Tears dropping down his cheeks, his white hairs torn,
His legs in rusty fetters, and his tongue
Bitterly cursing that his squint-eyed soul
Did not make choice of wisdom’s sacred love.
Fortune, to triumph in inconstancy,
From prison bails him: liberty is wild,
For being set free, he like a lusty eagle
Cut with his vent’rous feathers through the sky,
And ‘lights not till he find the Turkish court.
Thither transport your eyes, and there behold him,
Revelling with the Emperor of the East,
From whence through fear, for safeguard of his life,
Flying into the arms of ugly Night,
Suppose you see him brought to Babylon;
And that the sun clothed all in fire hath rid
One quarter of his hot celestial way
With the bright morning, and that in this instant,
He and the Soldan meet, but what they say,
Listen you — the talk of kings none dare bewray. [Exit.
SCENE I. — The Court at Babylon.
ENTER THE SOLDAN, Noblemen, and Fortunatus.
Sold. Art thou that Fortunatus, whose great name,
Being carried in the chariot of the winds,
Hast filled the courts of all our Asian kings
With love and envy, whose dear presence ties
The eyes of admiration to thine eyes?
Art thou that Jove that in a shower of gold
Appeared’st before the Turkish Emperor?
Fort. I am that Fortunatus, mighty Soldan.
Sold. Where is that purse which threw abroad such treasure?
Fort. I gave it to the Turkish Soliman,
A second I bestowed on Prester John,
A third the great Tartarian Cham received:
For with these monarchs have I banqueted,
And rid with them in triumph through their courts,
In crystal chariots drawn by unicorns.
England, France, Spain, and wealthy Belgia,
And all the rest of Europe’s blessed daughters,
Have made my covetous eye rich in th’ embrace
Of their celestial beauties; now I come
To see the glory of fair Babylon.
Is Fortunatus welcome to the Soldan?
For I am like the sun, if Jove once chide,
My gilded brows from amorous Heaven I hide.
Sold. Most welcome, and most happy are mine arms
In circling such an earthly deity;
But will not Fortunatus make me blessed
By sight of such a purse?
Fort. Ere I depart,
The Soldan shall receive one at my hands:
For I must spend some time in framing it,
And then some time to breathe that virtuous spirit
Into the heart thereof, all which is done
By a most sacred inspiration.
Sold. Welcome, most welcome to the Soldan’s court;
Stay here and be the King of Babylon:
Stay here, I will more amaze thine eyes
With wondrous sights, than can all Asia.
Behold yon town, there stands mine armoury,
In which are corselets forged of beaten gold,
To arm ten hundred thousand fighting men,
Whose glittering squadrons when the sun beholds,
They seem like to ten hundred thousand Joves,
When Jove on the proud back of thunder rides,
Trapped all in lightning flames: there can I show thee
The ball of gold that set all Troy on fire;
There shalt thou see the scarf of Cupid’s mother,
Snatched from the soft moist ivory of her arm,
To wrap about Adonis’ wounded thigh;
There shalt thou see a wheel of Titan’s care,
Which dropped from Heaven when Phaeton fired the world:
I’ll give thee, if thou wilt, two silver doves
Composed by magic to divide the air,
Who, as they fly, shall clap their silver wings,
And give strange music to the elements;
I’ll give thee else the fan of Proserpine,
Which in reward for a sweet Thracian song,
The black-browed Empress threw to Orpheus,
Being come to fetch Eurydice from hell.
Fort. Hath ever mortal eye beheld these wonders?
Sold. Thine shall behold them, and make choice of any,
So thou wilt give the Soldan such a purse.
Fort. By Fortune’s blessèd hand, who christened me,
The mighty Soldan shall have such a purse,
Provided I may see these priceless wonders.
Sold. Leave us alone: [Exeunt Nobles.] never was mortal ear
Acquainted with the virtue of a jewel,
Which now I’ll show, out-valuing all the rest.
Fort. It is impossible.
Sold. Behold this casket, [Draws a curtain.
Fettered in golden chains, the lock pure gold,
The key of solid gold, which myself keep,
And here’s the treasure that’s contained in it. [Takes out the hat.
Fort. A coarse felt hat? is this the precious jewel?
Sold. I’ll not exchange this for ten diadems.
On pain of death, none listen to our talk.
Fort. What needs this solemn conjuration!
Sold. O, yes, for none shall understand the worth
Of this inestimable ornament,
But you: and yet not you, but that you swear
By her white hand, that lent you such a name,
To leave a wondrous purse in Babylon.
Fort. What I have sworn, I will not violate,
But now uncover the virtues of this hat.
Sold. I think none listen; if they do, they die.
Fort. None listen: tell, what needs this jealousy?
Sold. You see ’tis poor in show; did I want jewels,
Gold could beget them, but the wide world’s wealth
Buys not this hat: this clapped upon my head,
I, only with a wish, am through the air
Transported in a moment over seas
And over lands to any secret place;
By this I steal to every prince’s court,
And hear their private counsels and prevent
All dangers which to Babylon are meant;
By help of this I oft see armies join,
Though when the dreadful Alvarado sounds,
I am distant from the place a thousand leagues.
Oh, had I such a purse and such a hat,
The Soldan were, of all, most fortunate.
Fort. Oh, had I such a hat, then were I brave.
Where’s he that made it?
Sold. Dead, and the whole world
Yields not a workman that can frame the like.
Fort. No, does’t? By what trick shall I make this mine? [Aside.
Methinks, methinks, when you are borne o’er seas,
And over lands, the heaviness thereof
Should weigh you down, drown you, or break your neck.
Sold. No, ’tis more light than any hat beside:
Your hand shall peise it.
Fort. Oh, ’tis wondrous heavy.
Sold. Fie, y’are deceived: try it upon your head.
Fort. Would I were now in Cyprus with my sons. [Exit.
Sold. Stay! Fortunatus, stay! I am undone.
Treason, lords, treason, get me wings, I’ll fly
After this damnèd traitor through the air.
Re-enter Nobles.
Nobles. Who wrongs the mighty King of Babylon?
Sold. This Fortunatus, this fiend, wrongs your king.
Nobles. Lock the court gates, where is the devil hid?
Sold. No gates, no grates of iron imprison him,
Like a magician breaks he through the clouds,
Bearing
my soul with him, for that jewel gone,
I am dead, and all is dross in Babylon.
Fly after him!— ’tis vain: on the wind’s wings,
He’ll ride through all the courts of earthly kings.
Nobles. What is the jewel that your grace hath lost?
Sold. He dies that troubles me: call me not king;
For I’ll consume my life in sorrowing. [Exeunt.
SCENE II. — Outside the House of Fortunatus.
ENTER ANDELOCIA, VERY gallant, and Shadow.
Andel. Shadow? what have I lost to-day at dice?
Shad. More than you will win again in a month.
Andel. Why, sir, how much comes it to?
Shad. It comes to nothing, sir, for you have lost your wits; and when a man’s wits are lost, the man is like twenty pounds’ worth of tobacco, which mounts into th’ air, and proves nothing but one thing.
Andel. And what thing is that, you ass?
Shad. Marry, sir, that he is an ass that melts so much money in smoke.
Andel. ‘Twere a charitable deed to hang thee a smoking.
Shad. I should never make good bacon, because I am not fat.
Andel. I’ll be sworn thy wit is lean.
Shad. It’s happy I have a lean wit: but, master, you have none; for when your money tripped away, that went after it, and ever since you have been mad. Here comes your brother.
Enter Ampedo.
Borrow a dram of him, if his be not mouldy: for men’s wits in these days are like the cuckoo, bald once a year, and that makes motley so dear, and fools so good cheap.
Andel. Brother, all hail.
Shad. There’s a rattling salutation.
Andel. You must lend me some more money. Nay, never look so strange, an you will come off, so; if you will bar me from square play, do. Come, come, when the old traveller my father comes home, like a young ape, full of fantastic tricks, or a painted parrot stuck full of outlandish feathers, he’ll lead the world in a string, and then like a hot shot I’ll charge and discharge all.
Shad. I would be loth, master, to see that day: for he leads the world in a string that goes to hanging.
Andel. Take heed I turn not that head into the world, and lead you so.
Brother wilt be? Ha’ ye any ends of gold or silver?
Amp. Thus wanton revelling breeds beggary.
Brother, ‘twere better that you still lived poor.
Want would make wisdom rich: but when your coffers
Swell to the brim, then riot sets up sails,
And like a desperate unskilled mariner
Drives your unsteady fortunes on the point
Of wreck inevitable. Of all the wealth
Left by our father, when he left us last,
This little is unspent, and this being wasted,
Your riot ends; therefore consume it all.
I’ll live; or dying, find some burial.
Andel. Thanks for my crowns. Shadow, I am villainous hungry, to hear one of the seven wise masters talk thus emptily.
Shad. I am a villain, master, if I am not hungry.
Andel. Because I’ll save this gold, sirrah Shadow, we’ll feed ourselves with paradoxes.
Shad. Oh rare: what meat’s that?
Andel. Meat, you gull: ’tis no meat: a dish of paradoxes is a feast of strange opinion, ’tis an ordinary that our greatest gallants haunt nowadays, because they would be held for statesmen.
Shad. I shall never fill my belly with opinions.
Andel. In despite of sway-bellies, gluttons, and sweet mouthed epicures, I’ll have thee maintain a paradox in commendations of hunger.
Shad. I shall never have the stomach to do’t.
Andel. See’st thou this crusado? do it, and turn this into a feast.
Shad. Covetousness and lechery are two devils, they’ll tempt a man to wade through deep matters: I’ll do’t though good cheer conspire my death, for speaking treason against her.
Andel. Fall to it then with a full mouth.
Shad. Oh famine, inspire me with thy miserable reasons.
I begin, master.
Amp. O miserable invocation.
Andel. Silence!
Shad. There’s no man but loves one of these three beasts, a horse, a hound, or a whore; the horse by his goodwill has his head ever in the manger; the whore with your ill will has her hand ever in your purse; and a hungry dog eats dirty puddings.
Andel. This is profound, forward: the conclusion of this now.
Shad. The conclusion is plain: for since all men love one of these three monsters, being such terrible eaters, therefore all men love hunger.
Amp. A very lean argument.
Shad. I can make it no fatter.
Andel. Proceed, good Shadow; this fats me.
Shad. Hunger is made of gunpowder.
Andel. Give fire to that opinion.
Shad. Stand by, lest it blow you up. Hunger is made of gunpowder, or gunpowder of hunger, for they both eat through stone walls; hunger is a grindstone, it sharpens wit; hunger is fuller of love than Cupid, for it makes a man eat himself; hunger was the first that ever opened a cook shop, cooks the first that ever made sauce, sauce being liquorish, licks up good meat; good meat preserves life: hunger therefore preserves life.
Amp. By my consent thou shouldst still live by hunger.
Shad. Not so, hunger makes no man mortal: hunger is an excellent physician, for he dares kill any body. Hunger is one of the seven liberal sciences.
Andel. Oh learned! Which of the seven?
Shad. Music, for she’ll make a man leap at a crust; but as few care for her six sisters, so none love to dance after her pipe. Hunger, master, is hungry and covetous; therefore the crusado.
Andel. But hast thou no sharper reasons than this?
Shad. Yes, one: the dagger of Cyprus had never stabbed out such six penny pipes, but for hunger.
Andel. Why, you dolt, these pipes are but in their minority.
Shad. My belly and my purse have been twenty times at dagger’s drawing, with parting the little urchins.
Enter Fortunatus.
Amp. Peace, idiot, peace, my father is returned.
Fort. Touch me not, boys, I am nothing but air; let none speak to me, till you have marked me well.
Shad. (Chalking Fortunatus’ back.) Now speak your mind.
Amp. Villain, why hast thou chalked my father’s back?
Shad. Only to mark him, and to try what colour air is of.
Fort. Regard him not, Ampedo: Andelocia, Shadow, view me, am I as you are, or am I transformed?
Andel. I thought travel would turn my father madman or fool.
Amp. How should you be transformed? I see no change.
Shad. If your wits be not planet stricken, if your brains lie in their right place, you are well enough; for your body is little mended by your fetching vagaries.
Andel. Methinks, father, you look as you did, only your face is more withered.
Fort. That’s not my fault; age is like love, it cannot be hid.
Shad. Or like gunpowder a-fire, or like a fool, or like a young novice new come to his lands: for all these will show of what house they come. Now, sir, you may amplify.
Fort. Shadow, turn thy tongue to a shadow, be silent! Boys, be proud, your father hath the whole world in this compass, I am all felicity, up to the brims. In a minute am I come from Babylon, I have been this half-hour in Famagosta.
Andel. How? in a minute, father? Ha, ha, I see travellers must lie.
Shad. ’Tis their destiny: the Fates do so conspire.
Fort. I have cut through the air like a falcon; I would have it seem strange to you.
Shad. So it does, sir.
Fort. But ’tis true: I would not have you believe it neither.
Shad. No more we do not, sir.
Fort. But ’tis miraculous and true. Desire to see you, brought me to Cyprus. I’ll leave you more gold, and go visit more countries.
Shad. Leave us gold enough, and we’ll m
ake all countries come visit us.
Amp. The frosty hand of age now nips your blood,
And strews her snowy flowers upon your head,
And gives you warning that within few years,
Death needs must marry you: those short-lived minutes,
That dribble out your life, must needs be spent
In peace, not travel: rest in Cyprus then.
Could you survey ten worlds, yet you must die;
And bitter is the sweet that’s reaped thereby.
Andel. Faith, father, what pleasure have you met by walking your stations?
Fort. What pleasure, boy? I have revelled with kings, danced with queens, dallied with ladies, worn strange attires, seen fantasticos, conversed with humorists, been ravished with divine raptures of Doric, Lydian and Phrygian harmonies. I have spent the day in triumphs, and the night in banqueting.
Andel. Oh rare: this was heavenly.
Shad. Methinks ’twas horrible.
Andel. He that would not be an Arabian phœnix to burn in these sweet fires, let him live like an owl for the world to wonder at.
Amp. Why, brother, are not all these vanities?
Fort. Vanities? Ampedo, thy soul is made of lead, too dull, too ponderous to mount up to the incomprehensible glory that travel lifts men to.
Shad. My old master’s soul is cork and feathers, and being so light doth easily mount up.
Andel. Sweeten mine ears, good father, with some more.
Fort. When in the warmth of mine own country’s arms
We yawned like sluggards, when this small horizon
Imprisoned up my body, then mine eyes
Worshipped these clouds as brightest; but, my boys,
The glist’ring beams which do abroad appear
In other heavens, — fire is not half so clear.
Shad. Why, sir, are there other heavens in other countries?
Andel. Peace; interrupt him not upon thy life.
Fort. For still in all the regions I have seen,
I scorned to crowd among the muddy throng
Of the rank multitude, whose thickened breath,
Like to condensèd fogs, do choke that beauty,
Which else would dwell in every kingdom’s cheek.
No, I still boldly stept into their courts,
For there to live ’tis rare, O ’tis divine;
There shall you see faces angelical,
There shall you see troops of chaste goddesses,
Whose star-like eyes have power, might they still shine,
To make night day, and day more crystalline.
Complete Dramatic Works of Thomas Dekker Page 11