Of his two Eggs and Puddings with the market women.
Rus. And what do you Sir, with the Advocates wife,
Whom you perswade, upon your Doctoral bed,
To take the Mathematical trance so often?
Fis. Come, we are stark naught all, bad’s the best of us,
Four of the seven deadly spots we are;
Besides our Leachery, we are envious,
And most, most gluttonous when we have it thus,
Most covetous now we want it; then our Boy
He is a fifth spot, sloth and he undoes us.
Bub. ’Tis true, the child was wont to be industrious,
And now and then sent to a Merchants wife
Sick of the Husband, or a swearing Butler
That mist of his Bowls, a crying Maid
Had lost a Silver spoon; the Curry comb
Sometimes was wanting; there was something gotten;
But now —
Pip. What now? Did not I yester-morning
Bring you in a Cardecu there from the Peasant,
Whose ass I had driven aside, and hid, that you
Might conjure for him? and then last night,
Six Soulz from the Cooks wife, you shar’d among you
To set a figure for the Pestle I stole,
It is not at home yet; these things, my Masters,
In a hard time, they would be thought on: you
Talk of your lands and Castles in the air,
Of your twelve houses there: but it is I
That bring you in your rents for ’em, ’tis Pippeau
That is your bird-call.
Nor. Faith he does well,
And cuts through the Elements for us, I must needs say
In a fine dextrous line.
Fis. But not as he did
At first, then he would sail with any wind
Int’ every Creek and Corner.
Pip. I was light then,
New built and rigg’d when I came to you, Gentlemen,
But now with often and far venturing for you
Here be leaks sprung, and whole Planks wanting see you;
If you’l new sheath me again, yet I am for you
To any bog or sleights, where e’re you’l send me,
For as I am, where can this ragged Bark
Put in for any service; ‘less it be
O’th’ Isle of Rogues, and there turn Pirate for you.
Nor. Faith he says reason, Fryer, you must leave
Your neat crisp Claret, and fall to your Cyder
A while; and you la Fiske, your larded Capons
And Turkys for a time, and take a good
Clean Tripe in your way; de Bube too must content him with
wholsom two souz’d petitoes, no more Crown Ordinaries,
till we have cloath’d our Infant.
Bub. So you’l keep
Your own good motions, Doctor, your dear self.
Fis. Yes, for we all do know the Latitude
Of your Concupiscence.
Rus. Here about your belly.
Bub. You’l pick a bottle open or a whimsey,
As soon as the best of us.
Crowns are coming toward you, wine and wenches
You shall have once again, and Fidlers:
Fis. And dip your wrist-bands,
(For Cuffs y’have none) as comely in the sauce [the Bell
As any Courtier — hark, the Bell, who is there? rings.
Rus. Good luck I do conjure thee; Boy look out.
Pip. They are Gallants, courtiers, one of ’em is [Exit and
Of the Dukes bed-chamber. ‘enter again.
Rus. Latorch, down,
On with your gown, there’s a new suite arriv’d, [To Nor
Did I not tell you, Sons of hunger? Crowns ‘bret.
Into your studyes close; each lay his ear
To his door, and as you hear me to prepare you
So come, and put me on that visard only.
Enter Latorch, Hamond.
Lat. You’l not be far hence Captain, when the
Business is done you shall receive present dispatch.
Ham. I’le walk Sir, in the Cloyster. [Exit.
Rus. Monsieur Latorch; my Son,
The Stars are happy still that guide you hither.
Lat. I’me glad to hear their Secretary say so,
My learned Father Russe, where’s la Fiske,
Monsieur de Bube, how do they?
Rus. At their studyes,
They are the Secretaries of the Stars, Sir,
Still at their books, they will not be pull’d off,
They stick like cupping glasses; if ever men
Spoke with the tongue of destiny, ’tis they.
Lat. For loves sake let’s salute ’em.
Rus. Boy, go see,
Tell them who’s here, say, that their friends do challenge
Some portion of their time, this is our minute,
Pray ’em they’l spare it: they are the Sun and Moon
Of knowledge; pity two such noble lights
Should live obscur’d here in an University,
Whose beams were fit to ‘illumine any court
Of Christendom.
Enter la Fisk, de Bube, and Pippeau.
Lat. The Duke will shortly know ’em.
Fis. Well, look upon the Astrolabe; you’l find it
Four Almucanturies at least.
Bub. It is so.
Rus. Still of their learned stuff, they care for nothing,
But how to know, as negli[g]ent of their bodies
In dyet, or else, especially in their cloaths,
As if they had no change.
Pip. They have so little
As well may free them from the name of shifters.
Fis. Monsieur Latorch?
Lat. How is it, learned Gentlemen, with both your vertues?
Bub. A most happy hour, when we see you, Sir.
Lat. When you hear me then
It will be happier; the Duke greets you both
Thus, and though you may touch no mony, Father,
Yet you may take it.
Rus. ’Tis his highness bounty,
But yet to me, and these that have put off
The world, superfluous.
Fis. We have heard of late of his highness good success.
Bub. And gratulate it.
Lat. Indeed he hath scap’d a strange Conspiracy,
Thanks to his Stars; which Stars he prayes by me,
You would again consult, and make a Judgement
On what you lately erected for my love.
Rus. Oh, Sir, we dare not.
Fis. For our lives.
Bub. It is the Princes Scheam.
Lat. T’incounter with that fear,
Here’s to assure you, his Signet, write your names,
And be secured all three.
Bub. We must intreat some time, Sir.
Lat. I must then intreat it, be as present as you can.
Fis. Have you the Scheam here?
Lat. Yes.
Rus. I would you had Sir another warrant.
Lat. What would that do?
Rus. Marry we have a Doctor Sir, that in this business
Would not perform the second part.
Lat. Not him that you writ to me of?
Rus. The very same.
Lat. I should have made it, Sir, my suit to see him,
Here is a warrant Father, I conceiv’d
That he had solely applyed himself to Magick.
Rus. And to their studies too Sir, in this field
He was initiated, but we shall hardly
Draw him from his chair.
Lat. Tell him he shall have gold.
Fis. Oh, such a syllable would make him to forswear
Ever to breath in your sight.
Lat. How then?
Fis. Sir, he if you do please to give him any thing,
Must have’t convey’d under a paper.
Bub. Or in some old wall.’
Fis. Where his familiars may tell him of it, and that pleases him, Sir.
Bub. Or else I’le go and assay him.
Lat. Take gold with you.
Rus. That will not be amiss; give it the Boy, Sir,
He knows his holes, and how to bait his Spirits.
Pip. We must lay in several places, Sir.
Rus. That’s true, that if one come not, the other may hit.
Lat. Well, go then, is he so learned, Gentlemen?
Fis. The very top of our profession; mouth of the fates,
Pray Heaven his Spirits be in a good humor to take,
They’l fling the gold about the house else.
Bub. I, and beat the Fryer if he go not well
Furnisht with holy-water.
Fis. Sir, you must observe him.
Bub. Not cross him in a word, for then he’s gone.
Fis. If he do come, which is a hazard, yet —
Mass he’s here, this is speed.
Enter Norb[re]t, Russ, Pippeau.
Nor. Where is our Scheme,
Let’s see, dispatch, nay fumbling now, who’s this?
Rus. Chief Gentleman of the Dukes Chamber, Doctor.
Nor. Oh, let him be, good even to him, he’s a courtier,
I’le spare his complement, tell him: what’s here?
The geniture Nocturnal, Longitude
At forty nine and ten minutes? How are the cardins?
Fis. Libra in twenty four, forty four minutes,
And Capricorn.
Nor. I see it, see the Planets,
Where, how are they dispos’d? the Sun and Mercury,
Mars with the Dragons tail in the third house,
And pars Fortune in the Imo Cceli,
Then Jupiter in the twelfth, the Cacodemon.
Bub. And Venus in the second Inferna Porta.
Nor. I see it, peace, then Saturn in the Fifth,
Luna i’th’ Seventh, and much of Scorpio,
Then Mars his Gaudium, rising in th’ascendent,
And joyn’d with Libra too, the house of Venus,
And [lmum] Cceli, Mars his exaltation
In the seventh house, Aries being his natural house
And where he is now seated, and all these shew him
To be the Almuten.
Rus. Yes, he’s Lord of the Geniture,
Whether you examine it by Ptolomeys way,
Or Messethales, Lael, or Alkindus.
Fis. No other Planet hath so many dignities
Either by himself, or in regard of the Cusps.
Nor. Why hold your tongue then if you know it; Venus
The Lady of the Horoscope, being Libra,
The other part, Mars rules: So that the geniture,
Being Nocturnal, Luna is the highest,
None else being in sufficient dignity,
She being in Aries in the Seventh house,
Where Sol exalted, is the Alchoroden.
Bub. Yes, for you see he hath his Termin
In the degrees where she is, and enjoyes
By that, six dignities.
Fis. Which are clearly more
Than any else that view her in the Scheam.
Nor. Why I saw this, and could have told you too,
That he beholds her with a Trine aspect
Here out of Sagittary, almost partile,
And how that Mars out of the self same house,
(But another Sign) here by a Platique aspect
Looks at the Hilege, with a Quartile ruling
The house where the Sun is; all this could I
Have told you, but that you’ll outrun me; and more,
That this same Quartile aspect to the Lady of life,
Here in the seventh, promises some danger,
Cauda Draconis being so near Mars,
And Caput Algol in the house of Death.
Lat. How, Sir? I pray you clear that.
Nor. What is the question first?
Rus. Of the Dukes life, what dangers threaten him?
Nor. Apparent, and those suddain, when the Hyley
Or Alchorodon by direction come
To a Quartile opposition of the place
Where Mars is in the Geniture (which is now
At hand) or else oppose to Mars himself; expect it.
Lat. But they may be prevented.
Nor. Wisdom only
That rules the Stars, may do it; for Mars being
Lord of the Geniture in Capricorn,
Is, if you mark it, now a Sextile here,
With Venus Lady of the Horoscope.
So she being in her Exilium, which is Scorpio,
And Mars his Gaudium, is o’rerul’d by him,
And clear debilitated five degrees
Beneath her ordinary power, so
That, at the most she can but mitigate.
Lat. You cannot name the persons bring this danger?
Nor. No, that the Stars tell us not, they name no man,
That is a work, Sir, of another place.
Rus. Tell him whom you suspect, and he’ll guess shrewdly.
Lat. Sir, we do fear one Aubrey; if ‘twere he
I should be glad j for we should soon prevent him.
Fis. I know him, the Dukes Kinsman, a tall man?
Lay hold of’t Norbret.
Nor. Let me pause a little,
Is he not near of kin unto the Duke?
Lat. Yes, reverend Sir. ‘(what high of stature?
Nor.’Fart for your reverence, keep it till then; and some-
Lat. He is so.
Nor. How old is he?
Fis. About seven and fifty.
Nor. His head and beard inclining to be grey.
Lat. Right, Sir.
Fis. And fat?
Nor. He is somewhat corpulent, is he not?
Lat. You speak the man, Sir.
Nor. Well, look to him, farewel. [Exit Norb.
Lat. Oh, it is Aubrey; Gentlemen, I pray you,
Let me receive this under all your hands.
Rus. Why, he will shew you him in his Magick glass
If you intreat him, and but gratifie
A spirit or two more.
Lat. He shall eat gold
If he will have it, so shall you all; there’s that
Amongst you first, let me have this to send
The Duke in the mean time; and then what sights
You please to shew; I’le have you so rewarded
As never Artists were, you shall to Court
Along with me, and there wait you[r] fortunes.
Bub. We have a pretty part of’t in our pockets;
Boy we will all be new, you shall along too. [Exeunt.
SCENE III.
Enter Sophia, Matilda, and Edith.
Mat. Good Madam, hear the suit that Edith urges,
With such submiss beseeches; nor remain
So strictly bound to sorrow for your son,
That nothing else, though never so befitting,
Obtains your ears, or observation.
Sop. What would she say? I hear.
Edith. My suit is, Madam,
That you would please to think as well of justice
Due to your sons revenge, as of more wrong added
To both your selves for it, in only grieving.
Th’ undaunted power of Princes should not be
Confin’d in deedless cold calamity;
Anger, the Twin of sorrow, in your wrongs
Should not be smother’d, when his right of birth
Claims th’ Air as well, and force of coming forth.
Sop. Sorrow is due already, anger never
Should be conceived but where it may [be] born
In some fact fit t’employ his active flame,
That else consumes who bears it, and abides
Like a false star that quenches as it glides.
Ed. I have
such means t’employ it as your wish
Can think no better, easier, or securer;
And such as but th’ honours I intend
To your partakings, I alone could end:
But your parts in all dues to crying blood
For vengeance in the shedder, are much greater:
And therefore should work your hands to his slaughter.
For your consent to which, ‘twere infinite wrong
To your severe and most impartial justice,
To move you to forget so false a son
As with a Mothers duty made you curse him.
Mat. Edith, he is forgot, for any son
Born of my Mother, or to me a Brother.
For should we still perform our rights to him
We should partake his wrongs, and as foul be
In blood and damned parricide as he.
And therefore tell the happy means that Heaven
Puts in thy hand, for all our long’d for freedom
From so abhorr’d and impious a monster.
Sop. Tell what she will, I’le lend nor hand nor ear
To whatsoever Heaven puts in her power. [Exit Sophia.
Mat. How strange she is to what she chiefly wishes!
Sweet Edith be not any thought the more
Discourag’d in thy purpose, but assured,
Her heart and prayers are thine; and that we two
Shall be enough to all we wish to do.
Edith. Madam, my self alone, I make no doubt
Shall be afforded power enough from Heaven
To end the murtherer: all I wish of you,
Is but some richer Ornaments and Jewels
Than I am able to provide my self,
To help out the defeats of my poor Beauty,
That yet hath been enough, as now it is,
To make his fancy mad with my desire.
But you know, Madam, Women never can
Be too fair to torment an amorous man;
And this mans torments I would heighten still,
Till at their highest he be fit to kill.
Mat. Thou shalt have all my Jewels and my Mothers,
And thou shalt paint too, that his bloods desire
May make him perish in a painted fire;
Hast thou been with him yet?
Edith. Been with him? no;
I set that hour back to haste more his longing;
But I have promis’d to his instruments,
The admittance of a visit at our house,
Where yet I would receive him with all lustre
My sorrow would give leave to, to remove
Suspicion of my purpose.
Mat. Thou shalt have
All I can add, sweet wench, in Jewels, tyres,
I’le be my self thy dresser; nor may I
Serve my own love with a contracted Husband
More sweetly, nor more amply than maist thou
Thy forward will with his bewitch’d affections:
Affect’st thou any personal aid of mine
The Complete Poetical Works of George Chapman Page 226