street |