A Select Collection of Old English Plays Volume Ix Part 43

When I arrive within the Isle of Dogs, Dan Phoebus, I will make thee kiss the pump.

Thy one eye pries in every draper's stall, Yet never thinks on poet Furor's need.

Furor is lousy, great Furor lousy is; I'll make thee rue[135] this lousy case, i-wis.

And thou, my s.l.u.ttish[136] laundress, Cynthia, Ne'er think'st on Furor's linen, Furor's s.h.i.+rt.

Thou and thy squirting boy Endymion Lies slav'ring still upon a lawless couch.

Furor will have thee carted through the dirt, That mak'st great poet Furor want his s.h.i.+rt.

INGENIOSO.

Is not here a trusty[137] dog, that dare bark so boldly at the moon?

PHILOMUSUS.

Exclaiming want, and needy care and cark, Would make the mildest sprite to bite and bark.

PHANTASMA.

_Canes timidi vehementius latrant_. There are certain burrs in the Isle of Dogs called, in our English tongue, men of wors.h.i.+p; certain briars, as the Indians call them; as we say, certain lawyers; certain great lumps of earth, as the Arabians call them; certain grocers, as we term them. _Quos ego--sed motos praestat componere fluctus_.

INGENIOSO.

We three unto the snarling island haste, And there our vexed breath in snarling waste.

PHILOMUSUS.

We will be gone unto the downs of Kent, Sure footing we shall find in humble dale; Our fleecy flock we'll learn to watch and ward, In July's heat, and cold of January.

We'll chant our woes upon an oaten reed, Whiles bleating flock upon their supper feed.

STUDIOSO.

So shall we shun the company of men, That grows more hateful, as the world grows old.

We'll teach the murm'ring brooks in tears to flow, And steepy rock to wail our pa.s.sed woe.

ACADEMICO.

Adieu, you gentle spirits, long adieu; Your wits I love, and your ill-fortunes rue.

I'll haste me to my Cambridge cell again; My fortunes cannot wax, but they may wain.

INGENIOSO.

Adieu, good shepherds; happy may you live.

And if hereafter in some secret shade You shall recount poor scholars' miseries, Vouchsafe to mention with tear-swelling eyes Ingenioso's thwarting destinies.

And thou, still happy Academico, That still may'st rest upon the muses' bed, Enjoying there a quiet slumbering, When thou repair'st[138] unto thy Granta's stream, Wonder at thine own bliss, pity our case, That still doth tread ill-fortune's endless maze; Wish them, that are preferment's almoners, To cherish gentle wits in their green bud; For had not Cambridge been to me unkind, I had not turn'd to gall a milky mind.

PHILOMUSUS.

I wish thee of good hap a plenteous store; Thy wit deserves no less, my love can wish no more.

Farewell, farewell, good Academico; Ne'er may'st thou taste of our fore-pa.s.sed woe.

We wish thy fortunes may attain their due.-- Furor and you, Phantasma, both adieu,

ACADEMICO.

Farewell, farewell, farewell; O, long farewell!

The rest my tongue conceals, let sorrow tell.

PHANTASMA.

_Et longum vale, inquit Iola_.

FUROR.

Farewell, my masters; Furor's a masty dog, Nor can with a smooth glosing farewell cog.

Nought can great Furor do but bark and howl, And snarl, and grin, and carl, and touse the world, Like a great swine, by his long, lean-ear'd lugs.

Farewell, musty, dusty, rusty, fusty London; Thou art not worthy of great Furor's wit, That cheatest virtue of her due desert, And suffer'st great Apollo's son to want.

INGENIOSO.

Nay, stay awhile, and help me to content So many gentle wits' attention, Who ken the laws of every comic stage, And wonder that our scene ends discontent.

Ye airy wits subtle, Since that few scholars' fortunes are content, Wonder not if our scene ends discontent.

When that your fortunes reach their due content, Then shall our scene end here in merriment.

PHILOMUSUS.

Perhaps some happy wit with seely[139] hand Hereafter may record the pastoral Of the two scholars of Parna.s.sus hill, And then our scene may end, and have content.

INGENIOSO.

Meantime, if there be any spiteful ghost, That smiles to see poor scholars' miseries, Cold is his charity, his wit too dull: We scorn his censure, he's a jeering gull.

But whatsoe'er refined sprites there be, That deeply groan at our calamity: Whose breath is turn'd to sighs, whose eyes are wet, To see bright arts bent to their latest set; Whence never they again their heads shall rear, To bless our art-disgracing hemisphere, Let them. FUROR. Let them. all give us a plaudite.

PHANTASMA. Let them.

ACADEMICO. And none but them. PHILOMUSUS. give us a plaudite.

And none but them. STUDIOSO. And none but them.

FINIS.

WILY BEGUILED.

_EDITION.

A Pleasant Comedie, called Wily Begvilde. The Chiefe Actors be these: A poore scholler, a rich Foole, and a Knaue at a s.h.i.+fte. At London, Printed by H.L. for Clement Knight, and are to be solde at his Shop, in Paules Church-yard, at the signe of the Holy Lambe_. 1606. 4to.

[There were later editions in 1623, 1635, and 1638, all in 4to. That of 1606 is the most correct.

Hawkins, who included this piece in his collection, observes: "_Wily Beguiled_ is a regular and very pleasing Comedy; and if it were judiciously adapted to the manners of the times, would make no contemptible appearance on the modern stage."]

SPECTRUM, THE PROLOGUE.

What, ho! where are these paltry players? still poring in their papers, and never perfect? For shame, come forth; your audience stay so long, their eyes wax dim with expectation.

_Enter one of the_ PLAYERS.