Tit? OR THE MARRIAGES OF THE ARTS.  
A Comedy, Written by BARTEN holiday, Master of Arts, and Student of Christ-Church in Oxford, and acted by the Students of the same House before the University, at Shrovetide.  
LONDON Printed by William Stansby for john Parker, and are to be sold at his shop in Paul's Churchyard at the sign of the Ball. 1618.   


The Actors.  
POLITES, A Magistrate.  
PHYSICA,  
ASTRONOMIA, Daughter to Physica.  
ETHICUS, An old man.  
OECONOMA, Wife to Ethicus.  
GEOGRAPHUS, A travailer, & courtier: in love with Astronomia.  
geometre's, In love with Astronomia.  
ARITHMETICA, In love with geometre's.  
LOGICUS,  
GRAMMATICUS, A schoolmaster.  
POETA,  
HISTORIA, In love with Poeta.  
RHETORICA, In love with Logicus.  
MUSICA, Attendant on Astronomia  
MEDICUS,  
CAUSIDICUS,  
MAGUS,  
ASTROLOGIA, Wife to Magus  
PHANTASTES, Servant to Geographus.  
MELANCHOLICO, Poeta's man.  
CHOLER, Grammaticus his Usher.  
SANGVIS, Medicus his man.  
PHLEGMATICO, Logicus his man.  
Gypsies, and Fortune-tellers. 

PHYSIOGNOMUS,  
CHEIROMANTES. Gypsies, and Fortune-tellers.    
Persons only mentioned METAPHYSICUS, an Apothecary.   
THE SCENE. INSULA FORTUNATA.   

prologue.  
GRacious Spectators, not to vex your ears  
With some old Negative Prologue, saying, Here's  
No Soldier, no Parasite, no Whore,  
No bawd (for many understand no more  
Than such cheap stage-ware) to unfold our Scene,  
And without vail to Open what we mean  
Behold. Here the upper part of the Scene opened; when straight appeared a Heaven, and all the Pure Arts sitting on two semicircular benches, one above another: who sat thus till the rest of the Prologue was spoken, which being ended, they descended in order within the Scene, whiles the Music played Our Poet knowing our free hearts  
Has here invited Heaven and All the Arts  
To entertain His Theater, and does bring  
What he prepared for our Platonic King:  
Deeming Your judgements able to supply  
The absence of So Great a Majesty.  
But his free conscience does protest, the mirth  
Of this his night was but a five-weeks' birth;  
Yet no Abortive; if your courteous hands  
Shall wrap the Infant in his swathing bands.  
It Speaks Already and each Art, to raise  
Delight, does use its Own Distinguished phrase.  
Lend your Purged ears. If any do look grim,  
Our Author says they wrong the Arts not Him:  
He strives to Please. But yet he scorns to be  
So vile, to Bargain for a Plaudite;  
And from your seats, at a Compacted clap,  
Hug an Abusing joy. If 'tis his hap  
To have your Free applause, to This he stands,  
The Arts shall not more crown him, than Your Hands.   

ΤΕΧΝΟΓΑΜΙΑ: OR The Marriages of the Arts.  

ACTVS I.  

SCENA I.  


GEOGRAPHUS ,in a white Beaver, with a white and green Feather, a little Band, a light-coloured Satin suit, embroidered Gloves, red-silk Stockings, blue Garters and Roses, white Pumps, a Cloak whereon was described the terrestrial Globe in two Hemispheres, and on the Cape the two Poles.  
ASTRONOMIA ,in an azure Gown, and a Mantle seeded with stars; on her head a Tiara, bearing on the front the seven stars, and behind, stars promiscuously; on the right side the Sun, on the left the Moon, in Gloves, and white Pumps.  
PHANTASTES ,In a branched velvet jerkin with hanging sleeves buttoned and looped, a short pair of Breeches, a green Cloak with silver lace, lined through with velvet, red-silk Stockings, particoloured Garters, a low-crowned Hat with broad brims, with a peacock's feather in it, in a yellow Band, Gloves, and red Pumps.    
GEOGRAPHUS, ASTRONOMIA, PHANTASTES.  
PHANTASTES, leave us.  Phant. 
I might very well be here, Sir, at a-wooing match; but, I go: yet I will not be far off. Exit.  Geog. 
Come, now you shall, Astronomia.  Astron. 
What shall I, Geographus?  Geog. 
Kiss.  Astron. 
What? o' spite of my teeth?  Geog. 
No not so, I hope you do not use to kiss with your teeth.  Astron. 
Marry and I hope I do not use to kiss without them.  Geog. 
ay, but (my fine Wit-catcher) I mean you do not Show your teeth when you kiss:— 't is thy ambrosiac lip (sweet Nymph) which thus I salute after the fine French— thus, He kisses Astron. the gracious Spanish,— (hold still) thus the slavering Dutch— (nay, I will) and thus the devouring Italian fashion— I'm a Courtier sweet Nymph, I'm a Courtier; pardon my (you know the Court-humor) boldness.  Astron. 
What? is't the Court humour then to kiss a Maid out of breath?  Geog. 
No, sweet chuck, but to kiss them In breath; to make them long-breathed in kissing, and able to endure a Smothering and Revive again.  Astron. 
Faith for my part Sir Courtier, than I am not acquainted with a long breath; though, I think, they that use kissing much, are acquainted with long breaths, for, I warrant them, they may be smelled far enough off.  Geog. 
Come, my Heaven, I must take off your Zone; shall Astronomia be in girt with a Zone, and not Geographus? especially since all we Lovers live under Zona torrida.  Astron. 
If it be So Sir, than I pray you keep you there still; for My Zone, I'll assure you, as yet is a Temperate one; pardon me Sir, Ungirt Unblessed: if I am not Fast, I'm Loose, untie the Heavens and take away their Zones, we should have brave Sky-falling.  
Geog. ay, and brave Lark-catching, (pretty Bird) ah! were they all such as Thee, it should be my First wish.  Astron. 
I perceive Sir, than you Courtiers are ready to take a Maid at the Fall; Well Sir, but let go your hand from my girdle, he that has that, shall have me and all.  Geog. 
With all my heart (my double soul) I have Already travelled over the whole Earth, and am now again in Travel to be Delivered of a second Attempt, the Peregrination of the Heavens; which to effect, I know no more expedite Course, than to have Recourse to Astronomia.  Astron. 
Pray le be; be Modest yet; I think you'll force me to say be Honest, leave, or I'll Cry.  Geog. 
ay, but I'll make you Laugh.  Astron. 
Nay, pray you, be not Elephantine; I suppose you have been in India, and pierce the Phrase.  Geog. 
Nay, but Nymph, Won't you then?  Astron. 
Won't I? what?  Geog. 
be kind.  Astron. 
be kind? how?  Geog. 
(The plague of Lovers! crossing in the point; He espies Physica entering .Yonder comes thy mother Physica) why be kind as she has been.  Astron. 
Marry—  Geog. 
It may be she won't consent.  Astron. 
O Sir, your apprehension it too nimble; I was saying, marry gracious are the Fates, to deliver a Maid from the violence of a Ravisher.  Geog. 
Nay, good love, He speaks this drawing back to depart .think this but an exiliency of my affection, or rather think not out at all, but only (O my Venus lipped) of this Wooers modest kiss, that is but lent till the next meeting: but farewell, I see thy Mother's aged brow wrinkled already; and I had rather again undertake my performed journey about the World, than thou shouldst be shent for me; once more farewell, Geographus his Astronomia. Exit Geographus.  Astron. 
I must behave myself now as demurely, as a Gentlewoman when she's eating an Egg, well I'll prevent her, and go meet Her, or else she will be Meet with Me.   

ACTVS I. SCENA II.  


PHYSICA with a Cornet on her head, bearing on the front a Woman with two Children sucking at her breasts, and a CERES Horn passing up between her arms; round about on the border of her Coronet were Beasts and Trees; in a loose-bodied Gown of green branched Taffeta, in Gloves and White Pumps.    
ASTRONOMIA, PHYSICA.  
FOrsooth, and 't please you—  Physica. 
Who was that?  Astron. 
And please you forsooth it was—  Physica. 
ay, who was it? that's the question I ask.  Astron. 
It was forsooth and please you—  Physica. 
Yes, it pleases me to know, though I fear when I do know it will scarce please me.  Astron. 
Why then forsooth since it pleases you—  Physica. 
Oh, is the excuse made now?  Astron. 
Alas forsooth, I was coming o' mine accord, to tell you forsooth.  Physica. 
Well, now I hope forsooth, so many forsooths have made up one excuse by this time.  Astron. 
It was forsooth—.  Physica. 
Yet again?  Astron. 
My Uncle Ethicus.  Physica. 
That came to teach you manners belike, and that's the reason you use so many mannerly forsooths.  Astron. 
No forsooth, he came to invite me to his House to a Banquet.  Physica. 
To a Banquet? Indeed you are better fed than taught.  Astron. 
And marvelled that you and I were so great strangers at his house.  Physica. 
Nay, that's not strange, nowadays, for the nearer kin, the farther off in friendship, and therefore the greater strangers.  Astron. 
But I promised, for myself, my oftener presence hereafter, and bid Ethicus persuade himself, that though you did not come to him in person, yet that your love and best Affections dwelled always with him; and I did my best to make part of an excuse for you.  Physica. 
As you do now for yourself: but Minion do you expect a thank of me, for your excuse? I believe rather, you'll stand more in need of an excuse yourself; it seems your are well skilled in the framing of them. What? who bid you put on this apparel today? you must be in your sky-coloured Gown every day, in your best apparel holidays and working-days: and had you never a worse head-tire to put on today but this with coloured Ribbons tied like Stars? but, Minion, the mystery of the truth; come, I must know it: Does your Uncle Ethicus look o' that fashion? is he a Courtier? a Traveller? a Puppet? does he make himself a verier Fool than the Tailor makes him? has he a jury of Nations come in to give their verdict, for the making up of one suit of apparel for him? is he for your long Hat, short Cloak, little Band? are his old hams grown supple again? is he for your knee-congee? the throwing of a wavering head off his shoulders in a salutation? or the breaking of his high-heeled Shoes, or (which is better) sometimes of his crazy legs, when in a wanton pride they cannot stand upon his giddy feet? you'd make a fine creature of your Uncle; but, my fine Minion, my Periphrasis has encircled your companion, as his arms did your middle even now: you apprehend? ah Astronomia, thy face was never made for the colouring of a lie; oh how this one untruth has Eclipsed thy beauty? thou never receivedst such a vile Nature from thy Mother Physica: no; no; I know from whom this corruption proceeds; 'tis that false, that vile Astrologia, that infects thee thus, and whom I observe, still to follow at thy heels: but I fret mine old age too much, which is enough anguish to itself: in, in you light housewife—. Exeunt.   

ACTVS I. SCENA III.  


geometre's in a coloured Hat ascending in a Pyramidal form, with a Square in it in stead of a Feather, in a light-coloured suit of Satin, a ruff-band, a Cloak whereon were described divers Geometrical Instruments, and a man taking the height of a Tower with a jacob's Staff; in blue-silk Stockings, Garters, Roses, Gloves, and white Pumps.  
MAGUS in a black suit with a triple Crown on his head, beset with Crosses, and other Magical Characters; in black Shoes, with a white wand in his hand.    
GEOMETRES, MAGUS.  
LEt geometre's never use Measure more, if he loves not his dearest Magus beyond measure: Oh, the Gods! that you and I could never know one another before! but First it should be my luck to be acquainted with Astronomia, Then with yourself! Sir, if your occasions can make use of my best endeavours, the employment shall be a favour: if at any time you want any Characters, and strange Figures for your Circles, or Circles themselves, for the confining of your Spirits, know Sir, They shall not be more obedient unto You, than My officious gratitude, employ Me Sir, I protest I'm grown Infinite in love with the fairest Astronomia, with yourself.  Magus. 
Sir, let me never use my Great Art more, if my love to You be not greater than my Art: the Spirits that I Command, shall not be so quick in my Ambassages, as the Spirit of my Love, in the effecting your desires, t's as my Circle, most capacious and without End.  Geom. 
Well, Sir: I need not then you think to fear Geographus; for indeed though he be proud, yet I am sure Astronomia is much more high-minded: and yet were her Altitude as high as Heaven, could not I Measure it? besides what can she count of him, but as of a giddy fellow, whose Head is Guided by his Heels? but for Me, it is well known, I have the Rule of myself: indeed there's Poeta, him I fear, for he plays at his Mistress with his Hexameter, and Pentameter, as a Fencer lies at his Rapier and Dagger-foil; but from Him you say you'll Ward me.  Magus. 
I warrant you Sir, as securely as with an Enchanted shield: (and now Sir to Descend to Realities) I will briefly acquaint you with some of the Mysteries of our Sacred Science; and first with this. There are three ways, by one of which your desire may be effected, the first is Fascination; the second Conjuration, and the third Medicine. The first can be wrought only by opportunity, by being in company with Astronomia.  Geom. 
Alas! that's the Unmeasurable Depth of my grief, for I can never almost get into her company, but yet Sir acquaint me with the device that I may not lose occasion it offered.  Magus. 
I will Sir; This Fascination is, when one does work love in a woman by looking on her.  Geom. 
But is that possible?  Magus. 
O, Sir, in a moderate sort very familiar; I have known a man and a woman by an earnest looking one upon another, when they fell in love, both become stark blind.  Geom. 
Strange! Wonderful! but if that should happen me, how should I enjoy the sight of her beauty?  Magus. 
Sir, my care shall exempt you from that fear; but to unfold unto you the manner of this admirable operation—  Geom. 
I Sir, I desire to know what Proportion it can bear with truth.  Magus. 
It is thus: The instrument of fascination is a vapour pure, and subtle, arising from the heat of the heart, out of the purer blood, which through the eyes doth project beams like itself; those beams do carry with them a pure vapour, which sometimes carrieth with it blood, (as we see in blear-eyed folks, who hurt by looking on) which being ejaculated upon the eyes of a woman (being sent forth with a labouring violence) enter into her eye, pierce her heart, infect the blood and Spirits, then by a continuance of the ejaculation, produce an assimilation in the object.  Geom. 
Sir, this is Deep; but is this Rule infallible?  Magus. 
There are a sort of your Philosophers that deny this; but (alas!) unexperienced fellows, that never went beyond the Circle of their Science; but we men of practice correct and surpass the narrow bounds of their empty Speculations: and now Sir for the guarding of yourself, and the more powerful operation, I will furnish you with an Unction of Doves, or Sparrows blood.  Geom. 
Dove, nor Sparrow is so hot, as my love to you, dearest Magus: but you made mention of a second, Conjuration.  Magus. 
Sir, by that I can present unto you, your love.  Geom. 
Presently?  Magus. 
Presently.  Geom. 
Will you?  Magus. 
What will I not for you?  Geom. 
I am yours Soul and Body.  Magus. 
Well, stay you here then, I'll but step forth. Exit.  Geom. 
That ever thou wast borne! that ever thou wast borne, Divine Magus! well, the Devil take me if I do not turn Magician, He puts on a cypress Suit, then puts Geometres into a Circle which he brings forth and spreads; then goes into it himself, with a white rod in his hand, which he waves 4. ways. whatever it cost me. O Astronomia!—  Magus. 
Come, Sir, stand you here, and move not beyond this Circle, and speak not a word; and now prepare yourself to be satisfied with the beauty of your Love.  
Bael, Agares, Marbas, Pruflas.  
Loray, Valefar, Morax, Naberus. At the end of each of these four names is made a great noise within, like thunder.  Geom. 
Good Magus leave off, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, I shall never be able to endure.  Magus. 
Classialabolas—  Geom. 
Oh, I'll cry out if ye won't leave. Magus stops Geometres's mouth, and speaks on.  Magus. 
Amduscias, Zagan, Elauros, Orobas.  Geom. 
Oh, I shall—  Magus. 
Hagaenti, Vual, Zaleos.  Geom. 
I cannot endure it, oh I cannot endure it. Geometres falls down, thrusting his head between Magus his feet, and covering his face with his hands.  Magus. 
What a fainthearted Lover is this? I must send them away again, before they are come.  
Va, Va, Va, Acim, Acim, Acim,  
Ei, Ei, Ei: Hau, Hau, Hau.  
Procul hinc, procul ite profani; redite, redite. Come, Sir, will you rise to see your Love?  Geom. 
Is she gone yet?  Magus. 
Why? Do you love her so well, that you would have her gone?  Geom. 
Oh! I cannot endure it.  Magus. 
Not endure her? Marry you love her well then 'tis likely. Geometres rises.  Geom. 
Well, I beseech you, Sir, fall to your last remedy, Medicine: for this is intolerable.  Magus. 
Well, Sir, that does not belong to you.  Geom. 
No? why? Must not I take Physic to make her fall in love with me?  Magus. 
No, geometre's: what device dost thou think should be in that?  Geom. 
Nay alas I can't tell, I do but ask; come I pray, let's be gone hence, I cannot endure to stay here, we'll talk further of this in some other place. Good Magus, let me hold by you till we are gone a pretty way hence.  Magus. 
Come, you're a brave Mars for a Venus! Exeunt.   

ACTVS I. SCENA IIII.  


ASTROLOGIA ,in a Loose-bodied Gown of Red-branched Velvet; a dark starry Mantle, in a Tiera beset with dim stars, in the front of which was described the Scheme of a Nativity; on the two sides the Sun and Moon Eclipsed, in Gloves and black Pumps.  
ARITHMETICA ,in a green Gown of Silk; on her head a Coronet, bearing in the front a Table of Multiplication, and round about the border, the nine radical Figures, and a Cipher; in Gloves and white Pumps.  
MUSICA ,in a Waistcoat and petticoat of Red-branched Velvet; in a Coronet bearing in the front the Table of the gamut, with the first six Musical notes, ascending, and descending; and above that a Bagpipe and a Harp; bearing on the border divers other Instruments; and on the top of two Arches, rising from the circle of the Coronet, was expressed Fame sounding a Trumpet; in Gloves and white Pumps.    
ASTRONOMIA, ASTROLOGIA, ARITHMETICA, MUSICA.  
COme, Lasses: i'faith I have been arraigned, condemned and executed, without holding up my hand at a Bar.  Astrol. 
Why? Didst thou ever offend the Heavens in thy life, Astronomia?  Astron. 
No. But it seems I have offended Nature; for I'm sure my mother Physica has poured out her affection toward me.  Astrol. 
As how, I prithee?  Astron. 
Nay, I have been held upon her Items: Item, for being in company with Geographus: Item, for being in company with Astrologia—  Astrol. 
With me?  Astron. 
Item, for wearing my best clothes every day: Alas, alas, does my Mother think All Nature's desire the same things? It pleaseth Her in Summer to wear one kind of garment; in Winter another; in Autumn and Spring as different: another perhaps would count this pride in her: I wear always the same, which methinks her age (but that, Age is froward) might interpret, as a threefold virtue, Humility, Thrift, and Constancy: but—  Astrol. 
Oh! I can easily guess why she speaks against me: I perceive all eminency of gifts is attended on by envy: but tush, Old— I say no worse: let her chide the gods that gave me my Foreknowledge of things above her apprehension: believe me, I saw this great contention before, in the present Conjunction of Saturn and Mars: But for Geographus, I would wish your Height of worth, Astronomia, would not Descend unto his Baseness.  Astron. 
You abuse me, Astrologia: baseness?  Astrol. 
Nay, than I perceive there is somewhat of fate in love; and that the Stars do not rule men, but men the Stars; why there's no Proportion of worth between him and geometre's, a man cut out by the very Square of all virtue.  Arithm. 
ay, and let Arithmetica be cast out of the Number of the Sciences; if in his very face (I speak it freely behind his back) appear not to my eye the very Figure of sincerity.  Astron. 
Alas! would you Parallel geometre's with Geographus? you may as well liken the Middle of the Earth to the whole Circumference: or, but some Angle to a whole Map.  Arithm. 
Nay, you are the whole Heaven-wide, Astronomia, on the contrary part; for though geometre's think there be too great Disparity between him and me, and that Arithmetica stands now but for a Cipher in his account; yet, that conceit of his shall never make a Fraction or Division in my love, but as he was once mine Entire, so shall I ever hold it the golden Rule of friendship, rather to Add unto, then subtract from my first affection: but let us not multiply words: Musica, prithee what dost thou think of this?  Musica. 
Truly, I think Geographus to be a liberal Gentleman, and therefore may not consent unto Astrologia, when she calls him base, yet I think he has some Crotchets now and then of a traveler: and for geometre's, I take him for a plain Solid fellow: but in my conceit, in his discourse he's somewhat obtuse, blunt, blunt.  Arithm. 
ay, that's but thy conceit.  Musica. 
Indeed I must confess I have more conceit than judgement: But in my fancy, there's Poeta, Poeta and Melancholico begin to Enter. h'as more love in's little finger, than both they in their whole bodies.  Astron. 
Marry thou sayst true, for I think there he is indeed. Come, let's begone; for I think every one now a Spy: for my mother told me she'd set more Eyes beside Musicas to attend me hereafter: but Musica, do thou turn that way and meet him, that if he be one, I may know whom to thank for my mother's next kind salutation.  Exeunt Astron. Astrol. Arith.  

ACTVS I. SCENA V.  


POETA ,in a black Satin Suit, a jerkin with hanging sleeves buttoned together behind, a black Beaver, with a garland of bays about it, a ruff-band, in yellow silk Stockings, black silk Garters tied across, black Roses, Gloves, & white Pumps.  
MELANCHOLICO ,in a black Suit, a black Hat, a black Cloak wrapped about his shoulders, a black-work Band, black Gloves, and black Shoes.    
MUSICA, POETA, MELANCHOLICO.  
FA, la, la, la, la, Sol, la, mi, fa.  Poeta. 
How now my Treble, my Minikin, art thou so pleasant?  Musica. 
Oh sir, I see you keep your old Tenor still: you are always Descanting.  Poeta. 
But my little Fidde, where hast thou been?  Musica. 
Sounding your Harmonious virtues, to a Consort of Ladies.  Poeta. 
Mine? If I had not called thee my Fiddle before, I might now call thee my Trumpet, but I will yet call thee my Pipe, my Syrinx, a piece of Pan's Reed: but prithee, sirrah, who were they? O Melancholico! here's a Wench, if her Mistress would part with her, would make thee live one seven years longer, but to be in her company.  Mel. 
'Tis a merry Wench indeed.  Musica. 
Why, there was my Lady, with Astrologia, and Arithmetica.  Poeta. 
Thy Lady? Indeed I have heard thy Lady loves Music well, and for that respect I have had a conceit to Her myself.  Musica. 
A conceit? Well, I can't stay or else I could say more.  Poeta. 
Hold her, Melancholico, she shall not begone yet.  Musica. 
Why how now Sir? Faith, Poeta, your man looks as if he would fall in love with me. Fa, la, la, la, la, sol, la, mi, fa.  Poeta. 
Nay, prithee Musica, tell me how thou camest to attend on Astronomia first.  Musica. 
Alas, 'tis beyond my remembrance to tell that: only I have heard a certain Philosopher that was in love with Astronomia, bestowed me upon her when I was but a child: but I'm sure she entertains me so well, that I care for no other service now under Heaven, she's a Divine Lady, A Divine Lady, and since my coming thither, she has made rare devices, rare devices to cause Harmony: but I must be gone, I can't stay. Fa, la, la, la, la, sol, la, mi, fa. Exit.  Mel. 
'Tis a merry Wench.  Poeta. 
But a Divine Lady! but a Divine Lady! I cannot tell what ails me, but I am not very well. Follow me in, Melancholico.  Mel. 
I follow, Sir. Exeunt.   

ACTVS I. SCENA. VI.  
GEOGRAPHUS, PHANTASTES.  
WHat should I cry out now against the iniquity of the Fates, for wrapping up all in blind Fortune, and for the unequal distribution of their gifts? I have indeed been about all the world, and brought home nothing but a World of care. I could cry, I confess, but that I can't find in my heart to be such a fool, unless my tears would turn to gold, as those of Phaeton's sisters did to Amber; and then i'faith I'd turn a most devout penitent: but, Phantastes, put up the Siquis, put up the Siquis.  Phant. 
I will, I will.  Geogr. 
Faith I'm almost extracted, I'm come to the Mercury already; there's nothing left but my wits: but what if I can get no customers now?  Phant. 
Faith you had best turn Paper-man, & sell Maps; and yet that trade is almost down the wind now: or you may get a pretty young— one— and set up a tobacco-shop.  Geogr. 
Foh! that's a stinking trade.  Phant. 
Oh your fattest soils are most full of dirt; and I have known a fellow, that was not worth a hair of his head, nay, that had not an hair of an honest man, gather more gold out of this dunghill, then ever Maro did out of his Ennius; that now he cares not for any man in the Parish: Oh! this is the trade that yields è fumo fulgorem; Gold out of smoke.  Geogr. 
Oh, Astronomia! there's my chiefest grief, I confess; for as 'tis held policy in rich men to love; so I fear it will prove ridiculous in me, if once I grow poor.  Phant. 
Sir, not many years since, before I undertook with you our journey about the wide world, I was myself driven to the like straits; I mean, Sir, in that Cod-piece-ago, when the innocency of men did not blush to show all that Nature gave them, indeed, because they did no more, then, that taught them: then, when they wore doublets with craws, and sleeves with pockets, then (I say) the fashion was so long at a stand, that I had like to have been at a fall: than your Philosopher in the University, scorned nothing but (the unjust cause of scorn) fine apparel, showing the severity of his profession, by the ruggedness of his gown: but since, I think, I have fashioned them all; though, of late, some of your gorbellied country-chuffs, have cast themselves into their frieze jerkins, with great tinned buttons silvered o'er, rather out of a proud niggardliness than an honest thrift.  Geogr. 
Well, but what course shall I take, if I get money?  Phant. 
marry, Sir, this: wear apparel of the best, be merry, wanton, toying, bold; affront any man: get a faire-false-diamond— on your finger, and by all means have a gilt watch, which sometimes, to know how the day passes, you must draw out in the Marketplace, though peradventure there be a Clock hard by within the view of your eye; 'twill imply, you reckon not your day by the people's Dial: or sometimes you may draw it forth before a rich man's door, (you know in our travails we observed the like in a Gentleman at Venice) and assure yourself, at the next meeting, he'll give you the salutation.  Geogr. 
Oh! thou hast a rare wit, my fine Phantastes! well, let's commit it to the heavens, and if my stars bless me but to obtain Astronomia; I'll count it as an enjoying of the whole world, which I have yet but seen. Exeunt Geographus & Phantastes.   

ACTVS I. SCENA VII.  
POETA, MELANCHOLICO.  
ANd did she not say, Melancholico, she was a divine Lady?  Mel. 
Yes, she did.  Poet. 
And did she not say she had made rare devices, rare devices (for she repeated it) to cause Harmony?  Mel. 
Yes, she did.  Poet. 
Fa, la, la, la, la, sol, la, mi, fa, hum— and did she not say she would not change her service for any under Heaven?  Mel. 
Yes, she did.  Poet. 
Hum. And did she not say she could say more?  Mel. 
Yes, she did.  Poet. 
Fa, la, la, la, la, sol, la, mi, fa, pretty little Musica! Fa, la, la, la, la, sol, la, mi, fa, for she sung it three times I remember, pretty Musica; divine Astronomia!— the juice of the God's Nepenthe were vinegar to one of her kisses: divine Astronomia!  
Unjust, blind god of love, or not enfire  
My breast; or, if thou dost, crown my desire. Poeta sees the Siquis, and Mel. takes it down .What Siquis is that?  Mel. 
I'll read it, Sir.  
If there be any Gentleman, that, for the accomplishing of his natural endowments, entertains a desire of learning the languages, especially, the nimble French, majest-like Spanish, courtly Italian, masculine Dutch, happily-compounding Greek, mystical Hebrew, and physical Arabic; or that is otherwise transported with the admirable knowledge of foreign policies, complemental behaviour, natural dispositions, or whatsoever else belongs to any people or country under heaven; he shall, to his abundant satisfaction, be made happy in his expectation and success, if he please to repair to the sign of the Globe.  Poet. 
Good, good; I'll monopolize this commodity; Logicus and Grammaticus enter. Poeta tears the Siquis. when I shall have so many tongues to woo, I will not doubt to obtain Astronomia.   

ACTVS I. SCENA VIII.  


LOGICUS ,In a wide-sleeved gown, and a square cap, etc.  
GRAMMATICUS ,In a pair of breeches close to his thigh, his stockings gartered above knee: a sharp-crowned hat with the sides pinned up; a ruff-band; and a Ferula at his back, etc.    
POETA, MELANCHOLICO, LOGICUS, GRAMMATICUS.  Gram. 
SIr, you did that by a Poetica licentia.  Poet. 
SO, Grammaticus, you'd fain Rule me still:— Et nos ergo manum ferulae subduximus.  Logic. 
Nay, Poeta, you must not abuse him that hath been your Master, he hath been your Master, Ergo, you must not abuse him.  Poet. 
Why, how now, Logicus? will you be the Neptune, to calm these Seas with your three-forked Mace? I thought you could spit nothing but Aristotle.  Gram. 
Aristotle? saucy boy? Aristotelis libri sunt omne genus elegantia referti; pro Omnis generis.  Logic. 
Nay, Poeta, we must grant you the eloquence: Nobis non licet esse tam disertis disertos.  Poet. 
Why how, no, Logicus? hast thou caught the itch of Grammaticus? I should rather have thought, thou wouldst have infected him.  Gram. 
How now? boys talk? by the soul of Priscian, A praeceptore vapulabis.  Poet. 
Nay, then i'faith: A trepido vix abstinetira Magistro.  Gram. 
Poeta and Gram. fight .What? insolent? Faciam vt meique ac huius diei, ac loci, semper memineris.  Poet. 
Melancholico, do thou crack an argument with clog-head, there.  Mel. 
Logicus and Melancholico fight .I'll do my best to crack his pate, if I can.  Logic. 
He bites, he bites: O, do you scratch, you coward?  Mel. 
Yes, Sir, because you have the itch.  Poet. 
To him, Melancholico.  Mel. 
They part .Nay, let me alone, I warrant you: we are at it, tooth and nail.  Gram. 
Well, Poeta, Refero ad Senatum.  Poet. 
Will you come again, Sir!  Gram. 
Non si me obsecres. Exit.  Poet. 
I believe thee, i'faith; Logicus, will you return?  Logic. 
I see no reason for it: Ergo, I won't. Exit.  Poet. 
O, have we broke off one of the forks of your Mace? he most valiantly now runs away upon two feet: Stay, here comes Choler, Grammaticus his man.  Enter CHOLER in a yellow cloak, a yellow suit, on the breast whereof were expressed two fellows wrestling; in a yellow hat; bearing a fist with a club in't: yellow stockings, yellow pumps, etc. Choler. 
Who was that ran away last there? Logicus?  Mel. 
Yes.  Choler. 
Did you beat him?  Mel. 
Yes.  Choler. 
And who was the other? my Master?  Poet. 
Yes  Choler. 
Did you beat him?  Poet. 
Yes, Sir: what say you to that?  Choler. 
What say I to that? marry, I say, I would have fought as long as I could have stood, if you had not left beating of my Master.  Poet. 
Oh! is that all! Domini similis es; farewell, valiant Champion.  Mel. 
Oh! is that all? Domini similis es; farewell, valiant Champion. Exeunt Poeta & Melancholico.  Choler. 
How? baffled? by my masters Ferula, I'll quarrel with the next man I meet, who ere he be: and yonder comes Sanguis, Medicus his man; but he looks as if he would say somewhat; I'll therefore stand aside first, and hear what he'll say.   

ACTVS I. SCENA IX.  


SANGVIS ,in a red suit; on the breast whereof was a man with his nose bleeding; on the back, one let blood in the arm; in a red hat, red band, stockings, red pumps, etc.    
SANGVIS, CHOLER.  
MY Master is now in a consumption; he is come to putting up a Siquis already for want of custom; and if he had not lately been more beholding to Venus then to Mars, he had been quite spent, long ere this: She indeed now and then sends him in, those customers that are sick in her quarters; for most men now prevent physic, either by death or wariness; either by running upon violent and quick deaths, and so dying ere physic comes; or if they fall out, never coming to bloodshed, but only to a few foolish words in their idle choler.  Chol. 
What? does he speak of me? nay, that's enough.  Sang. 
But I'll put up my Siquis and pray most devoutly to Aesculapius, or else my Master will be the first that will have so much need of his own physic, as Salus herself will be scarce able to save him.  Chol. 
Soft, Sir, did not you misuse me, behind my back?  Sang. 
Misuse thee? alas! I thought not on thee.  Chol. 
No! did not you say, Idle Choler? Choler strikes Sanguis .you shall know I am not idle.  Sang. 
Why, how now Choler, are you so hot?  Chol. 
Yes, Sanguis, as hot as you for your blood.  Sang. 
I shall be about your ears, straight.  Chol. 
They fight, and Choler breaks Sanguis his head .I shall vex all the veins in your heart then.  Sang. 
O, my head! my head's broke.  Chol. 
'Tis no matter, Sanguis; there's custom for thy Master, beyond his expectation.  Sang. 
And beyond mine too; I'll pray no more this good while for this trick; the gods are quick of hearing, I perceive; Aesculapius has sent my Master a patient too soon, but the gods know 'tis a sorry one; but I shall remember you, Choler. Exit.  Chol. 
Do, do; I gave you a remembrance on purpose; but, what had the Rogue in this Siquis? I'll put it together again.  
If there be any man woman, or child, that's affected with any disease, whether it be luxation or dislocation of the bones, rupture, inflammation, obstruction, impostumation, consumption, or any ulcer, whether it be pox, plague, or pestilence, or any destruction of nature, as dumbness, deafness, blindness, whether temporary and by accident, or continued from the birth; or whatsoever disease incident to the body of man, that hath been ever yet counted uncurable; may it please him, or her, or that child, to repair to the sign of the Urinal, and they shall find a speedy salvation.  
Why? do not I know Medicus? and did I ever know that he knew this before? well, he that performs all this, must be a god or a devil: but now I think on't better, I'm half sorry I broke Sanguis his head; for if my Master be hurt, he must repair to this Medicus; and then will Sanguis either pay my Master for my sake; or make my Master pay me for his sake: I see, he that strikes in his choler, doth but repent afterwards; well, I'll correct his hastiness of nature. Exit.    

ACTVS II.  

SCENA I.  


POLITES ,In a black gown, a black Satin suit, a black beaver with a gold hatband; with a white staff in his hand, etc.  
ETHICUS ,In a black hat with broad brims, a long grey beard, a coat with velvet lace, hanging-sleeves, and broad skirts, a pair of trunk-hose with panes, with a velvet pouch by his side, in a ruff band, his garters tied above knee: with a walking staff in his hand.  
OECONOMA ,In a black close-bodied gown, a ruff, a broad brimmed hat, a white apron, etc.  
HISTORIA ,In a green gown of branched velvet, a laced ruff, on her head a coronet, about the border whereof stood the nine Worthies, and on the top of two cross arches arising from the circle of the coronet stood Time, an old man with a long beard, at his feet lay a scythe, holding in one hand a crown, in the other a whip: in gloves and white pumps.  
RHETORICA ,In a green silk gown a laced ruff, wearing on her head a coronet, the border whereof was beset with red and white roses, in the front was expressed a garland of bays with a palm of a band in the midst, and round about the border, above the roses, were described palms of hands, in gloves, and white pumps.    
POLITES, ETHICUS, OECONOMA, HISTORIA, RHETORICA.  
WEll, Historia, I see love's unruly even in the wisest; you may do what you will; but if you would be ruled by your friends, my counsel should be that you would never fancy this Poeta, a fellow of that kind of profession, which all Wise men have ever banished out of the commonwealth, as being the Mother of lies, the Nurse of abuse, and at the Best, but the worst of knowledge; perhaps you may think Polites uses this dissuasion because Poeta's poor; (which also I confess in the Policy of an ordinary Discretion is to be considered) but I profess I'm chiefly moved at the uncertainty of his courses; which I think would not very aptly consort with your sober consistency and staidness of life: but I'll say no more; good Ethicus, supply my room.  Histor. 
Reverend Polites—  Ethic. 
Nay, nay—  Rhetor. 
Nay? nay? nay truly Ethicus, 'tis good manners, to let her answer in her own defence.  Ethic. 
Nay, Rhetorica, we know you have words at will; every woman has two tongues, and you have four, 'twill come to a fine pass in a while, if we suffer every young pert thing to be prachant, especially towards their elders, I may be thy father, wench, and I will speak. Thou art a greenhead, Historia; I say that Poeta's a licentious fellow, a Drinker, a Dicer, a Wencher, a balladmaker, a Seducer of young minds, a Scoffer, a libeler, a Sharker, an Humorist, an Epicure; proud, fantastical, sullen, slothful, lewd, irreligious, and in a word an enemy to all the Gods and Virtues.  Histor. 
Ha' you done? you have stuck cloves enough in your Orange to make it smell.  Ethic. 
He speaks to Rhetorica. Nay, thou wench, I like thee better, though thou hast a shrewd Tongue: for thou hast set thine affection upon Logicus, a fellow of some understanding, and though he has some of thy fault (as a piece of thy tongue) yet 'tis likely he'll make a good Housekeeper; he's thrifty, thrifty, and I like that.  Oecon. 
Historia walks aside, and Oecon, takes her by the arm .Nay, pray Historia, take Oeconoma's counsel, or (at least) hear it, I'll speak moderately.  Histor. 
I shall the rather hear you then.  Oecon. 
Indeed I think that Poeta will never prove a good housekeeper; for he must have nothing (unless it be himself) out of Order in his house; but every thing forsooth so neat, so trim, as if folks had nothing to do but wait upon his humorous sloth: but we that keep houses (by cock a'py) must ha' room for baking, brewing, spinning, carding, washing, wringing, starching, setting, sleeking, pinning, folding, smoothing; here a chair, there a tub; here a pan, there a kettle; here a wheel, there a reel; and a hundred such clutterments.  Histor. 
It seems you keep a cleanly house; but I pray, how long have you been married?  Oecon. 
Married? why, thirty five years last Valentine's day; next Valentine's day 'twill be— just as can be— thirty six years full, blessed be the day when it comes.  Histor. 
You may then indeed have forgot love-sports by this time; well, you are not angry with me for hearing you? are you?  Oecon. 
No.  Historia. 
Why then, I must pray you likewise that you will not be offended, if I do not follow what I hear.  Oecon. 
Well, you may (if you will) let your own young head guide you; fare you well, fare you well Shrews; I'll pray, that you may have good Housekeepers to your Husbands.  Polites. 
And I, that you may have good Citizens.  Ethicus. 
And I, that you may have Honest men: farewell Shrews. Exeunt Polites, Ethicus, Oeconoma.  Historia. 
Fare you well; you have had a time to love and woo, and so must we have. These old folks think their Old Age must carry it away, as if they had won as clear a Victory from us, as can be; alas! I'll give them leave to use their Dead Precepts, but if they once come to lively Examples, I'll undertake myself to convince their best Experience. Poeta's love indeed of late is much alienated from me, but as long I love him, I'll speak in his defence; did you see how Polites did only speak an Accusation against him? and Ethicus Abuse his froward Age; and Oeconoma Chafe out her weak conjecture? and then, (when they had rather showed the Weakness of their Age; then the Strength of their Reason,) flung away, as if their Objections could not be Answered, because they would not Hear an Answer. I would inquire of Polites (if my Ancestors have not misinformed me in Antiquity) whether in the Time of Herodotus, and after that, of Zenophon (and since of many others) there has not been a like conjunction to Poeta's and Historia's; and whether your chiefest Common-wealths-men, either of Former times as Plato; or of Later, as the great Solon of the Utopian Commonwealth, have not made a Poetical invention their chiefest glory? but there is no discoursing with Age; especially, when it is possessed with a perverse prejudice.  Rhetorica. 
And did you mark with what a Strength of Heat, his Cold Feebleness set upon me? and I was Mistress Tongue; and I was Nimble-tongued, and I had four tongues. But if the Eye of Age be not so Dim, but that it may Reflect upon itself: if the Ear of Age be not so Perverse, but that it may Admit a free Attention; if the Reason of Age, will but yield to Reason; then shall his Eye, his Ear, his Reason, bring in their several informations against his Age. If we should inquire with whom does reside the most refined Expolition of Language; would it be answered with Old-folks? if we should inquire with whom does abide the most nimble vigour of purest Apprehension; would it be answered with old-folks? if we should inquire who are most tried for Quick Dispatch of weighty Affairs, would it be answered your old-folks? whose Age brings Care, Care Weakness, Weakness frowardness, Frowardness Distraction, Distraction Childishness: and thus running Round in the Circle of Time, growing Giddy, they fall down upon all four again, like Children: Children I may call them for their Impotency, not innocency: for their Perverseness, not Hopefulness; for their Impatience, not Tenderness; for then would they afford a more Tender censure, of our more Tender loves: but let's be gone, and though they Chide, yet will we Love; and I will sooner confess my Tongue to want Eloquence, than my Love of Logicus to want Reason.  Historia. 
And I will truly acknowledge Historia Unhappy in her love, but never Poeta, unworthy of her love. Exeunt.   

ACTVS II. SCENA II.  
CHOLER solus.  
I Perceive yet I am not so Hasty-natured, but there be some as Hasty; why, I would have sworn Logicus had been a fellow of Reason and very stayed, but (Heaven defend me) I almost quake to think what a thundering he kept, when he came to my Master's House, one while he would Fight with Poeta, that he would; then he would have him in the Law, then again he would Fight with him, then again he would go to Law with him; at the last he resolves to do both, though I know not whether he will Perform either: if he go to Law; my Master (in Policy) will let his Own cause fall, to come in as a Witness for Logicus; but i' the mean time I must serve for a Messenger to Carry this Challenge from Logicus to Poeta; which I must see, that if I have occasion to send one to Sanguis, I may know how to draw Blood of him, before we e'er come into the Field; let's see.  
O Poeta, thou Poeta, base Nail-biter, Desk-thumper, Head-scratcher: O Poeta, thou Poeta; the very Bottle-Ale of frothy Humour, and, the floating Cork of Spongy Vanity; since thou hast (though not per te, but, per alium) by thy man Melancholico, (but woe to thy man Melancholico!) with most audacious and injurious indignity flown up into my face (but, oh dreadful flying up into my face!) know, if thou dost not make thy peace with me, by a reconciling submission (which you may do, and I had rather you should do, than fight. I never provoked you) I do to thy perdition (O speedy perdition! think upon that, and let me not fight, I do not provoke you) challenge thee O Poeta, thee Poeta, thy very self (mark that) to single Combat at any of these several Weapons, (for I only grant thee the choice of thy death) Battle-Axe, Single Rapier, Case of poniards, Case of Pistols, Bodkins, or pings: but know that by my art beforehand, I do Define thee a man of death; &, for the executing of that direful judgement, which yet thou mayst prevent (and o prevent by not provoking me to fight) I will cleave thee from the crown of thy head down to thy girdle, with the fury of a Division. Briefly if thou art not reconciled, I shall gore thee with the Horns of this Dilemma. If thou Come, Mine innocency will overcome thee, if thou dost Not Come, thine Own Cowardliness: farewell till our next meeting with horror, and then eternally thy ordained Destroyer;  
But I will not name myself, lest the sound thereof should kill thee with an astonishing fear, and so snatch thee from the terror of my prodigious fury.  
Well, I'll go carry Poeta this Letter of Commission for his Execution, and if he have the heart to read it through, without falling into half a dozen sounds, I'll say he has a good heart; but I must haste, or else I think Logicus himself will overtake me. Exit.    

ACTVS II.  

SCENA. III.  LOGICUS. 
O The soul of Aristotle! I was never in such a Predicament before in all my life: well, I'll to Causidicus, they say his house is here about, and I think this be it: ho, who's within?  Causidicus. 
From within .Who's there?  Logicus. 
There's an answer indeed; when I ask who's within? he asks, who's without?  Enter CAUSIDICUS in a lawyer's Gown, a laced Ruff, a black Hat, black Suit, Gloves, silk-stockings, Garters, Roses, etc. 
O, save you Sir, does not one Master Causidicus dwell here?  Caus. 
Yes, what would you have Sir?  Logicus. 
Have Sir! nay, I have more already than I would have.  Caus. 
If you have any business, you may impart it to me.  Logicus. 
Business? than I perceive you are all for Business, you have but little entertainment for a friend; well Sir, are not you a Lawyer?  Caus. 
I may not deny my profession, Sir.  Logicus. 
If then you are a Lawyer Sir, you are either a Civil Lawyer, or an uncivil, you must admit a Division, Sir, for your Lawyers are Equivocal, and therefore carefully to be distinguished before you be defined.  Caus. 
Sir, I must confess, I am not a Civil Lawyer, yet I trust not an uncivil.  Logicus. 
Nay, Sir, my Division holds; I prove it; Either you are a Civil Lawyer, or you are not a Civil Lawyer: But you confess you are not a Civil Lawyer: Ergo, you are an uncivil Lawyer.  Caus. 
Well then, Sir, if you would have it so, I am an uncivil Lawyer.  Logicus. 
Marry Sir, I then fear you will scarce plead my cause well: for my complaint is 'gainst an uncivil fellow, and therefore I much suspect your uprightness: but yet since I cannot make choice, I must use you; but Sir, you must give me leave to hold you a little longer upon some Interrogatories: if you are an uncivil Lawyer, than you are either an Extraordinary Lawyer or a Common Lawyer.  Caus. 
Faith, I am no extraordinary Lawyer, and therefore (if you will) a Common Lawyer.  Logius. Hum. 
Indeed had you been an Extraordinary Lawyer, you had been a Disorderly Lawyer: for, though they are called Canon Lawyers, yet are they most Extravagant. But again Sir, if you are a Common Lawyer, you are to be suspected; for commonly your Common Lawyers are to be suspected.  Enter PHLEGMATICO in a pale russet Suit; on the back whereof was expressed one filling a Pipe of Tobacco; on the breast one taking Tobacco; his Hat beset round about with Tobacco-pipes: with a Can of drink hanging at his girdle. 
But who comes yonder? Phlegmatico, my valiant Armor-bearer.  Phlegmatico. 
'Fore love most Meteorological Tobacco! He takes Tobacco, drinks, and then spawls. (again) Pure Indian! (again) Not a lot Sophisticated (again) A Tobacco-pipe is the Chimney of perpetual Hospitality (again) 'Fore love most Metropolitan Tobacco! He drinks again and Sings, while Logicus, and Causidicus privately withdraw to the side of the Stage.  

TObacco's a Musician  
And in a Pipe delighteth;  
It descends in a Close,  
Through the Organ of the nose,  
With a Relish that inviteth.  
This makes me sing So ho, ho, So ho ho boys,  
Ho boys sound I loudly;  
Earth ne'er did breed  
Such a jovial weed  
Whereof to boast so proudly.   

Tobacco is a Lawyer,  
His pipes do love Long Cases:  
When our brains it enters,  
Our feet do make Indentures,  
Which we Seal with stamping paces.  
This makes me sing, So ho, etc.   

Tobacco's a Physician  
Good both for Sound and Sickly:  
'tis a Hot Perfume  
That expels Cold rheum,  
And makes it flow down quickly.  
This makes me sing, etc.   

Tobacco is a Traveller  
Come from the Indies Hither;  
It passed Sea and Land  
Ere it came to my hand,  
And scaped the Wind, and Wether.  
This makes me sing, etc.   

Tobacco is a Critic,  
That still Old Paper Turneth;  
Whose Labour, and Care  
Is as Smoke in the Air,  
That ascends from a rag when it burneth.  
This makes me sing, etc.   

Tobacco's an Ignis fatuus,  
A Fat and fiery vapour;  
That leads men about  
Till the Fire be Out,  
Consuming like a Taper,  
This makes me sing, etc.   

Tobacco is a Whiffler,  
And cries Huff Snuff with fury;  
His Pipe's his Club and Link;  
he's the visor that does drink;  
Thus armed I fear not a jury.  
This makes me sing So ho ho, So ho ho boys,  
Ho boys sound I loudly:  
Earth ne'er did breed  
Such a jovial weed,  
Whereof to boast so proudly.   Logicus. 
i'faith 'tis my man Phlegmatico, he's at his rheumatic antidote; but I'll—  Phleg. 
My Master, and I saw him not!  Logicus. 
He takes away his Pipe, breaks it, and beats him .Nay, never put up your pipe, you shall not be gone so. A fire burn this Tobacco.  Phleg. 
It would, if you would have let it alone, Sir.  Logicus. 
You're my Target-bearer, sirrah, are you not? a present defence at a desperate combat: bear this also home with you, till I bring you more myself, you slavering rogue. Exit. Phleg .Look Master Causidicus, I have by Action expressed, what my Passion before would scarce have afforded words to deliver; I myself was in like sort beaten by a Varlet, but upon an unlike cause, most injuriously; and now I come to you to be my advocate, and if you will stand my friend, I shall not be wanting to content you in any reasonable sort; and, because you Lawyers are somewhat Tongue-tied, suffer me to be the Midwife to cut the string thereof, with this Silver Penny. Nay, pray Sir be not womanish, you shall take it.  Causid. 
Sir, I count my Profession Crowned, when I plead most causes: and since I have at this present Sir, some importunate avocation of businesses; I will promise you a meditated defence, and when you please but to intimate the instant of your necessity, I shall fly to you as swiftly, as with the wings of Angels. Sir, I partly know you, is not your name Master Logicus?  Logicus. 
I am called so, Sir.  Cau. 
Then fare you well, good Master Logicus. Exit Cau.  Logicus. 
Fare you well good Master Causidicus. Now look to thyself Poeta, for I shall make thee fly to thy railing iambics: but look to thyself, I say, for I have put a sword into a madman's hand against thee. Exit.    

ACTVS II.  

SCENA. IIII.  
ARITHMETICA, GEOMETRES.  
I Perceive to what Centre all the lines of your Circle tend.  Geom. 
You would rather say to what Circumference all the lines run from my Centre.  Arith. 
Lo, now you have confessed: and is't Astronomia that must so Outshine Arithmetica? well, were her beauties as the Stars, I'll make them want the beauty of all beauties, Number; that they shall only be uncertainly gazed upon, under an Indefinite multitude.  Geom. 
You're out, you're out in your Account Arithmetica, believe me you are: I only intimated your suspicion, not expressed mine own desires.  Arith. 
Well, geometre's, I have known the time when your love to Arithmetica was more Solid, and not thus Superficial; the time was when geometre's would not do any thing without Arithmetica; not measure a Foot of ground, but ask of Arithmetica how many Inches it was; not an Inch but inquire of Arithmetica how many Grains were in't: but now forsooth the pride of his desires is raised to an Higher pitch; and now Astronomia is the Star upon which his eye is fixed, and now Astronomia is the Magnetic Pole, after which the Loadstone of his heart doth turn. And Astronomia—  Geom. 
Peace.  Arith. 
What? can't you endure to hear the name of your dearest Astronomia?  Geom. 
Not from that mouth.  Arith. 
Because I cannot praise her Infinitely? why then methinks not from your own, because you cannot praise her without Measure; well, geometre's, forgive me, but I must love thee. Come, dearest; I'll be a Globe, be thou the Axle-tree: I'll be a Circle, be thou the Diameter: I'll be—  Geom. 
A chaste virgin! I think she'll get herself with child by an imagination, without marrying; for she doth already, methinks, Multiply exceedingly, and Bring forth: well, I'll leave you, or else there is no way, Arithmetica, to stay your Progression. Exit Geometres.  Arith. 
Well, geometre's, know, when thou once forsakest Number, thou then runnest headlong into confusion; but this is the misery of enthralled affections; yet since I cannot dissettle them, I will mitigate them; and so long count them at least supportable, as they shall not exceed Number and Measure.   

ACTVS II. SCENA V.  POETA. 
Melancholico enters, takes money and departs .HIst, Melancholico, passion o' me! I had almost forgot the main point of the business: here— give that to Causidicus. A man may as well open an Oyster without a knife, as a lawyer's mouth without a fee; but if he were half dead, that would (like strong-water to a dying man) make him Gape, though he could not speak. O the Serpentine ingratitude of man! that these snakes, whom I have nourished in my bosom, should now sting me! This Logicus, a base, dry-brained kecks-witted clinch-fist, not long ago, perceiving his fortunes to be brought to a desperate precipitation; through the incomprehensible difficulty of his Artless curiosities, most fawningly embosoms himself into my acquaintance, upon a former consideration of my alluring faculty; and in the dusty terms of some cobweb eloquence, blunderingly stammered out his extreme, his extreme wants: for he had only so much enforced rhetoric, as to bring out those words twice, & so by chance light upon a sorry Figure; then brutishly he expressed the rest, rather by crying then speaking; (& indeed he had no more moisture else in him, then only to bewail his own misery) when asking what was his request, he answered, that I would turn his unpleasant rules into pleasant Verse: I straight out of the open freeness of my nature and an effuse goodness, prevented the repetition of his suit, by a quick consent; thereupon set myself a work, and after some travail performed it: Some Travail I say; for by the Nine Muses, I think I was above Nine Months in travail with that monstrous birth: If one but consider what splay-footed verses they were, a man would swear, that some infernal hag, not a Muse (though unwilling) had been the mother of them; which unhappy labour when I had show'd unto him, the reviving wretch falls on's knees, admires the work, calls me the Aesculapius of his salvation, and with hands lifted up, vows to pay his vows at the muse's altar; that I now more admired at his admiration, then at the deformities of mine own Work: for, by jove, they are such unblessed, such unlucky verses, that, besides the loss of custom, which they may justly procure the Author, they are able to make a man be suspected for a conjuror; there wants nothing but a Circle to make a complete conjuration. 
Fecana, Caieti, Dafenes, Hebare, Gedaco,  
Gebali stant, non stant, Febas, Hebas, Hecas.  Sure I think it should have been Hecate. Well, he enjoys them; and upon the happiness of this success came Grammaticus to me with the like suit: i'faith I did it, and cast most of his Rules likewise into Verse: but by jove, since the proud Schoolmaster has showed himself thus ungracious and stiffnecked towards me, I'll be even with him; and now I think on't, there's all his Syntaxis yet to do; but by this hand, if ever I turn line of it into Verse, let me hereafter be a mere Heteroclite, and the very Aptoton of a fool per omnes casus.   

ACTVS II. SCENA VI.  
PHYSIOGNOMUS. CHEIROMANTES. The one of a greater stature, the other little: attired like Rogues, in tottered apparel, with black faces like Gypsies; in flat round caps close to their heads, without bands and girdles, with truncheons in their hands.  
PHYSIOGNOMUS, CHEIROMANTES, POETA.  
LEt's set upon him. The gods preserve you Sir, from the black dragon of the night.  Cheir. 
The broad eye of the Heavens still attend you Sir.  Phys. 
And grant that the sweet Fairies may nightly put money in your shoes Sir.  Cheir. 
And sweep your house clean Sir.  Phys. 
And make you the rich husband of many wives.  Cheir. 
And the blessed father of many children.  Phys. 
The gods of the night send you happy dreams.  Cheir. 
And that you may never pare your nails upon a Friday.  Phys. 
And that the horse-shoe may never be pulled from your threshold.  Cheir. 
And that your Stables may be always free from the queen of the Goblins.  Phys. 
That your nose may never bleed only three drops at a time.  Cheir. 
That a yellow Death-mould may never appear upon your hand, or any part of your body.  Phys. 
That you may never stumble at your going out in the morning.  Cheir. 
That you may—  Poeta. 
Be rid of you Varlets. What Egyptian darkness has seized upon your faces?  Phys. 
we are indeed from Egypt-land, an't please your good vrship: Brother, by the Ruffian, I think this is a quire cove, he cuts such quire whidds: Good Sir, if you be a Gentry cove, vouchsafe some small Win or but a Make, for we have neither Lower, nor Libbeg, nor Libkin.  Cheir. 
No by Salomon, unless it be Strommell sometimes in a Skipper; we had rather Maund than Mill to keep us from Trining.  Phys. 
Good Gentry cove vouchsafe us a little Lower, or some old duds, as a Castir or a Commission.  Poeta. 
Marry if I had a Commission, I knew what to do with you.  Cheir. 
Ah, your good vrship, to cover our Quarommes, that our wants may not drive us to the Chates— let me see your Famble good Master.  Poeta. 
My Famble Villain? This is almost as bad as the language of Logicus.  Phys. 
Ah your good vrship! it is the Gypsy language: the vrship of the gods bless your fair glaziers, and look out with your merciful eyen.  Cheiro. 
Gentle Ruler of this place, if so you be, vouchsafe to favour us in the way of truth for the God's cause.  Phys. 
Somewhat towards a meals meat, Well and Wisely bestow upon us, and the Go-ads reward you for't.  Cheir. 
Ah good Master well and wisely, give me but an old sheet against the cold, or an old Petticoat or smock of my Mistress's (Heaven save her life) for my poor Doxy.  Phys. 
Good Sir give but a cup of your best drink well and wisely. The gods save the King and his Counsel, and the governors of this place; you shall have a fair wife Master, and many children.  Poeta. 
Ha! a fair wife and many children? how know'st thou that? what's thy name?  Phys. 
Physiognomus, good Master.  Poeta. 
And thine?  Cheir. 
Cheiromantes, an't like your good vrship.  Poeta. 
Physiognomus, and Cheiromantes? Why what can you do?  Phys. 
We can tell the will of the heavens good Master; we can tell your fortune, Master.  Cheir. 
We can tell the will of the heavens good Master; we can tell your fortune, Master.  Poeta. 
My fortune? why what's my fortune?  Cheir. 
You shall have a very fair wife.  Poeta. 
Shall have? thou mean'st, Would have.  Cheir. 
No History ever made mention of so fair a one; she shall be as beautiful as the Stars.  Poeta. 
Ha! as beautiful as the Stars? and no History ever made mention of so fair a one? why that is, it shall not be Historia but Astronomia. I'm crowned! Sirrah, you flatter me.  Cheir. 
It is the decree of the God's Sir.  Poeta. 
Why now my dream's out.  Cheir. 
You shall have many children, and one of them shall be borne with Teeth in his head, and his name shallbe Satyrico.  Poeta. 
Nay, I'll bear with any misfortune in my children, so I may be happy in my wife. O divine Astronomia, why? was not this my very dream?  
Whilst Poeta looks up earnestly, Cheiromantes picks his pocket, takes out a book and a purse, and so he with Physiognomus departs. methought as on a shady bank I lay,  
The whilst a murmuring Brook did gently play  
With his soft sliding waves, and did complain  
How Astronomia did my love disdain;  
A Lady, like my Love, in Heaven did stand,  
The Sun and Moon waiting on either hand:  
And when I spoke, she Frowned: and, when I cried,  
She, with a wanton smile, seemed to deride.  
At last the Sun and Moon did both descend,  
And unto me, methought, their course did bend.  
But when they were drawn nigh, they both appeared  
coal-black; that with the wonder I was feared.  
They came and kissed me, and then suddenly  
They both did vanish from my trembling eye.  
The Lady then, seeming to smile, did make  
A sign unto me, and did bid me take  
The Teian Poet, sweet Anacreon,  
My individual companion,  
And in my native language to translate  
His Niobe, and as it was her fate  
To turn into a stone; so I by this  
Should find a stranger Metamorphosis:  
And she, that I did love, should change her heart  
Of stone, and by her love release my smart.  
I took my book and straight translated it;  
(Lines soon are penned when Love doth dictate wit)  
With that methought she pulled me up unto her,  
And said; I'll now refresh thee my grieved wooer.  
she pulled me up, and when I was e'en crowned  
With Heaven, she let me fall back to the ground.  
When with the fall methought I lost my dear  
Anacreon, and that increased my fear.  
Then with this double fear I straight awake,  
And my faint joints with a chill horror shaked.  
I'll comment thus: that face that from above  
Appeared, was the fair image of my love,  
Bright Astronomia: and the darkened Sun  
And Moon that graciously vouchsafed to run  
From their own Sphere to kiss me, were these two  
Black, but glad messengers (if this be true  
They do pronounce) and therefore they were sent  
From heaven, because they knew the God's intent.  
The turning of Anacreon doth imply  
I shall obtain her love by poesy.  
And, ere I rose, this morn I made my quill  
Express Anacreon's Iönian skill.  
Verses can draw the Moon from Heaven; then may  
My lines, if blessed, win Astronomia.  
Her letting me fall down, was not true story,  
But feigned by envious sleep to make me sorry.  
So was the losing my Anacreon:  
But dearest friend, as yet thou art not gone:  
No, no, my hopes and joys are too too great;  
And these do flatter me too much—  
But stay— O my Anacreon, my Anacreon, He feels in his pockets, & finds himself cozened .I have lost my Anacreon: Varlets, Villains, I'm deluded, my pockets are picked; I have lost my Anacreon: did I dream? or did I make Verses? or was I mad? now my dream's out, 'tis out indeed, all; for now I remember me, I left out the worst part unexpounded, and that was their vanishing from me: well, this 'tis to be a stargazer, and fall into a pit; I was thinking of Astronomia, when I was by promise to have met with Geographus: well, I'll pursue my first intendment, and to Geographus for the learning of the languages; and fear ne'er a corrival under Heaven, now Mithridates, and Scaliger are dead. Exit Poeta.   

ACTVS II. SCENA VII.  


MEDICUS ,in a physician's gown, a laced ruff-band, a black Satin suit, silk stockings, garters, roses, etc.    
MAGUS, ASTROLOGIA, MEDICUS, PHYSIOGNOMUS, CHEIROMANTES.  
ay, But Medicus, who brought you word that Poeta was sick?  Medic. 
Why, Historia has sent one unto me, now to entreat me to minister unto him my best physic; and the messenger told me (as he heard, it seems) the occasion thereof, which was, that Historia who was in love with him, hearing that he was hurt in a fray with Logicus and Grammaticus, out of the jealous fear of her abundant love, sent to me thus carefully, upon the suspicion of his hurt.  Magus. 
Why, Physiognomus, did Poeta seem to you, to be well?  Physiog. 
Yes, i'faith; or if he were sick 'twas more in mind then in body.  Magus. 
Well, Medicus, where's the messenger?  Medic. 
Why, at my house expecting my return.  Magus. 
Back then, in all haste, and by her servant send him poison, that if he be sick he may die: and so one may be removed out of geometre's his way. And if the poison chance to be discovered, thou mayst pretend 'twas her treachery, because he does not love her, and that thy physic was good.  Medic. 
Let me alone, I warrant you; but if I can but once come to the handling of him myself, I'll give him but a clyster, & blow him up with a Powder, I warrant him. Exit Med.  Magus. 
But, Physiognomus, are you sure 'twas he? did not you mistake him?  Physiog. 
Faith, neither of us knew him very well; but Cheiromantes has brought some testimonies from him.  Magus. 
What, I prithee? what?  Cheiro. 
marry, Sir, a book, and that I think is a sign of a Scholar; but I have a purse too, and that, I think, is not a sign of a Scholar.  Magus. 
What's in't? what's in't?  Cheiro. 
Nay, I'll swear, we both ran since I Nimbed it, that we durst not be so bold yet, as to take leisure to look in't, but now I'll see.  Magus. 
What's this? Anacreon? an old bawdy Poet? a fit companion for such a Gallant.  Cheiro. 
A fire burn it; here's nothing but a scurvy paper.  Magus. 
But a murrain, how couldst thou possibly get these things from him?  Physiog. 
Faith, Cheiromantes, by the slight of the Hand did it very neatly.  Cheiro. 
ay, i'faith, I ha' the trick on't: for (a rapture of love seizing on him, and casting him into an ecstasy) he fell a talking to himself of a dream he had: I seeing he was fallen into a Dream, persuaded myself he was fast asleep; and so presumptuously dived into his pockets, whence I brought these spoils.  Magus. 
Good, good, prithee let's see the paper.  
Anacreon's Niobe, or his Lyrics to his love, beginning with the daughter of Tantalus or Niobe, thus, 
{non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman}  
{non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman}.  Translated by me this morning upon occasion of my celestial vision.  Astrol. 
Pretty, pretty, why these Poets, they are all of them borne, I think, upon Friday at the sixth hour, for then Venus has the dominion of the Day, & Mars of the Hour; now the Planet of the Day does chiefly govern their Actions, and the Planet of the Hour does admix a Subordinate Influence, and that's the reason that your Poets have more of Venus in them then Mars; yet sometimes they are in combats, as lately Poeta: so on the other side your Warriors for the most part are borne upon Tuesdays at the third hour, for then Mars has the dominion of the Day, and Venus of the Hour, and therefore your Warriors have more of Mars than Venus.  Magus. 
Well, let's read them.  

To his Love.  
NIOBE, as they say, once stood  
Turned to a stone by Phrygian flood,  
Pandion's daughter (so fame sings)  
Changed to a Swallow had swift wings,  
But I a looking-glass would be,  
Still to be looked upon by Thee:  
Or I (my Love) would be thy Gown,  
By Thee to be worn up and down.  
Or a pure Well full to the brims,  
That I might wash Thy purer limbs.  
Or I'd be precious Balm to Anoint  
With choicest care each Choicest joint.  
Or, if I might, I would be (fain)  
About Thy neck thy happy Chain.  
Or would it were my blessed hap  
To be the Lawn o'er Thy fair Pap.  
Or would I were thy shoe to be  
Daily but Trod upon by Thee.   
Pretty, pretty, by the dimpled chin of my Astrologia, pretty; I'll give the rascal his Anacreon again (because I cannot tell what to do with it) for this trick, and tell him I found it, and so make him fall in love with me most poetically; well, my little rascals, expect a better booty of some richer body the next time; be gone: but be in readiness, there is to be a banquet at Ethicus his house, for the reconciling of Logicus, Grammaticus, and this Poeta, if he can be there, and I with Astrologia are invited thither, wherefore if there should be any occasion of employment for you, be at hand.  Physiog. Cheiro. 
we warrant you.  Exeunt Physiognomus & Cheiromantes. Magus. 
Now, Astrologia, take that powder, and according to my instructions at the banquet, see that Astronomia drink it off, and I warrant her then, 'twill make her love our more loved geometre's.  Astrol. 
Fear not, I know already by the Stars 'twill take effect. Exit Astrologia.  Magus. 
Farewell; I must to geometre's, or else i'faith he'll Conjure me for staying. Exit Magus.   

ACTVS II. SCENA VIII.  
POETA, GEOGRAPHUS, PHANTASTES.  
FOr the learning of your languages, Sir, I must confess, I do highly approve of it, but I see no such necessity of travailing, beside the danger and expense that must be undergone.  Geogr. 
O, Sir, I could tell you such wonders, as would inflame you with a desire.  Poet. 
As what, I pray you, Sir?  Geogr. 
Sir, I can impart such rarities of relation unto you, as would amaze you; and yet they are familiar to a traveler. In a City of Greece, I remember I saw the admired net, which Vulcan made to entangle Mars and Venus; and 'tis hanged up in a Temple dedicated to the same god, and by himself was given thereunto, to the terror of all Cuckold-makers for ever.  Poet. 
O strange! but, Sir, as I remember that net was invisible.  Geogr. 
Hum— oh— true Sir, it was invisible, but, Now Sir— it is to be seen.  Phant. 
Sir, I will take leave to help a little my Master's memory, not his invention; for by jove, Sir, and by the Artemisian Mausoleum, which these eyes, not without amazement, have beheld, 'tis true; thus 'twas, Sir: it can be seen by any honest man; but if any Adulterer casts his eyes towards it, he presently loses his sight, and therefore it is their manner of Trial for those that are accused of adultery.  Poet. 
O wonderful!  Geogr. 
Nay, Sir, in another place of Greece there is a round, close Valley, encompassed with exceeding high Hills; only on one side there is a narrow entrance into it & through the midst of it runs a delicate stream, by the bank of which if a man stand, he shall as perfectly hear the Music of the Spheres, as if he were amongst them: and the cause of this, by the inhabitants is thought to be the height of the Hills: which keeping-in the sound, and bringing it down to the water, does by an aerial resultancy produce a most reciprocal representation of the divine harmony.  Poet. 
Oh, that I was not made a traveler!  Geogr. 
Nay, Sir, moreover it is so sweet, that the hearer can never leave hearing of his own accord, but stands still.  Poet. 
O wonderful! but then I pray, Sir, how does he come away?  Geogr. 
Hum— faith I was told the device of that, but I have forgot.  Phant. 
O, Sir, I perfectly remember it, 'twas thus: The inhabitants have, at the foot of the outside of the Hill, digged forth an entrance, and underneath have made a Vault which reaches just to the bank of the River, all along the side of which, they have made a many trapdoors, and so when a man has heard enough, they unbolt the trapdoors within, and let him slide down gently.  Poet. 
Oh admirable! but methinks when the door is open, they should hear it below likewise in the Vault, and stand still there too.  Phant. 
Well, Sir, by my Mother's soul (that oath I learned in Spain) 'tis a truth; and the reason it cannot be heard lower, is, because the sound does not descend below the water.  Poet. 
Indeed, that's an excellent reason.  Phant. 
Nay, by jove, Sir, I scorn to lie; I scorn to speak any thing without reason, by jove; by jove, I'll give as good a reason of those things I know, as any man under the cope of Heaven; I will, by jove.  Geogr. 
Why, I have seen white bears with faces would make you fall in love with them.  Poet. 
O strange! white bears! and yet indeed I have heard that a late in America there are white bears, but they are most terrible.  Geogr. 
Nay, Sir, and these have long tails.  Poet. 
That's somewhat worth the admiration; and yet I think all Bears at first had long tails, or else why should the Bear in the heavens have one!  Geogr. 
'Tis true; yet (if you mark it) 'tis broken.  Poet. 
O, that came thus; when jupiter pulled him up to heaven by the tail, the weight of his body broke it, whereupon jupiter caught him by the rump, and so tied his tail together again, & that is the reason of the knot in the middle of it, and so it has ever since hung slopeling downward, if you mark it.  Geogr. 
Again, Sir, in my travails in Tuscany, I beheld a most curious piece of Architecture; it was an hall built in the form of a cross, that, which way soever the wind sat, or the sun shined, a man might always go to one of the ends, and so decline the present violence of the season: and as in an arbour unto which the Sun has access, you shall see boughs at the top correspondently represented on the ground in the shadow: so whatsoever curious work was seen in the roof of this building, the same underneath was expressed in the Floor.  Poet. 
I fancy the conceit prettily.  Phant. 
Nay, Sir; I'll tell you a wonder, we met with a traveler that could speak some six languages at the same instant.  Poet. 
How? at the same instant! that's impossible.  Phant. 
Nay, Sir, the actuality of the performance puts it beyond all contradiction. With his tongue he'd vowel you out as smooth Italian, as any man breathing: with his Eye he would sparkle forth the proud Spanish: with his Nose blow out most Robustious Dutch: the Creaking of his High-heeled shoe would articulate exact Polonian: The knocking of his shinbones Feminine French: and his Belly would grumble most pure and Scholarlike Hungary.  Poet. 
How? his Belly speak?  Phant. 
Alas, that's the least wonder, for at what time Pythagoras flourished, that was a familiar thing with his Scholars: and I may confirm it by a persuasive induction drawn from your Pythonisses, and your new-fashioned Lutes that sound from within, Sir, from within: nay, besides all this, Sir, at the same time his Ears could sing, and his Brains crow; and he could Laugh till the tears stood in's Eyes.  Poet. 
O wonderful! wonderful!  Geogr. 
If you please, Sir, now to employ me, not only my Wants, but also my Love shall make me diligently respectful.  Poet. 
Sir, I courteously accept your offered endeavours.  Geogr. 
Ah, dearest Astronomia, 'tis for thy sake I do thus. He speaks this aside to himself, and Poeta overhears him.  Poet. 
How? for Astronomia's? [he spoke that to himself] Sir, I am on a sudden less well affected, wherefore pardon, I pray you, an abrupt entreating of your present departure, and some speedy occasion shall shortly offer a second meeting.  Geog. 
Well Sir, we thank you; Apollo be always the Patron of your Muse and Health.  Poeta. 
For Astronomia's sake? why? is he in love with her? (For Astronomia's sake!) or is he in love with me! I won't torture myself, I'll expound gently; he's in love with me, and because (it may be) he hears I love her, he accounts (it may be) that he does this, that I may obtain her: and thus (it may be) he means he does this for Her: This is Scurvy; Master Geographus you have marred your own Market; my stomach's turned; I have Tongues enough for a wiseman; thousands before me have got Wife and Children, more than thy could keep, without learning the Languages; and therefore from henceforth, for fear of the worst, you may, Master Geographus, (if you please) undertake a second Travel.    

ACTVS III.  

SCENA I.  


POETA in his Nightcap and Slippers, unbuttoned and untrust.    POETA. 
Melancholico comes in, and lays down his Lute & departs .BE not far off.  
That nothing is entire!  
Nothing all-blessed! but still some new desire  
Brings a new torture! and this Fate does lie,  
An heavy weight on all mortality!  
It does; thus was not lately my affection  
Chained to Historia by a strong subjection?  
Did I not pule, and pine, entreat, and cry?  
Pretend a sickness? threaten I would die,  
If she not loved me? did I not act all  
The frantic parts wherewith Love does enthrall  
His rebel-subjects? Did I not look Sad  
If she but Frowned; and, if she Smiled, look Glad?  
I did; and took delight to be enchained  
To her, Hope said at last she might be gained.  
Yet see the wheel of change! I now do scorn  
Her tears, and now she thinks herself forlorn.  Mel. 
Pardon my intrusion Sir, Historia Melancholico enters.  
Hearing you were hurt lately in a Fray,  
Has in her jealousy of love sent here  
Some Physic, to prevent a greater fear.  Poeta. 
She should have sent me Poison, far from her  
I count it so; yet let the Messenger  
Return our courteous gratitude. begone. Exit Melancholico.  
Lo, thus vexations never come alone;  
Well, I won't love her; nay, I'll have her more  
Henceforth; she plagues me worse than before.  Enter MELANCHALICO, and SANGVIS. Mel. 
Pardon once more, Sir, here comes sent by her,  
Medicus, Servant to administer  
The Physic.  Poeta. 
— Why, I prithee know I lack  
No Physic, there 'tis, thou mayst carry't back.  Sanguis. 
The Gods forbid, Sir, this is Poison. Sanguis looks on the poison.  Poeta. 
— How!  Sanguis. 
'Tis Poison, Sir.  Poeta. 
— Why? it was sent but now  
From my lovesick Historia.  Sanguis. 
— So 't may be:  
They've changed my Master's Physic.  Poeta. 

— Oh to see  
The Treachery of women! well, conceal  
The fact as yet; just time shall all reveal.  Exeunt MELANCHOLICO, and SANGVIS. 
O Women, Witches, Monsters, Furies Devils,  
The impure extract of a World of evils;  
Nature's great Error; the obliquity  
Of the God's Wisdom; and th' Anomaly  
From all that's good; I'll curse you all below  
The Centre, and, if I could, than further throw  
Your cursed heads; and if any should gain  
A place in Heaven, I'll time 'em down again  
To a worse ruin; yet methinks I hear  
How Astronomia whispers in mine ear,  
And begs a Pardon for them; well; to thee  
I'll yield, thou stand'st above mortality.  
Aspire, my gentle Muse, inflame my breast;  
Then thus my graceful love shall be expressed.   

Her Brow is like a brave Heroic line,  
That does a sacred Majesty enshrine.  
Her Nose Phaleuciac-like in comely sort  
Ends in a trochee, or a long and short.  
Her Mouth is like a pretty Dimeter;  
Her Eyebrows like a little-longer Trimeter.  
Her Chin is an Adonic; and her Tongue—  
Is an Hypermeter, somewhat too-long.  
Her Eyes, I may compare them unto two  
Quick-turning Dactyls, for their nimble View.  
Her Neck Asclepiad-like turns round about  
Behind, before a little bone stands out.  
Her Ribs like staves of Sapphics do descend  
Thither, which but to name were to offend.  
Her Arms like two Iambics raised on high,  
Do with her Brow bear equal Majesty.  
Her Legs like two straight Spondees, keep apace  
Slow as two Scazons, but with stately grace.   

Thanks to my Muse; yet why do I admire  
Her thus, whom I enjoy but by desire?  
For more I never shall; this is my weight  
Of grief, and this my preordained Fate.  
He takes up his Lute .Come, come, thou part of Heaven, companion  
Of all my woes and loves, thou that alone  
Dost in the midst of sorrows yield relief,  
And though not take away, make less my grief.  He plays on his Lute, then leaves off, and speaks again. 
My dearest Lute, Apoollo's best invention  
Wherewith he does compose the wild dissension  
Of our untuned desires, which would confound  
Us quite, but that they break forth with a sound!  
Sighs from our breasts are like sounds from thy womb,  
Borne dead, and buried in an airy Tomb.  
Sigh then to Cupid, tell him he's too blame  
Not raising in my love a mutual flame.   He plays on his Lute, and leaving off, calls to his man MELANCHOLICO. 
Ho, Melancholico.  Mel. 
— Here Sir.  Poeta. 
— begone.  Mel. 
Did you not call me Sir?  Poeta. 
— Sirrah, begone.  He plays a little on his Lute, and then calls MELANCHOLICO again. 
Ho, Melancholico.  Mel. 
— Sir.  Poeta. 
Dance, I say, Dance.  Mel. 
— I can't.  Poeta. 
— Sirrah, dance that which I play.  He plays the antic on his Lute, and MELANCHOLICO dances, then abruptly leaving off, he speaks to him. 
begone: MELANCHOLICO continues dancing. Sirrah, begone.  He plays again on his Lute, and suddenly leaving off, throws it away. 
— Away, away,  
Charmer, Enchanter, 'tis a truth to say,  
Our bodies cast their shapes into the Air,  
And can appear when they are gone; so rare  
Philosophers have held, and so I hold:  
Pardon, great Astronomia, I was bold,  
Too-bold, I do confess, but my dim sight  
Could not before behold thee though so bright.  
But now mine eyes are cleared; on my bowed knee,  
I ask a Pardon of thy Majesty.  
Pardon thy Poet, and vouchsafe this grace, He feigns Astronomia to be present, falls on his knees, embraces and kisses the air: then rises.  
That thy rich beauties he may thus embrace.  
And now, dear Love, add hereunto one kiss,  
And than thou shalt in heaven my soul with bliss.  
Maro, thy Riddle's solved: I thus untie  
The knot, which thou didst knit, men's wits to try.  
Dic quibus in terris (& reis mihi magnus APOLLO)  
Tres pateat Coeli spatium (non amplius) ulnas?  
Maro, 'tis here; here's Astronomia;  
Here's Heaven closed in those narrow limits; nay,  
Here's Deity, the object of all loves,  
Enough to make a thousand Heavens of jove's.  
See, He thinks he sees her ascending into Heaven .see, how she ascends! mount, mount, great Queen  
Of Heaven, and in full lustre be thou seen  
Mortality's amazement; see, she's gone  
To mount yet higher to a stately Throne,  
Placed on the Azure pavement of the Stars,  
Guarded by Days, Months, Hours, then sees the wars  
Of Pigmy-mortals—. Enter MELANCHOLICO.  Mel. 
— Sir, here's Ethicus  
Is come, and says he'd speak with you.  Poeta. 
— With us?  
Admit him in. Exit Melancholico. Enter ETHICUS.  Ethicus. 
— Hay! scarce dressed yet! how so?  Poeta. 
What? comes your froward age to chide us?  Ethicus. 
— No.  
But to invite you to a Feast, myself your friend,  
Desirous of your peace, to set an end  
To your contentions with Grammaticus  
And Logicus, tonight do purpose thus  
To make you friends.  Poeta. 
But—  Ethicus. 
— Nay, no butts: Be there.  Poeta. 
I will.  Ethicus. 
— Why thanks. Welcome shall be your cheer.  Exit Ethicus. Poeta. 
Well then, I'll in and dress me, and so come,  
Yet better 'twere perchance you had my room. Exit Poeta.   

actus II. SCENA III.  
GEOMETRES, MAGUS.  
But Sir, can it be lawful to deal with spirits?  Magus. 
Whilst you are av_j a Geometrician, it is lawful for you to deal only with bodies: but if you will undertake Our Superior faculty, 'tis not only lawful, but most honourable; why Sir, 'tis one of the greatest gifts of the Gods to have command over Spirits; but for the approbation of it, you may only look back unto the antiquity thereof, which is drawn from more than eight hundred years before the Siege of Troy, in the time of Agonaces, and of the renowned Zoroaster a King of the Bactrians, who described the high Mystery of this Divine Science in an hundred thousand verses; after these there flourished jobeth, Toluscol, Zamolxis, whose admired fame was afterwards emulated by Almadal, Alchindus, and Hipocus Arabians: Apuscorus, Zaratus, and Cobares, Medians: Marmaridius, a Babylonian: Zarmocenidas, an Assyrian, Abbaris, an Hyperborean, Thesphetion, an Aethiopian, Arnuphis, an Egyptian, Theurgus, a Chaldean: with these I may recite Cambyses, Zamares, Charondas, Demogorgon, Gobrias, Arbatel, Apollonius, Gog, Hostanes, Atyr, Choastes—  Geom. 
Good Sir, do not conjure.  Magus. 
No Sir, these are nothing but the names of the Sacred Professors of this Divine Science.  Geom. 
ay but it may be Sir, they had conjuring names.  Magus. 
Alas, Sir! 'tis not so easy a matter to work effectually in our Sacred Science, as most men think it is, and as I will most manifestly declare unto you; for this is a rule, you must be first an Absolute Astrologian; upon which fundamental Supposition I thus proceed: before you can obtain the knowledge of Astrology, you must be a most Grounded Philosopher, a sound Physician, and an exquisite Mathematician; by the helps of which Sciences you shall know the courses of the Stars; the number of the Orbs; your Poles; the Circles; the Vertical and Pedal points; the Azimuth, or Vertical Circle; the Almucantarath or Circles of Altitude; the Concentricity and Excentricity of the Orbs; the Ascendent, and Descendent Knots, or Syndesms, that Cut the ecliptic; your Orbs Aequant, Epicyclical, and Deferent of the Apogeum, and Perigeum, or of the Highest and Lowest Absis; the Planetary Aspects, or Configurations, either Right as Conjunction and Opposition, or Collateral as Sextile, Quadrate, and Trine; the Direct motion of the Planets, their Retrogradation & Station; then Sir, your Astrology is either Canonical for the Influence of the Stars, or Thematical for the Erection of a Scheme of the Heavens, wherein is to be known the Order of the null, and the Inscription. Then there is your judiciary, which is either Genethliacal, or Catholic instructing in predictions, either Idiomatical or Symptomatical; the eight and twenty Mansions of the Moon; the Symbolisation of Occult qualities in Herbs, with the Planets; Signacles, Pentacles, Planetary Suffumigations, Unctions, Pailters, Rings, Alligations, Suspensions; the twelve Scales of the Numbers; the Duodenary Scale, either Cabalistical or Orphical; the Characters, Seals, and Bands of Spirits—  Geom. 
You'll give me all this in writing Sir; won't you?  Magus. 
Yes Sir, yes. Then are there divers kinds of your Magic, as Necromancy, anthropomancy, Gastromancy, Cheiromancy, Coscinomancy,—  Geom. 
I pray, do you yourself know how many there are in all?  Magus. 
Sir, One and twenty. I'll begin them over again, if you will. Necromancy, anthropomancy—  Geom. 
Nay, good Sir hold, we have enough already: But I perceive you Magicians have admirable memories to get hard words by heart; I marvel you do not turn Dictionarie-makers: Why? I warrant there's no hard word but you can tell the meaning on't: you'd put all their noses out of joint quite.  Magus. 
ay, and put them out of their wits, if we list: But then, Sir, to know the Spirit of Every Day, and Hour; his Name, Power, and Legions under him, his Form of appearing, whether like a Dragon, or an Horse, or a Wolf, or a flame of fire; the Region whence he comes; the Gift he bestows, whether Learning, Riches, Beauty; his Name, his Characters: these, these, are the wonders, the amazements of our Spiritual Science; Spiritual I may justly call in, since every Art receives an Excellency from its Object; and yet (alas!) I confess, I am but young in it yet, and have scarce served a 'prentice-ship in it, if it may be called a servitude, wherein there is such Freeness, and Evagation of spirit in such exquisite knowledge; nay, Dominion over Spirits.  Geom. 
Young say you? marry, I think, you are absolutely grounded in it, that can know all these Mysteries; ah, were it the will of the gods, I had but half of this skill, I'd give all that I have, and get more as I could; but can you do all these Wonders?  Magus. 
Far stranger, far stranger; most amazing transformations; why, there was Apuleius so skilful in this Art, that he turned himself into an Ass, and Lucian was turned into an Ass, before he studied it.  Geom. 
O strange! but can a Spirit give Learning?  Magus. 
Oh, there was Hermolaus Barbarus, when he studied Philosophy, and less understood any place, he would call up a Spirit to instruct him; so the famous Cardan's father carried one always in a Ring on his finger; and Agrippa had his Dog with a Characterized Collar.  Geom. 
But can you by your Art, tell me whether or no I shall have Astronomia?  Magus. 
Any thing.  Geom. 
How!  Magus. 
Why, I can do it by coscinomancy.  Geom. 
What's that?  Magus. 
By the turning of a Siue.  Geom. 
But I have heard, that's only for things stolen.  Magus. 
Ah, 'tis more general, and that you shall see; stay here, I'll but step forth. Exit Magus.  Geom. 
Well, this is the man whom the Heavens have ordained to make me happy; O Venus, be favourable unto me, and I'll build thee a fairer Temple than ever the Ephesians directed to Diana. MAGUS enters.  Magus. 
Come Sir, here are shears and a Siue; I must fasten the shears? now do as I bid you; Hold up the side of the shears with your finger. (he puts the wrong finger )Nay, come, your middle-finger: So; now must I say a mystical form of powerful words, and then name those that we suspect shall have her; and amongst them name you also; and at whose name the Siue turns, he shall have her.  Geom. 
If it does not turn at mine, I shall die: pray make it turn at mine.  Magus. 
Nay, than it must go for nothing, for it must turn of its own accord. Be silent now. Dies mies, Ieschet, bene doefet, Dowima, Enitemaus. Who shall have Astronomia? Shall Poeta? (It stands still. )Who shall have Astronomia? Shall Logicus?  Geom. 
he's not in love with her, Sir; pray do not you put in him too.  Magus. 
O vile! peace; now must I begin again. Diet mies, Ieschet, Bene doefet, Dowima, Enitemaus. Who shall have Astronomia? Shall Poeta? (It stands still. )Who shall have Astronomia? Shall Logicus? (It stands still. )Who shall have Astronomia? Shall Geographus? (It moves a little. )Who shall have Astronomia? Shall geometre's? (It turns round. )Shall he obtain her by Conjuration? (It stands still. )Shall he obtain her by Medicine? (It moves a little. )Shall he obtain her by Fascination? (It turns round.)  Geom. 
Georaetres falls down on his knees, and embraces Magus his knees .Magus, what's mine is yours, goods, life, soul, and all: Venus, thy temple shall be a mile in length; thy Image in't shall be greater than the Colossus at Rhodes, it shall be all white Marble: The temple at Milan shall look like pale-faced tallow to it; it shall have as many pillars, as there are hours in the year, and as many windows as there are minutes; and the Spire shall be higher than Tenariffa, or the Tower of Babylon by eight score Measured furlongs at the least. Magus, I have enough, I have enough.  Magus. 
Nay but, Sir, you must Measure your joy; divers have died with overmuch rejoicing, and so may you; and then you'd both break your vow to the Goddess, and lose your Love beside.  Geom. 
You say true.  Magus. 
Besides, you must use a means you see, Fascination; which you shall use at the Banquet, which (you know) we are invited unto.  Geom. 
Nay, let me alone for looking on her; I'll look thorough her, and thorough her; and make her as Perspective, as I am Solid.  Magus. 
Besides, there was a little moving, you saw, at the name of Geographus: to signify he will be fair for her too. And again, there was a little moving at the word Medicine, and therefore that must be used too: but for that take you no care.  Geom. 
Well, you learned men put so many doubts— but I care not, I shall have her in the end: come, I've enough, now let's go.  Magus. 
Measure your joy, I say.  Geom. 
Thou'rt mine, thou'rt mine, Astronomia, I'm in Heaven already; Geographus may go travail again, and Poeta, in stead of bay, may go wear a Willow-garland.  Magus. 
Come, let's in. Exeunt Geometres & Magus.   

ACTVS III. SCENA III.  
LOGICUS, RHETORICA.  
MArry, and I be thus troubled with you when you woo me, and seek to please; what should I expect and we were married once?  Rhet. 
Nay, dearest Logicus, let not the excellency of your reason be so severe, but that it may admit a gracious apprehension of a smiling love; let not the exactness of your wisdom be so regulated, but that it may express a courteous acceptance of a lovers admiration; let not—  Log. 
Nay, and you once fall to Set speeches, I am gone; I perceive you are not for common talk; I wonder, now I think on't, in what Predicament a woman's tongue is; let's see: yet, what if I make it a Transcendent? and yet it can't be so, for 'tis neither unum, nor verum, nor honum: i'faith, an't be in any Predicament, it shall be in Quantitate Continua, and that's opposite to Discreta; or rather, since 'tis so irregular, and therefore can hardly be admitted into any Order, I will count it that Monster in Nature, and Contradiction of Philosophy, Infinitum in acta.  Rhet. 
Why lo, now yourself has made a set speech; and thus whilst you Reprehend, you Offend: whilst you Direct, you Neglect: whilst you Reform, you Deform: whilst you—  Log. 
hay day! this is tick-tack: Here's another shorter trick: well, I perceive there's no other course— which is your way?  Rhet. 
Which is your way?  Log. 
Do you speak first.  Rhet. 
Nay, do you speak first, you are the better Man.  Log. 
Why, mine lies this way.  Rhet. 
Why so does mine; we'll go together.  Log. 
ay, But I must go this way to do a little business first.  Rhet. 
Why so must I.  Log. 
But I must walk here alone a little to think on't first.  Rhet. 
Why, and I must walk here alone a little first.  Log. 
Why, then fare you well; I can think on my business by the way.  Rhet. 
Why, and I can very well think on my business by the way.  Log. 
Why, you won't follow me? I am going to a Feast.  Rhet. 
Why, and I am going to a Feast.  Log. 
I am going to Ethicus.  Rhet. 
Why, and I am going to Ethicus.  Log. 
O you gods! which of you will come to deliver me? Well, if we must together, and if you will stick so close unto me; yet, good Mistress Tongue, do not cleave to the roof of my Mouth.  Rhet. 
No, no; your lip is all that I desire.  Exeunt Logicus & Rhetorica.  

ACTVS III. SCENA IIII.  MUSICA at one door: GEOGRAPHUS and PHANTASTES at another. 
TAra, ding de ding, ding de ding, lan, tan, dan, dido.  Geog. 
How now my nimble Crotchet? who was the first Fiddle-maker?  Mus. 
that's a question, Sir.  Geog. 
Why, for that reason I proposed it.  Mus. 
Why, for that reason you might have proposed many more.  Geog. 
ay, but Answer.  Mus. 
ay, but I must know first; 'tis a great controversy.  Geog. 
What then was the first kind of Instrument?  Mus. 
Why, that's as hard.  Geog. 
Why, I can tell.  Mus. 
What?  Geog. 
An Harp.  Mus. 
ay but you're deceived, I rather think 'twas a Bagpipe.  Geog. 
A Bagpipe? why prithee?  Mus. 
Why? marry, first understand this reason, and then I'll show you: You know every Art both draws its imitation from Nature, and labours to perfect it, which it does by finding comforts to preserve it: Music then at the first was found out as an antidote against grief: and by this means, when men were grieved, they cried Oh, and there was one Note: then Hey-ho, there were two Notes more. So, when they laughed, they observed three more by Ha, ha, ho. These being first joined together, and afterwards variously intermixed, were the first harmony in voice; which being repeated unto grieved minds, were as it were a pretty deluding of their sorrows; and these by observation were afterwards reduced to instrument—  Geog. 
I conceit it, Musica.  Mus. 
Thus, men perceiving that these notes were conceived in the belly, and afterwards, (as it were) formed in the passage of the throat, sowed Leather in the form of a Belly, or bag; and with a Reed made a long Neck unto it, and a Windpipe; which when they blew full of wind, and perceived it gave no sound, they cut many holes in the reed to let it out, and then alternately stopping the holes, they found an admirable variety of harmony; and as the holes serve for distinction of notes in a Wind-instrument, so do your frets on a stringed-instrument.  Geog. 
Indeed I think this a truth; for as the voice was before the Instrument, so the Wind-instrument before the stringed. But then how came your Trumpet up?  Mus. 
Why, on this manner: When Triton came to help the gods in the Wars of the Giants, he wanted a weapon, and finding the shell of a Fish, he did blow in't, which yielded a most hideous noise: the Giants thinking it had been some terrible beast, fled away affrighted, and since by a perfecting imitation, men have altered both the matter, and the form of that Instrument.  Geog. 
Nay, I do believe there is a great virtue in Music.  Mus. 
O Sir, 'tis your only medicine of the mind.  Geog. 
Indeed I think so, and that's the reason, 'tis likely, why Apollo is the god both of Music and Physic: and now I remember it, in one place where we came, in our travails, there were no Physicians, but all their sick folks were cured by Music; where was it, Phantastes? I have quite forgot.  Phant. 
Why 'twas in Crete Sir, where jupiter was nursed, and the Music was made with those alarums, which they sounded to drown the crying of jupiter, when he was in his swath-bands: in reward of which love, he procured of Apollo, in the favour of the Cretians, that at the sound of those Kettledrums all sick folks, whose time of death was not come, should without any languishing sickness immediately recover; and therefore the order is, when any one is sick, they carry him presently in a Litter to the Temple where these Drums are kept; and if he does not straightways recover, they carry him home again, as a man that must die, and so provide for his funeral.  Mus. 
Where is this Sir? in Crete?  Phant. 
Yes, in Crete.  Mus. 
ay, but I have heard, the Cretians are mighty liars.  Phant. 
Upon the Faith of a Traveller, the Honesty of a Courtier, and the Word of a Gentleman, 'tis a most confirmed truth.  Mus. 
Indeed these three are much about one value.  Geog. 
Well, Musica, I could talk with thee all day—  Phant. 
ay, and all night too.  Geog. 
But I cannot stay now; I'm afraid they stay for me at the banquet. Is thy Mistress there?  Music. 
Yes, I think, by this time.  Geog. 
Well, farewell till anon: you'll meet us at supper? won't you?  Music. 
Yes, yes; I'm going for Music. Exit Geogra.  Phant. 
Come, my pretty Pigeon, let's bill a little; is't possible, Phantastes and Musica should meet, and part without a kiss?— now farewell. Exit Phantastes.  Music. 
Ah: these Courtiers are liquorish-lipped: but I must go fetch the Music, To ra ding de ding, ding de ding, lan, tan dan dido. Exit Musica.   

ACTVS III. SCENA V.  
ETHICUS, GEOMETRES, LOGICUS, POETA, GRAMMATICUS, MAGUS, ASTRONOMIA, ARITHMETICA, RHETORICA, ASTROLOGIA, CHOLER.  
WElcome, welcome, all of you; i'good faith, I'm e'en young again, to see such a jolly company of my friends together: but, passion o' me! why, Oeconoma?  Oecon. 
ay, ay, presently, presently, She speaks from within .we're making all haste we can.  Ethic. 
Ah, there's a good housewife, neither meat o'th' table, nor cloth laid, nor any thing in a readiness. Good friends pardon us, we are somewhat unmannerly to make you stay thus; we'll talk till supper is served in; but where's Geographus? Enter GEOGRAPHUS and PHANTASTES .Oh here is; welcome, welcome.  Geogr. 
Thanks, They all salute him, & he them mutually, especially the Ladies .courteous Ethicus— save you gallants— fair Ladies—  Ethic. 
Phantastes, and Choler, [Enter MUSICA ]and thou Musica, now thou art come, be a little forward to make a supply for our backwardness, and step in to my wife to help out supper quickly: (Exeunt Phantast. Choler, & Musica )why 'tis well, 'tis well, now 'tis as it should be, all friends, all friends: but where's Historia?  Rhet. 
Historia? why, ask Poeta.  Poet. 
Me?  Rhet. 
ay, you; they say she's sick of love.  Ethic. 
Poeta, where's your man Melancholico?  Poet. 
Faith, when I was coming hither, he was in a dump, and therefore I thinking him not fit to come to a banquet, left him behind me; and indeed that's his fault, he will not commonly be merry in company.  Ethic. 
Logicus, where's your man Phlegmatico?  Logic. 
Faith, as I was coming, my Slaverer was at his Tobacco, but, I think, I made him smoke for his labour, and so would not let him come, for he would nothing but have spawled in your room, Phantastes, Choler, Musica, bring in Supper. and have turned your stomachs.  Choler. 
Well, remember this Phantastes.  Phant. 
What?  Choler. 
That you carry in the marchpane and not I, but I'll—  Phant. 
What? ain't I the better man?  Choler. 
Would supper were done: I'd bum you.  Geogr. 
What's the matter?  Phant. 
Why, Sir, he's angry that I brought in the marchpane.  Geogr. 
Phantastes, Choler, Musica, go out again Come, be mannerly.  Gram. 
Why, sirrah, Choler, will you still be quarreling?  Ethic. 
You should let him be my man a little; faith I should be as froward as he; we two should have a bickering once a day. (Choler to Phantast. as they come in with more service.  Choler. 
I would supper were done once for your sake.  Gram. 
Why, sirrah, are you still grumbling?  Oecon. 
Come, friends, you are all welcome, we have made you stay here too-long for a little sorry cheer; come husband will you place the guests?  Ethic. 
Sit down, you know your places; sit down (they all sit down )wife, bid them welcome.  Oecon. 
You are all heartily welcome, heartily welcome.  Ethic. 
Why, Musica, where are the Musicians?  Music. 
Here, Sir, here.  Ethic. 
Come on, play, feed you our ears, whilst we seed our bellies. The music plays; Geographus drinks to Astronomia; she to Geometria; he to Arithmetica she to Astrologia; she drinks to Astronomia, then privily casts in a powder: which being done, Phantastes sings.  Phant. 

O Happy state  
'bove power of fate  
Which you, blessed Arts, enjoy!  
You were little Gods,  
If you fell not at odds,  
And did not yourselves annoy.  
But when pride does once tickle,  
It makes us too fickle  
And vain:  
Till some good Old-men  
Do temper us then,  
And bring us in tune again.   

Then learn of me  
Thus wise to be  
To have a yielding mind;  
With weathercock art  
To play well your part  
And turn with each strong wind.  
So you shall by prevention  
Escape all contention  
And jars:  
So you shall be secure,  
And never endure  
Th' affliction of Learned wars.   

O harmless feast  
With Mirth increased,  
Where Music and Love do meet!  
Where the Piper does find  
A more delicate wind  
To make his pipe sound more sweet:  
Whiles his stick does belabour  
The head of his Tabour  
amain.  
Where the Wine in the bouls,  
And every tongue rolls,  
Yet never disturbs the brain.   

jove's Trojan boy  
Was no such joy,  
Nor all his Heavenly whores:  
There's no such delight  
By day or by night  
e'er felt by feigning wooers;  
As is the soft pleasure  
At such honest leisure  
To sport:  
When all are so merry,  
They sing till they're weary,  
And trip it in comely sort.   Ethic. 
Here, Logicus, you shall drink to Poeta,  Logic. 
I accept your Proposition, Sir; Poeta, to set a Conclusion to our former dissensions, and to make a plain Demonstration of reconcilement, I drink to you. He drinks.  Poet. 
With the most ingenuous freedom of a Poet, I accept it: Grammaticus, that our contention ending in love, may make a tragic-comedy, I drink to you. He drinks.  Gram. 
I protest to you, Sir, I do put all former wrongs in the preterpluperfect Tense, and am glad of this happy Conjunction, and that we are all of us in such a merry Mood: but by the way, my Masters, these noun-adjectives of the Feminine gender, sit all this while undrunk to: Astronomia. He offers to drink to Astronomia.—  Astron. 
Intruth, Grammaticus, I am not in Case to pledge you: I pledged Astrologia even now, and I am not since half well.  Gram. 
Arithmetica—  Arith. 
If you Count again, you shall find that I drunk last.  
Rhetorica— here's to moisten your eloquent tongue.  Rhet. 
An eloquent tongue is never dry, Astrologia will pledge you for me.  Gram. 
Astrologia—  Astrol. 
In troth I have been drinking my Belly full of Nectar; but just now, my thoughts were upon the present Conjunction of Mars and Venus.  Poet. 
Why how now, Grammaticus! who do you drink to? faith thou art now a Noun Substantive indeed, for thou standst alone by thyself, without being joined to any of these Adjectives.  Gram. 
Nay, do not you jest.  Poet. 
What? dost thou make a jester of me?  Mag. 
Nay, I Conjure you both; by our present meeting, that you go not out of the Circle of harmless mirth.  Poet. 
methinks I see a Direct line pass from the Eye of geometre's to Astronomia's.  Mag. 
Nay, will you, Poeta? you make Astronomia blush.  Poet. 
Some Aqua vitae, I say, for geometre's.  Mag. 
Why, Poeta?  Poet. 
Why, he's a dying I think, his eyes are fixed in's head already.  Mag. 
It may be, Poeta, you measure geometre's his looks by your own.  Poet. 
methinks I see a Direct line pass from the Eye of geometre's to Astronomia's.  Astron. 
I'm e'en stifled, I do not use to be in such a close Room, I love the Open Air.  Oecon. 
Alas! Astronomia's extreme ill. Exeunt Astronomia & Oeconoma.  Ethic. 
Friends, you are all heartily welcome, rest you here I pray, and we'll in with her. Exit Ethicus.  Mag. 
Astrologia, follow her, and see you be never from her all the while she's sick.  Astrol. 
I saw this disastrous chance in the stars, for as Mars and Venus were sporting, they were beheld by the rest of the envious gods. Exit.  Rhet. 
I'll in too, to sit and Talk with her, whiles she's sick. Exit Rhetorica.  Arith. 
I'll in too, that I may—  Geogr. 
Be made sit down again.  Music. 
Alas, my Mistress!  Geogr. 
she did not look well.  Music. 
Astronomia sick? than all the heaven's awry, and my music's quite out of tune. Exit Musica.  Geogr. 
'Twas, I fear me, a fit of an Ague.  Mag. 
Astronomia in a fit of an Ague? I never understood the Motus trepidationis of the Heaven before.  Geogr. 
Musicians, depart the room. The Musicians go out.  Poet. 
By jove I came to be merry, and I will be merry. Here's an health to Astronomia. He drinks.  Geog. 
Here's a health to Astronomia. He drinks.  Geom. 
Here's a health to Astronomia. He drinks.  Poet. 
Sir, you wrong us all, not to take off your full measure.  Geom. 
Oh, Sir, they that drink with Measure, drink without Measure.  Arith. 
ay, indeed, for they that Number their cups, commonly Multiply their cups.  Poet. 
He loves not Astronomia, that does not pledge her a whole one.  Geom. 
Well, because 'tis to her, I'll do't, He drinks.  Logic. 
I can't drink.  Gram. 
Nor I.  Mag. 
Nor I.  Arith. 
You won't, I know, require it of me.  Poet. 
Well, and you won't, here's to you that will: A second health to Astronomia. He drinks.  Geogr. 
A second health to Astronomia. He drinks.  Geom. 
A second health to Astronomia. He drinks.  Phant. 
By jove I must be merry, and I will be merry; can you sing?  Geogr. 
Begin, we'll follow.  Geom. 
Begin, we'll follow.  Poet. 
Have at you then.  
FIll up my bowl to the brim-a,  
That my lips in wine may swim-a;  
That my Muse may slow  
And the world may it know:  
Fill up my bowl to the brim-a  Poeta. Geog. Geom. simul. 
That my Muse may slow  
And the world may it know:  
Fill up my bowl to the brim-a.  Geog. 
he's a puny cannot swagger,  
Carouse and yet never stagger,  
But be soberly drunk  
And closely have his punk:  
he's a puny cannot swagger.  Geog. Poeta. Geom. simul. 
But he soberly drunk  
And closely have his punk:  
he's a puny cannot swagger.  Geom. 
O my jacob's staff is broken,  
And that's a disastrous token,  
My Compasses did slide,  
My Ruler slipped aside:  
O my jacob's staff is broken.  Geom. Geog. Poeta. simul. 
My Compasses did slide  
My Ruler slipped aside  
O my jacobs-staff is broken.  Poeta. 
Come kiss, come kiss, my Corinna,  
And still that sport we'll beginn-a,  
That our souls so may meet  
In our lips, while they greet:  
Come kiss, come kiss, my Corinna.  Poeta. Geog. Geom. simul. 
That our souls so may meet  
In our lips, while they greet:  
Come kiss, come kiss, my Corinna.  Poeta. 
Here's a health to Astronomia.  Geog. 
Here's a health to Astronomia.  Geom. 
Here's a health to Astronomia. Prithee Poeta do thou sing a Catch alone, and we'll sing the Close with thee.  Poeta. 
A match, hay boys.  

THe black Jack  
The merry black jack  
As it is tossed on by-a  
grows,  
Flows,  
Till at last they fall to blows,  
And make their noddles cry-a.   Poeta. Geog. Geom. simul. 
— Grows,  
Flows,  
Till at last the fall to blows,  
And make their noddles cry-a.  
The brown bowl,  
The merry brown bowl,  
As it goes round about-a.  
Fill  
Still  
Let the world say what it will  
And drink your drink all out-a.  Poeta. Geog. Geom. simul. 
— Fill  
Still  
Let the world say what it will  
And drink your drink all out-a.  Poeta. 
The deep Can  
The merry deep Can  
As thou dost freely quaff a.  
Sing.  
Fling.  
Be as merry as a King  
And Sound a lusty laugh a.  Poeta. Geog. Geom. simul. 
Sing.  
Fling.  
Be as merry as a King  
And sound a lusty laugh a.  Poet. 
Here's a health to Astronomia. He drinks.  Geogr. 
Faith, I can drink no more, Poeta.  Geom. 
Nor I.  Poet. 
How? not pledge me? Choler, fill the bowl again; by jove, not pledge me? pledge me, pledge me, Geographus: for by jove—  Geogr. 
What?  Poet. 
I will drink with thee, and I will sing with thee, and I will fight with thee.  Mag. 
Nay, pray let's have no fighting.  Poet. 
By jove. I will drink with thee, I will sing with thee, and I will fight with thee.  Geogr. 
By jove you're almost foxed.  Poet. 
By jove (He drinks )you lousy-shirted rogue, you sit above me? did not you beg entertainment of me other day?  Geogr. 
Sleep, sleep, Poeta. Exit Geographus.  Phant. 
A rope of a drunken fool; I've lost my supper by this: I must follow my Master. Exit Phant.  Poet. 
Ten-toes, I know you're a good footman; Come, geometre's, I hope you'll sit squarely to it still.  Geom. 
Nay, if I cannot Rule others, I will Rule myself. Exit Geometres.  Arith. 
And if geometre's depart, Arithmetica will be none of the Number. Exit Arith.  Poet. 
Farewell, Hostess; we shall be sure to have no reckoning now Arithmetica's gone: and yet I'll pay you somewhat, Clinch-fist. (He beats Logicus, and overturns the Table; then falls on Grammaticus, and Choler. )Hay tables! Hay!  Logic. 
Well, you drunken rogue, I'll have an Opposition for you before Polites, that you shall not be able to Answer to. Exit Logicus.  Poet. 
Farewell blockhead: now pedagogue, pedagogue: I must say my Part to you too.  Gram. 
ay, but, I can't stay to Hear you, now.  Poet. 
Choler, will not you fight for your Master, valiantly?  Choler. 
No, I thank you, Sir, your moisture does allay my heat. Exit Choler.  Poet. 
Are you all gone? then, Apparent rari nantes in gurgite vasto. I am King, I am King: by Tantalus I am as dry as an Horse. He falls down and sleeps. Magus charms him .O, some drink, some drink.  Mag. 
Alte dormi, Irioni, Chiriori, Essera, Chuder, Fere; Pax, Caspor, Prax, Melchior, Max, Balthasar, Ymax, Adimax, Galbes, Galbat, Galdes, Galdat, Hax, pax, max, alte dormi. Poeta snores: Magus waves his rod over him, and runs round about him. Oh, ho, ho, ho, ho, ho; O, ho, ho, ho, ho, ho. dragon's fly swiftly, Dragons fly swiftly.   

ACTVS III. SCENA VI.  
MAGUS, PHYSIOGNOMUS, CHEIROMANTES, POETA.  Omnes. 
Dancing about Poeta. O, ho, ho, ho, ho, ho. O, ho, ho, ho, ho, ho. O, ho, ho, ho, ho, ho.  Magus. 
They go leisurely about him, saying this charm .Ye gods that dwell  
In darkest cell  
Of lowest Hell,  Physiog. 
Vouchsafe this grace  
A little space  
To guard this place.  Cheito. 
Let now a deep  
And moistening sleep  
His watch here keep.  Magus. 
We would obtain  
This, for this swain,  
Whom wine doth chain.  Physiog. 
That so since day  
Is fled, we may  
Make him our prey.  Omnes. 
O ho, ho, ho, ho, ho. O ho, ho, ho, ho. O ho, ho, Dancing about him .ho, ho, ho, hoy—  Poeta. 
O ho, ho, ho, ho, ho. O ho, ho, ho, ho, ho. In his sleep.  Cheiro. 
What a Rogue's this? he laughs at us in his Dream.  Poeta. 
O ho, ho, ho, ho, ho. O ho, ho, ho, ho, ho: In his sleep .Some drink, Tantalus, some drink, some drink; or I will—  Phys. 
What will he do?  Poeta. 
By the— by the—  Mag. 
He's about to swear sure by somewhat.  Poeta. 
By the great— By the great—  Cheiro. 
He will swear by the Great.  Poeta. 
By the great— By the great—  Phys. 
'Tis so great 'twon't come out.  Poeta. 
By the great Hogshead at Heidelberg, Logicus is a Blockhead.  Phys. 
Well said i'faith, I perceive there is some remembrance of one's friends in Wine.  Poeta. 
Corinna, will you kiss? will you kiss cockle-kiss? close, close, you Whore.  Mag. 
Oh, here's a brave Dreamer!  Poeta. 
I will make this Verse like a nuthook-like a nut-hook and then pull down— pull down the Moon with it. He begins to rise.  Phys. 
Sure, Magus, you han't charmed him well.  Mag. 
Let me alone; I warrant you.  Poeta. 
Come kiss, my Pigeon, come kiss, my pretty Corinna, Nibble a little, my Love; nibble again, and again.  Mag. 
Hay day! he's at's Hexameter and Pentameter Verses in our tongue: i'faith I think in some such humour this kind of Verses was first made amongst us.  Poeta. 
My purse is richer than th' Mines rich India brings forth.  Cheiro. 
You shall not need to make a short Verse to that Sir: we'll be very short with you. He is about to pick his pocket.  Poeta. 
Take off your whole one, or take a sowse o' the chops. Poeta strikes Cheiromantes  Cheiro. 
Beshrew his drunken fingers; Magus you ha' not charmed him well.  Mag. 
Altè dormi, pax, prax, max; aliè dormi, Galbos, Galbat: Galdes, Galdat: pax, prax, max, alte dormi. Poeta falls down again.  Phys. 
See what's in his pocket. Cheiromantes takes out a purse and looks in it.  Cheiro. 
A murrain on't, here's nothing but a Purse with a paper in't.  Mag. 
Let's see it, why, what's here? Verses! He takes the paper and reads it.  Anacreon's {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman}, etc. 
Translated by me upon occasion of Ethicus his inviting me to Supper.  
The fruitful Earth does drink the rain;  
Trees drinks the fruitful Earth again.  
The Sea does drink the liquid Air;  
By the suns beams the Sea-waves are  
Drunk up; which is no sooner done,  
But straight the Moon drinks up the Sun.  
Why then, companions, do you think  
I may not with like freedom drink?  
This had been lost, if I had not given the Rogue his Anacreon again. Is this the rich Purse? Come, i'faith we'll e'en serve for a Voider, and carry him away, whiles he is drunk, rid the room of him.  Omnes. 
Room for a Poet, Room for a Poet, Room for a Poet. Exeunt Omnes, carrying away Poeta on their shoulders.    

ACTVS IIII.  

SCENA. I.  
POLITES, GEOGRAPHUS.  
ANd have you been in italy too?  Geog. 
In the most parts of the World, Sir.  Polites. 
You have disposed your observations by heads! have you not?  Geog. 
They are yet Sir but a miscellany, but I am now in reducing of them.  Polites. 
And what may the sum of them be?  Geog. 
Sir, they are principally drawn from the People, and Country: discoursing upon the policy, and natural disposition of the first; as on the situation, and fertility of the second.  Polites. 
Hum, the method is sufficiently approvable: but I like that very well that you place Policy first; and would wish you to prosecute that fully, with the most subtle examinations of your purest judgement: 'twill be worth your travail: and 'tis a main fault of your common Geographers, that nowadays do rather garnish the margin of a Map, then materially describe it; and only draw a company of lines through it; as if they had rid over the Country to take notice only of the highways; which yet a carrier's Horse knows better than they; neglecting in the mean time more solid observations; whilst their fancies (I will not say judgements) are weakly satisfied with these fruitless superficialities; not unlike your sedentary Students, who for the attaining of a little glory with some few less judicious of their own Sect, stirred up with a contemplative ambition, earnestly prosecute those studies, which themselves shall never reduce unto practice, in the actions of their life.  Geog. 
Sir, the observation of government was my first and principal intendment, especially in some secrets of state, as yet (to my knowledge) not observed, at least not revealed by any.  Polites. 
As what?  Geog. 
I will show unto you.  Polites. 
But how could you come unto the knowledge of them?  Geog. 
You shall understand that too. The secret is concerning the happy detection of such, as from enemy-states, are usually sent to the subversion of a Land; my means of attaining to the knowledge of this Mystery, was my acquaintance with a Gentleman in italy, who having been one of the most practised Intelligencers in Europe, upon the death of his Lord, who employed him, fell into great wants; when, out of the fullness of a grieved mind, and the rather to excite in me a compassion of his griefs, unfolded unto me the whole secret.  Polites. 
Proceed.  Geog. 
The Italian Lord, that employed this Gentleman, furnished him always with money, that he might cast himself into what shape he would, then sent him to the enemy's Land, where living, (either concealing his own Country, or professing a dislike of it) and insinuating himself into the acquaintance of men next to the best, would, commonly by entertaining their humours, and giving occasion of such discourse at any meeting, with much Art and ease, allure every man, to discover (even for glory, to show who could show most) all intended and secret employments into foreign Lands; by this means he would learn the whole design, agent, time, and whatsoever other necessary circumstance; then the person to be employed, being commonly of estate not beyond himself, he would upon some sought (though but slight) occasion, grow so far acquainted with him, as to entreat the courtesy of Nations of him, to carry a Letter from him to that Country; which being with all courtesy granted, he would, against the time of his departure, provide a Letter fairly written, containing nothing but some complement, or lighter business to his friend—  Polites. 
Who? to his Lord?  Geog. 
No, Sir, but to another agent, whom his Lord employed at home, as this Gentleman abroad.  Polites. 
Proceed then.  Geog. 
Withal giving his friend in charge, upon their love, to give all courteous entertainment to the bearer thereof; as, to provide him a fit lodging, with all other compliments of friendship: then reading this Letter to the Gentleman, to free him from all suspicion of false dealing, would seal it in his presence, and deliver it to him—  Polites. 
What device was there in this?  Geog. 
This Letter, Sir, being written by the Art of Steganography, contained the whole intendment of this employed Messenger. That Art (as Trithemius has at large discovered, or rather taught it) proceeds upon many devices, as the putting together every first letter of a word, or every last, or every second, according to the compact before laid between these two friends. Upon the receipt of which, proceeded first a most courteous entertaining, and then upon the maturity of his intendments, an artificial detection of all his designs.  Polites. 
All this bears a just probability of truth. Well, Geographus, we shall take a further notice of your wants and worth; and since you have ingeniously discovered both your free education, present state, and unavoidable affection to Astronomia, and, as you say, hers mutually to you, I shall, I trust, effectually, in your behalf, remove the unwillingness of her Mother Physica. But withal, I hold it a course, not altogether without Policy, to inquire of Astronomia, the dislikes, for which she does except against you, and therein by a prevenient discretion, exactly to manifest a reformation; for this time the expectation of some business admits not a further continuance of our discourse.  Geog. 
I shall rest, Sir, at the bounty of your virtue.  Exit Geographus. Polites. 
A Gentleman of parts worth the taking notice of; well, such wits must be nourished: 'tis the saying of my Tacitus: Ingenia, studique oppresseris faciliùs quàm revocaveris; & I remember he there shows an analogy between men's wits and their bodies: They are (saith he) both of them long a making, but soon marred. And indeed, young wits that are worth the nourishing, when they see themselves neglected, are too-too prone to fall to desperate resolutions, arguing thus with themselves, That if Virtue and Learning cannot advance them; by a reason from the contrary, neither Vice nor Ignorance can debase them; thus from bad premises drawing a worse conclusion, they overthrow in a moment the workmanship of many years. But my Kinswoman Historia said she would be here by this. Oh, here she comes.   

ACTVS IV. SCENA II.  
POLITES, HISTORIA.  
NOw Cousin, what? always sad? always sad?  Histo. 
Do you admire at my sadness, when you know, nay when you are the cause of it?  Polites. 
I? Cousin? how? how?  Histo. 
Your continual declamations, Sir, against my most loved Poeta, a man whose praises admit no Hyperbole; no, they transcend all; and whose worth we may admire rather than express.  Polites. 
Why Cousin? my declamations ha' been only against his faults, not his person, and so far—  Histo. 
Nay, for your State-distinctions you may reserve them to yourself, you can love and hate the same man at the same time by a distinction; I do but plainly relate the truth unto you, and I think there is hardly any man could more violently have inveighed against him then yourself; excepting old froward Ethicus; his age indeed must always be correcting somebody.  Polites. 
Why, but why should you regard him, when it seems he little regards you?  Histo. 
Marry, and little reason he hath, when he sees the best of my friends, yourself, and Ethicus to neglect him. But otherwise I'm sure he did love me once: there have been of the Historias that have been well beloved by Poets, and those the most renowned in all ages: as by admired Homer, the greatest glory and Shame of Greece, the one for his worth, the other for his wants: then by divine Maro, that beautiful wonder of Nature; and especially by one Lucan, a worthy Gentleman of Rome, besides many more; that if you would vouchsafe but to grace him, his Laurel would be the crown of your glory.  Polites. 
ay but he bears love to Astronomia.  Hist. 
I understand so much: but I think that rather the exiliency of some passion, than any consistency of a settled desire. I have indeed heard also of some of the Astronomias that have been beloved by Poets; as by Manilius, Pontanus, and some other, who have written whole Books in the praise of their beauties; but it seems their beauties had such small divinity in them, that they could not raise, to any height of poetic rapture, the wits of their admirers. And there was also one Lucretius, a Roman Gentleman, in former times that fell in love with Physica, she from whom Physica the mother of Astronomia derives now both her name and lineage, which Gentleman, in the passion of his love, writ books in the praise of her beauty; but what wrinkle-faced Verses they are, let the present age judge; and if her beauty was like his lines, sure she was passed her threescore, when he fell in love with her; but alas, there was never any of that family that ever came near the Historias for beauty.  Polites. 
Well, Cousin, then what is the employment wherewith you will task me?  Hist. 
Why, if you mean to have me alive long, change your dislike of Poeta into love, and reform him if you will, but not hate him; admonish him, entreat him, woo him, and in a word, win him unto me; and those hymns of your praises, and relations of your glory shall be put in the mouth of posterity; that sooner shall the Commonwealth die, than your fame.  Polites. 
Well, Cousin, you have now enough admonished me, entreated me, wooed me, and in a word won me: refer the finding out of means, and the accomplishing of your desire to the privacy of my meditations.  Histor. 
Reverend Polites, pardon the unmannerliness of my disordered passions; love resisted grows rude and furious: but I will not instruct your wisdom; only remember my life lies in your hands.  Exit Historia. Polites. 
And that shall not perish if I can save it. There are many accusations in against this Poeta, and some of them I perceive will be prosecuted; he has bad, and good parts; he has a wild head, yet may be reformed, and then there's a man saved: a good purchase; nay, Historia is saved, that's a double. Well, then since I must love him, I will save him: if he prove good, I win two; if bad, 'twill be but the loss of one, of Historia; who already professes, that, without him, she shall be lost.  Exit Polites.  

ACTVS IV. SCENA III.  
ASTRONOMIA, ASTROLOGIA, ARITHMETICA, POETA, MEDICUS, MUSICA.  
OH, I'm so hot, I could drink a whole River of water.  Poeta. 
Nay, if you talk of drinking, I could drink my self half a dozen Helicons off at a draft: Musica, fetch a flagon of Wine.  Astron. 
Nay, let it be pure Water.  Med. 
Have a care what you do: 'tis as much as your life's worth.  Poeta. 
By jove we will have our liquour about us. Go Wench, why, Sir, should not she drink?  Med. 
Why, to drink in the heat of an Ague is present death; and I remember Galen in his Book de consuetudine, relates a story of Arius a peripatetic, who died suddenly, being forced to drink a full draft of cold water in the heat of his Fever; though according to the prescriptions of his Physicians: yet, I confess, in him there was another adjoined cause, which Galen in the same place makes mention of, to wit, his stomach being always very cold, he resolved on a perpetual abstinence from all cold nourishments, so that this adventitious cold of the water he drank, wrought not only against his disease, but also against his constitution.  Poeta. 
Oh that was it, that was it; then fill out the liquour.  Med. 
You Poets would make mad Physicians; or at the best but desperate Paracelsians; But Astronomia, you stir too much; and so the heat of your disease increases to an inflammation: you must rest more, you must rest more.  Astron. 
Nay, I shall never live, if I leave moving.  Med. 
ay, but not so fast; you walk as fast as you do when you are in health.  Astrol. 
Indeed, methinks, she keeps always the same pace.  Arith. 
ay, but if you mark it, 'tis not a direct Progression, but a kind of giddy turning Round, which proceeds from a lightness of the head, caused by her disease.  Med. 
I dislike your diet; for in the very hottest of Summer, when the Sun is in Cancer, you eat the hottest meat, feeding altogether upon Crab; which two concurrent heats of the Meat and of the Weather, are able to cast any man into the inflammation of a Fever.  Astron. 
Indeed, I confess that; and 'tis at that season, my only diet.  Med. 
ay, but 'tis bad; and again 'tis very good to feed upon variety of meat.  Poeta. 
Say you so! marry, I think, you'll prove a paradoxical Paracelsian yourself; if you hold such Tenants: for you know, Sir, 'tis the most received opinion of Physicians, that variety of meats disturbs concoction.  Med. 
Sir, I hold that opinion rather to argue the author's superstition, than judgement: for our nature delighteth in variety, and those meats which the stomach doth with pleasure desire, it doth most embracingly attract, and concoct most faithfully, besides the substance of our bodies consisting of a various nature, as moisture, air, and the like, one of these parts may be more spent then another, by labour, or other means; so that a man had need, for the undoubted supply of all these parts, receive a great variety of nourishments, that there may be a reparation for whatsoever the body does evacuate.  Poeta. 
I understand Sir.  Med. 
Besides, Astronomia, going abroad you never take care in what Air you walk.  Astron. 
Indeed, I confess, I am too neglective of that.  Med. 
Oh, that's a chief matter to be provided for; for the very same air sometimes is hurtful for one part of the body, and good for another.  Poeta. 
How? is that possible?  Med. 
Sir, 'tis a truth observed by Guido Cauliacensis; and in particular of the air of Paris; where, if the same man have a wound in his head, and another in his thigh; it hurts the one and heals the other.  Poeta. 
That's pretty i'faith: the reason, the reason, Master Physician.  Med. 
'Tis thus, Sir, the air there is cold and moist, and therefore most hurtful for the head; and again, the same air by an obscuration of the spirits, a degravation of the blood, and a condensation of the humours, whereby they are made less quick to flow down, does therefore make the wounds of the thighs more curable, whiles the course of the humours is intercepted, whose defluence or flowing down would hinder the cure of the wound.  Poeta. 
You Physicians, I perceive, sometimes have some of Apollo in you.  Mus. 
Pray, Medicus, tell me one thing; you're a Physician; I have heard Geographus relate of a place in his Travels, where the people are healed by Music: is that possible?  Med. 
O yes: I'll confirm it by mine own experience: I knew a young Gentle man that married a young Gentlewoman; who being extraordinarily fair, and he as melancholy, grew into a great jealousy, that she had made him a Cuckold, upon which conceit, at the first but light, the strength of his melancholy and jealousy working together; he fell into a strong persuasion that he had Horns: the best Physicians were sent for, used all medicines and inventions to cure him, nothing prevailed, whereupon they left him, entreating his wife to be patient, and expect his recovery in time. Away they went, and none but a little boy was left in the room to tend the Gentleman, when upon a sudden there comes me by, a Bag-pipe-player, at the sound of whose Pipe the Gentleman suddenly arose, leaps about the Chamber, beats his head against the wall, so long, till at last he had broke his face in divers places that the blood gushed out; upon the effusion of which melancholy blood, that had corrupted his brain and fantasy, the Gentleman's Horns were beaten off against the wall, and the Gentlewoman became as honest a woman after that time, as any in Europe.  Poeta. 
In good faith, you Physicians are the only fellows in the world to tell Tales by Gentlewomen's Bedsides, whiles they are sick.  Mus. 
ay, this Cure was by the effusion of blood, but they whom Geographus told of, were healed without any such means.  Med. 
I'll satisfy you in that by another particularity of experience: I knew another Gentleman, who being very sick of a contagious disease, and finding no remedy by Medicine, the Physicians caused Musicians to be brought into the room, and play; at the hearing of which Music, he suddenly leaps and continued dancing so long, till the laborious exagitation of his whole body, had by sweat and breathing dissipated the contagion.  Poeta. 
I wonder you Physicians do not turn Travelers, you'd have an advantage beyond them all, by making good your Relations, by giving a reason for them.  Med. 
O by no means, Sir; for if we should travail into foreign Lands, our skill would there fail us; by reason of the difference of the Country, and our ignorance of their constitutions and diet.  Astron. 
Musica, some drink; methinks, I have not one jot of moisture in me.  Med. 
Musica, fetch none, she shall drink no more.  Astron. 
I must drink, the World was not in such a combustion at Phaeton's driving the Chariot of the Sun, as I am in now.  Astrol. 
Come, come, Medicus, the strictness of your prescriptions must be dispensed with, a little.  Med. 
Will you spoil her, Astrologia?  Astrol. 
I'll warrant you, she'll never die of this disease, I have calculated her Nativity, to know so much beyond your Art: the sixth House of her Horoscope, wherein all her diseases are Prefiguratively registered, promises a better issue of her sickness then so: beside, she shall have an happy Womb, for I find in her Horoscope, Venus in her Exaltation, to wit, in Pisces, and jupiter in the fift House, the Radiation of Venus falling on the First House, and of jupiter on the Eleventh, Luna being in the Seventh, illustrating the Fift House with a Sextile Radiation; she shall have a beautiful Daughter, her name shall be Optica: there shall appear at her Birth four Suns, and as many Rainbows, and the Air over-against these Rainbows, shall seem to be full of Looking-glasses, and in the middle of each Rainbow shall appear a peacocks tail, which being reflected from the Looking-glasses, shall project an infinity of colours in the Air.  Med. 
Astronomia, you go too much, you'll never leave your Walking, and if Copernicus were alive again, i'faith he'd make you stand still.  Astron. 
Some drink. She drinks and falls.  Music. 
Help, Astronomia falls.  Poeta. 
marry, Heavens forbid.  Medic. 
ay, here's your drink.  Arith. 
Ah, Astrologia, you made no Reckoning of this sickness, I shall scarce e'er trust you again, as long as I know you: Come, let's have her in, let's have her in. Exeunt omnes.   

ACTVS IV. SCENA IIII.  
MAGUS, PHYSIOGNOMUS, CHEIROMANTES.  
NOw my sweet Devils, I am even sick with expecting when Medicus will come and visit me: I fear, his physic cannot work upon Poeta: that rogues Verses, I think, are a countercharm against all our conjurations: a rope on his six-footed lousy Hexameters: sure, the slaves skin is enchanted; the quilting of Ajax shield was but a thin Chevril to it.  Physiog. 
Why, but do you think 'tis impenetrable?  Magus. 
Oh, far tougher than a tanner's: I have heard of a Poet, that having been buried a matter of two or three hundred years, has been taken up again whole, without the least perishing of his skin, as fair as any Vellome.  Cheiro. 
Nay, by this Hand, I hold them to be everlasting villains.  Physiog. 
And I know by his looks, if he once settle his affection upon a wench, he'll pursue her more swiftly than ever Apollo did Daphne; for he'll overtake her before her Metamorphosis.  Cheiro. 
ay, and I know the rascal to have a soft and moist Hand, by which I also infallibly know he loves: for take a Poet without his wine & his wench; and if he make not dry, pitiful dry Verses, I'll forswear Fortune-telling as long as I live.  Magus. 
But, I hope, that wench shall not be Astronomia.  Physiog. 
ne'er fear that: I have seriously observed (taking an opportunity the other day to look on her) the whole composure of her Face; and first for her beauty, I must confess it absolute; for there are the two causes of all beauty; a most exquisite Symmetry, or correspondent commensuration of the parts; and an exact mixture of colours, which adds unto the proportion an incomprehensible pulchritude: since which time, I have taken a like view of Geographus and geometre's; now for their heights, Geographus is somewhat lower than she; but geometre's is of her pitch just; for the lines of proportion in their faces, I must confess, I can hardly judge which is most like her, well, I hope yet 'twill be geometre's, or if Geographus do win her, 'twill be by his comely deportment: i'faith I wish him well, but we must work for them that feel us in the fist.  Magus. 
Well, Ravens, croak here, and whosoever comes by, make a prey of him; in the mean time I'll to Astrologia, for I know not what's the reason on't, but my Spirits cannot inform me of any thing she does, so that I must of necessity to Astrologia, to know how things proceed: but there's one Galilaus an exquisite Mathematician, an Italian: whom I came very lately acquainted with, by admirable luck; and he has promised to help me to a glass, by which I shall see all things as perfectly represented in Astronomia's house, as if I were there: till which time I must take the pains to have it by relation; but to your charge, to your charge; croak Ravens, croak.   

ACTVS IV. SCENA V.  
PHYSIOGNOMUS, CHEIROMANTES, SANGVIS.  Cheiro. 
HEre comes somebody, Physiognomus; set a good Face on't and Affront him; and I'll set my Fingers a work, presently.  Physiog. 
Hold thy Hands there, 'tis Sanguis, he's of our side, stay a little.  Sang. 
Well, I shrewdly suspect my Master for this physic: but mum, I am o'erheard, I fear.  Physiog. 
How now, Sanguis? why dost thou blush so?  Sang. 
Do I blush?  Cheiro. 
I'm sure thou look'st as red as fire; I think all the Blood in thy body is in thy face.  Sang. 
Well, well, all your words will not make me a jot redder than I am: but, if you talk of blushing, I think you have more need to blush, if you knew the report that goes of you.  Physiog. 
Of us?  Sang. 
ay, of you; but especially of Cheiromantes.  Cheiro. 
Of me? what?  Sang. 
Nothing, but that you are a Cutpurse.  Cheiro. 
I defy mine accusers, and I call honesty itself to witness, that I get my living by my finger's ends.  Sang. 
Come, come, leave these protestations: a bad cause is better defended by silence, than argument.  Physiog. 
Faith 'tis true; let us be friends: and since thy Master Medicus has taught thee to Kill, we'll teach thee to Steal: but honestly, Sanguis, honestly.  Cheiro. 
We three will set upon the next man we meet.  Sang. 
I would 'twere Choler that broke my head tother day: o' that condition, I'd stay; but my Master has sent me to Magus. I must begone.  Enter CHOLER. Physiog. 
Nay, stay a little longer now, Sanguis: who comes yonder? do you know his Face?  Sang. 
Well, you woe will help me?  Cheiro. 
My Hand shall be always ready to help my friend.  Sang. 
Choler gives Sanguis a box on the ear, and they fall to cuffs .Choler, I'm Sanguis, and here's my head.  Choler. 
Sanguis, I'm Choler and here's my hand.  Enter MELANCHOLICO. Melan. 
How? three against one? Hercules himself could not fight with such disadvantage: there's no ingenuity in this; I'll take his part for pity-sake at adventure, be it right or wrong. He helps Choler  Physiog. 
O my nose, my nose—  Choler. 
I'll make you too Sanguis cry your Bloody nose before I ha' done.  Cheiro. 
O my hand! my hand! O you rogue, you bow it quite double almost.  Enter MUSICA with a pack and a bottle of drink. Music. 
Why men, beasts, furies, what do you mean?  Melan. 
Choler, Choler, draw thy knife, and flit Physiognomus his nose.  Physiog. 
Ah you dull rogue, do you kick?  Enter PHLEGMATICO with a pipe of Tobacco. Music. 
Oh, Phlegmatico! thou'rt welcome; but prithee throw away thy pipe; unless 'twere one could make them dance after it, and so cool their fury.  Phleg. 
Why, ho!  Music. 
Orpheus, they say, by music held beasts by the ears; let Musica then hold the beastly furies of you, that are now by the ears.  Phleg. 
Why, ho! They leave fighting.  Melan. 
He has picked my pocket. Sirrah, Cheiromantes, you rogue, where's my handkercher?  Phleg. 
Nay, give him his handkercher, I saw you take it: there, there is thy handkercher, Melancholico: why I thought thou hadst been no fighter.  Melan. 
i'faith, ingenuity made me fight, when I saw three upon one.  Music. 
Come, come, for shame, be friends; you shall all be friends before you part.  Melan. 
Nay, I'm angry with nobody: I did but fight, to make them leave fighting.  Physiog. 
Nor we; for the quarrel was not ours.  Cheir. 
Nor we; for the quarrel was not ours.  Phleg. 
I thought 'twas Choler, and Sanguis, they still are provoking one another: What hast thou in thy bottle, Musica? Nepenthe to reconcile the Gods?  Music. 
i'faith here's drink to reconcile these furies, if they will?  Phleg. 
Come, Musica, do you begin, and we'll all dance after thy pipe.  Music. 
You have spoke truer than you think, for there is a Piper coming after me, and somebody else; they'll be here anon: well, here's to you all then. she drinks. He drinks.  Melan. 
Phlegmatico, here's to thee.  Phleg. 
Sanguis, here's to thee.  Sang. 
Choler, here's to thee.  Choler. 
Cheiromantes, have at you.  Cheiro. 
Work. (Choler drinks) Physiognomus, will you taste this liquour?  Physiog. 
Play off: (Cheiromantes drinks) Well then, I am last, I'll drink to you all; I'll leave ne'er a jot: (He drinks) there, Musica, there's thy bottle.  Music. 
Sanguis and Choler shake hands; are you friends?  Sang. 
With all my heart.  Choler. 
With all my heart.  Music. 
Cheiromantes, they say, you can tell fortunes; is it true?  Cheiro. 
Try me.  Music. 
Let's know all our fortunes then.  Cheiro. 
Come on, let me see your hand, sweet Musica: you shall be beloved of two, a Courtier and a Scholar; you shall love the Courtier more; but the Scholar shall have you; and it shall so come to pass, that the Courtier shall afterward be your servant: your husband shall be exceeding melancholy: you shall have three sons; the first shall be called by his father's name (but I know not what that shall be) and he shall be extreme discontent and solitary; and if he prevent a consumption, he may live till forty; for longer he cannot, being of a cold and dry constitution: the second shall be called Timido, and he'll be endanger of being bit with a mad dog; which if he scape, he may live till fifty: the third shall be called jucundo; the other two took after their father; but he'll take after his mother; he will be exceedingly given to good cheer, music, and women: he will be in danger of a Surfeit; and of Fire; and if he scape these two, especially burning, he may live to be an old man.  Phleg. 
Tell me mine next.  Cheiro. 
You, Phlegmatico; 'twill be long ere you can get you a wife; yet you'll have one, and one daughter; the child will die very young, of the black jaundice, and your wife of the dropsy.  Phleg. 
Sirrah, I saw you steal before, and now I hear you lie, you rogue.  Melan. 
Tell me mine next.  Cheiro. 
I'll tell you yours in your ear. He whispers in Melancholico's ear.  Melan. 
Thanks, dear Cheiromantes.  Sang. 
Nay, and fortunes be so good that are told in ones ear; I'll have mine told in my care too.  Cheiro. 
Thus 'tis then. He whispers in his ear.  Sang. 
Pish, this is no such fine fortune.  Choler. 
Tell me mine openly.  Cheiro. 
Why, this 'tis: You, Choler, shall be somewhat happy in your wife: her name shall be Poenitentia; you shall have two children; and one shall take only after you, his name shall be Furioso. He shall die in his young age, in an Alehouse, of a stab in at the mouth, which shall pass thorough his tongue, and brains. The other child shall be a daughter; she shall take after her mother; her name shall be Lacryma, a modest sober girl, and one that shall be well beloved by wise men.  Choler. 
Well, this is a pretty mixed fortune; now, what's thine own fortune and thy fellows?  Cheiro. 
Oh, stark nought, stark nought; I'll conceal them.  Music. 
Then fare you well; I can stay no longer.  Sang. 
i'faith you shan't go yet; what have you in your pack?  Music. 
What's that to you?  Melan. 
prithee, Musica, tell me, what thou hast in thy pack?  Music. 
Why, because you speak kindly now, and entreat me, I'll show you.  Melan. 
Hay, brave! what's here?  Sang. 
Morris-bells?  Phleg. 
And waistcoats, and napkins?  Choler. 
Why, how cam'st thou by them?  Music. 
Why, thus: my Mistress had been ill a good while, and because I tended her very carefully; she gave me leave to recreate myself today; and i'faith I light on merry company, where they used these jinglers: and when they had done, they prayed me to carry them home with this bottle of drink.  Sang. 
Faith, and there were enough, we'd dance.  Music. 
Enough? now I think on't, there's just enough, there's six pair.  Sang. 
Faith we'll to it then, but what wouldst thou do, Musica?  Music. 
Why, I'll play the maid Marian.  Sang. 
A match, a match: dress, dress, we'll have brave jingling. They dress themselves.  Melan. 
I can't dance.  Music. 
Nay, prithee be not sullen, good Melancholico.  Melan. 
If I do, I'll wear no bells.  Music. 
Why then lay one pair aside.  Melan. 
But I won't dance now.  Music. 
Why, Melancholico?  Melan. 
I won't dance, unless I have one of the wrought waistcoats.  Music. 
Why, now they have put them on.  Melan. 
I care not, I won't dance else.  Music. 
Come prithee, Cheiromantes, slip off thine again and change with him; Melancholico must have his sullen humours. So, now we want nothing but the Tabor we talked of: but 'tis no matter, since he does not come, we'll sing, and so make music to ourselves. Who can tune the morris best?  Enter an hobby horse dancing the morris and a Tabourer. 
Oh, The hobby horse rushes on them, and throws them all down .here they are both, here they are both.  Cheiro. 
O my arm, my arm!  Sang. 
O my shin!  Choler. 
Ah, murrain on him; who the devil's this?  Phleg. 
I have hurt my breast.  Physiog. 
O the side of my face!  Melan. 
A rope on you, must you throw me quite down?  Music. 
Prithee dance the morris quietly with us: up, up, ho, and we'll dance. They dance three times, the hobby-horse over them all again, kisses Musica, and runs away with the Tabourer.  Sang. 
A murrain go with you— Musica, who played in the hobby-horse?  Music. 
No, I must not tell.  Sang. 
Come then, we'll go now to Barleibreak.  Phleg. 
ay but there's one odd: what shall he do? sit out every time?  Mus. 
Yes faith, and give a reason of the other three couples meeting.  Mel. 
Agreed: run.  They run and meet thus: 

Sanguis.  
Musica.  
Physiognomus.  
Cheiromantes.  
Melancholico.  
Phlegmatico.   Choler. 
A murrain on't, must I be the first man must sit out? nothing angers me but that.  Mus. 
Nay Choler, thou'lt fret and chafe now—  Sang. 
Come Choler, your reasons.  Choler. 
Why, thou and Musica are met together— because— Sanguine folks are most fit for Music and sports. Physiognomus and Chieromantes met, because they feared we would have suspected they would have picked our pockets, if they had joined with any of us—  Phys. 
We thank you Choler, we shall be even with you, an't come to our turn.  Choler. 
Melancholico, and Phlegmatico joined; because one's too dry; and the other's too moist: and so they'll serve for Medicines one for another: come run again: I'll be sure to catch somebody this time.  They run again and meet thus. 

Sanguis.  
Melancholico.  
Choler.  
Phlegmatico  
Musica.  
Cheiromantes.   Phys. 
I can tell you Choler, you had almost missed this same time too. Well, to my task, since 'tis my luck. Sanguis and Melancholico met, because one's cold and dry, and the other's hot, and sufficiently moist: Choler and Phlegmatico (have at you Choler) are like a flap-dragon, or a piece of bread sopped in Aquavitae, and then set afire—  Choler. 
Thank you Physiognomus.  Phys. 
And Musica met with Cheiromantes, because the hand in this sense, in respect of Music, may most justly be called the Instrument of instruments: and therefore most fitly to be coupled with it.  Choler. 
I'faith Cheiromantes you are beholding to him, he has graced you.  Phys. 
Come, run again.  They meet thus: 

Choler.  
Cheiromantes.  
Sanguis.  
Physiognomus.  
Musica.  
Phlegmatico.   Mel. 
What? is't my course?  Choler. 
Hay! Melancholico will give gallant reasons.  Sanguis. 
ay, he'll be exceeding witty, I warrant you.  Mus. 
Nay, I believe he'll give incomparable reasons.  Cheiro. 
Come on Melancholico.  Phleg. 
Let's hear the first.  Phys. 
He looks as if he would give profound ones.  Mel. 
What? do you mean to abuse me? I'll give none. I'll play no more.  Choler. 
That's a poor put-off i'faith; either play on, or else I'll call thee Blockhead as long as I know thee.  Mel. 
Do, do.  Choler. 
Blockhead, blockhead.  Mel. 
Come, you saucy Ass, because you are so hot, I'll take you down: I'll propose a riddle.  Mus. 
Let it be a good one, and it shall be for all the reasons thou shouldst have given.  Choler. 
Yes faith, an't be a good one.  Mel. 
Well, take it as it is: Riddle me, riddle me, what's this? It is not, and yet we see it: 'tis like a picture, and yet 'tis no picture: and it was drawn by a blind Painter.  Choler. 
This is impossible.  Sang. 
Nay Choler, you are too rash in your judgement— It is not, and yet we see it,— why, it may be you mean honesty, which peradventure you think is nowhere truly: but seems to be somewhere.  Mel. 
No, no, your conjecture halts.  Mus. 
It is not, and yet we see it?— If it had been, It is not, and yet we hear it, I could have given a reasonable conjecture.  Mel. 
As how? I prithee.  Mus. 
Why, I could have thought it to be Fame.  Mel. 
Indeed that had been reasonable: but you see it is not so proposed; neither could that hold with the parts that follow: well, to the next.  Sanguis. 
'Tis like a picture, and yet no picture? I'll give a very strong conjecture at that.  Mel. 
Let's hear it.  Sanguis. 
Why, it may be a Gentlewoman's face painted.  Mel. 
That conjecture is plausible, but 'twill not hold with the rest. To the last.  Sanguis. 
And it was drawn by a blind Painter.  Choler. 
That's altogether impossible.  Sanguis. 
You're too quick again, Choler. I can conceive how that may be.  Mel. 
How?  Sanguis. 
How? Why the Painter might lose his sight after he had drawn the picture, And so be a blind Painter.  Mus. 
Pretty, pretty, pretty.  Mel. 
But you are out, Sir.  Choler. 
Well, what was't now?  Mel. 
Nay, since you are so hot, you shan't know.  Sang. 
Nay, prithee what is't.  Mel. 
No, I won't tell it.  Mus. 
Nay what sullenness is this? Prithee tell. What is it?  Mel. 
I won't.  Phleg. 
A pox on't, I long to know. Prithee what is't Melancholico?  Choler. 
Come, what is't, Melancholico?  Mel. 
Nay, I'm a blockhead, I'm a blockhead, Choler, pray what is't? your delicate wit, I doubt not can easily tell.  Choler. 
A rope of all sullen noddies: he sees every one greedy to know, and therefore out of a doggedness conceals it.  Phleg. 
A rope, if he had never proposed it, it would never have angered me. Will you tell, Melancholico?  Mel. 
Alas, I'm a blockhead.  Chairo. 
Well, we'll wait his leisure.  Sanguis. 
I shall not sleep for thinking on't, if he does not tell me.  Phleg. 
I shall dream on't all night.  Mus. 
Good Melancholico, what is't?  Mel. 
Alas, I'm a blockhead.  Mus. 
Pish, why then Good blockhead, what is't?  Mel. 
Nay, you won't tell who danced in the Hobby-horse, you.  Mus. 
I' saith I will, if you'll tell this first, and swear you will not be angry with him, for throwing you down.  Mel. 
Nay, I'll know that first, and without all conditions.  Omnes. 
Do Musica, prithee do.  Mus. 
I'll tell you then in your ear, Melancholico.  Mel. 
Nay, he have it told openly, it concerns every one as much as me.  Mus. 
Why then if you would know, 'twas Phantastes; that had been at the same merry-making with me.  Mel. 
Phantastes! Indeed I have heard he's the only fellow in the Country to dance in an Hobby-horse: but he might have used his friends the humours better.  Mus. 
But you'll forgive him I hope now.  Omnes. 
For thy sake we will.  Mus. 
Well. Now Melancholico, what is't?  Mel. 
ay but Musica, you shall kiss me first. They kiss.  Mus. 
Come on then.  Mel. 
Kiss me again.  Mus. 
Why and again.  Mel. 
And again.  Mus. 
And again.  Mel. 
Now you shall all recant the word Blockhead, and say Melancholico is no blockhead: say so.  Omnes. 
Melancholico is No blockhead.  Mel. 
So Musica, kiss me once more, and then I'll tell.  Mus. 
Why thus I do, sweet Melancholico, that art no blockhead.  Mel. 
Well said, you little rogue. Why now I'll tell you, It is the Rainbow described by Homer; but you shall have it by parts: It is not, and yet we see it,— the colours in the Rain bow are not true and very colours, but only seem so to be; as I have heard Physica often say. It is like a picture, and yet is no picture,— that's manifest. And it was drawn by a blind Painter,— Homer was blind and a Poet, now a Poet as I have heard my Master say, may fitly be called a Painter; as painting may be called poesy in picture.  Choler. 
The illation is superfluous to apprehensive ears.  Musica. 
I'll remember this i'faith; where are my Bells, and Waistcooats, and Napkins? Well, now fare you well all. Exit Musica.  Omnes. 
Farewell, Musica.  Choler. 
Farewell, Gallants; my business lies this way too.  Exit Choler. Mel. 
Who goes this way?  Phleg. 
That do I.  Mel. 
Come on then; farewell, Lads.  Exeunt Melancholico, and Phlegmatico. Cheiro. 
Fare you well: I'm glad they are all gone, I have got some what.  Phys. 
What is't?  Cheiro. 
The pair of Bells which Melancholico would not wear.  Phys. 
I protest, I never perceived, when thou didst nim them.  Sang. 
Nor I.  Cheiro. 
Nay, I've the slight of the hand exactly; if I steal not some what where ere we come, let me be hanged: come, Boys, we'll have some liquour for these Jinglers: i'faith, Sanguis, we must take a Cup or two before you go to Magus.  Sang. 
I care not now for drinking.  Cheiro. 
Fie, fie, forsake thy liquour? 'twill breed good blood: Sanguis, 'twill breed good blood: Come along Boys.  Exeunt Omnes.  

ACTVS IV. SCENA VI.  


POLITES in a Scarlet Gown, Hood, and Cap with Ermins, a white Staff, etc.    
POLITES, LOGICUS, GRAMMATICUS, POETA, CAUSIDIOUS.  
I Do find myself at this present affected with that which should not touch a good Magistrate, an unwillingness to do justice: yet I profess it proceeds not from a desire to be injurious, but merciful; not for an ill-will to either, but a love to both. Whilst heretofore, I understood of this dissension, as I was somewhat cast down with sorrow, so I was raised with an hope of happy reconcilement, but now that hope also which before was the cause of an uncertain joy, is become the ground of my most certain grief; and the rather to see the state of our most blessed Commonwealth (which the gods have decreed shall be eternal, if ourselves hinder not) to be thus torn with our civil Discords. You are not ignorant of the miraculous means which the gods have used in raising us to this greatness: not by riches, but poverty; not by plenty, but want; that what to others has been the occasion of disgrace, has to us been the means of our present honour: It is the observation of the Grecians, Tacitus, and truest Oracle of Greece, Thucydides, that the Athenians Commonwealth was not raised to that glory (like the rest of Greece) by the fruitfulness but barrenness of the soil: for which cause whilst the Inhabitants lived secure from the invasion of Borderers, others growing rich, were at last consumed by their own dissensions: so that for the avoiding of public disturbance, when any were afflicted, they retired to the Athenians, with what they had left, before all were lost; who as they did partake of the Athenians security, so mutually offered to the Athenians the participation of their wealth: the like I may say of our present estate; we have not sought unto others; yet who have not sought to us? we had nothing, yet what want we, unless it be a moderation of our felicity? All other Mechanic faculties, of whatsoever Corporations, have they not forsook themselves to retire to us? and yielded up their estates, which they thought unhappy, to receive them as an happiness from our bounty? I speak not these things unto you as an instructor, but a remembrancer: Not to impose on you a new belief beyond your experience, but to imprint in your minds a just consideration of your dangerous contention. I have yet but begun to speak; but sorrow is a bad Orator, and I must continue my speech with a silent Rhetoric. He speaks this aside to Causid.  Poeta. 
Press the abuse thoroughly, as I instructed you.  Caus. 
I warrant you Sir.  Log. 
How now, Sir! What do you whispering with my Lawyer?  Poeta. 
With yours? I'd laugh at that, i'faith.  Log. 
With mine? ay, mine, I'm sure I gave him a fee.  Poeta. 
But I'm sure I gave him a couple.  Polites. 
How now! what new contention's this?  Log. 
an't please you, he abuses me before your face; he bribes my Lawyer.  Poeta. 
Yours! he's mine.  Log. 
Thine? he's none of thine. He's mine.  Pol. 
He can be Advocate but for one: ask him whose he is.  Log. 
Causidicus, are not you my Lawyer?  Caus. 
Yes.  Poeta. 
How! thou Varlet! why? art thou not mine?  Caus. 
— Yes.  Polites. 
What new face of impudent villainy is this, which does appear unto us? O thou Monster of a double tongue and heart.  Caus. 
Pardon, honoured Polites.  Polites. 
Varlet, thou profaner of justice! pardon?  Caus. 
Honoured Polites—  Polites. 
Varlet, abuse not mine honest name with that mouth: with what face canst thou ask for mercy, unless thou hadst another face too? with what tongue wilt thou beg for mercy, unless thou hast a third! with what heart wilt thou manifest a truth of sorrow, unless thou hast a third also? do not speak, kneel, mutter; one Lawyer come to plead two causes? O new confidence! stand aside, thy absence peradventure might sooner cause us to forget thy crime: then thy presence, though with most fawning dissimulation, to pardon it: Logicus, you are the accuser; propose your own cause; then shall Poeta answer for himself; and lastly, Grammaticus your witness, shall allege what he knows. Begin, Logicus.  Log. 
an't please you, Grammaticus was soundly beaten by this fellow Poeta, and, I forsooth, by his man a clog-headed Rogue; but that rhyming Rascal set him on.  Polites. 
Fie, Logicus, fie, fie; how shamefully you wrong yourself, by these unseemly terms? beside, the Gentleman's worth is well known.  Log. 
He's a Rascal to Me I'm sure.  Poeta. 
Fie, Logicus, fie; you see I give you ne'er a foul word, and that the goodness of my Cause, moves e'en the judge in my defence.  Log. 
an't please you Polites, every one counts him but a dissolute Rascal, and so he has in all times been held but for my faculty, what age ever flourished in which that flourished not?  Poeta. 
Nay, Logicus, you have little reason to say so, I can tell you: for if we take a view of the most illustrious Age, that ever the world enjoyed, which I think to be the time of the twelve Roman Caesars; wherein Arms and Learning were at their height, you may observe Poetry to have been most famous, embraced by Emperors, admired by all who laboured to have their names amongst the Learned. But for Logicians, alas, (I must speak the truth) as their names were unknown, so were their endeavours buried in obscurity: Indeed those times were thrifty, and active: but these, out of a wanton softness of a dainty sloth, do only spin out these Spiderwebs of curiosity; and it hath been often my meditation, to have an amputation of such Excrescencies, and to cause that our youth which is to be instructed for future use, should not consume the strength of their wits, in an injurious labour of fruitless vanities. I do not deny a just knowledge of your faculty, to be most necessary, and ourselves thereinto have an advantage of former times: but yet, alas! how many thousand famous Orators have there been without Logic? how many eternal Poets without Logic? whose divine eloquence could speak beyond all Logic; without all Logic. Enter MUSICA.  Mus. 
Reverend Polites, necessity has imposed a bad message upon me, though unfit: Astronomia is in a trance, and only the Heavens know whether or no she will again recover. (I knew it boded no good luck, that all my Lute-strings cracked last night of their own accord.)  Polites. 
All the gods forbid; ah dear Astronomia, grief upon grief still: Indeed Musica, thou wast an unfit Messenger for such sad news: for this contention, it must rest undecided till another occasion. Causidicus, I warn you to be in a readiness to appear, when you are sent for.  Exit Polites. Exit Musica. Caus. 
Pardon, good Polites, honoured Polites, good Polites, pardon. Exit Causidicus.  Log. 
Grammaticus what thinkest thou of this departure? is it not pretty?  Gram. 
By my faith, I could make a bad Construction of it: this may be but a trick; well, Poeta, I perceive you have some Invention.  Poeta. 
You abuse the integrity of our Honourable judge.  Log. 
Thou talk of integrity? go, go, thou art a cracked Pitcher, a broken pisspot, Polites talks against Logicians; whenas your Logicians are the only Scholars in the world: but the best is he does but talk against them.  Poeta. 
The only Scholars? the only Dunces.  Log. 
Sirrah, Dunces?  Poeta. 
Yes Loggerhead, Dunces: dost thou murmur? thou know'st not the Letters of thy Alphabet yet.  Log. 
How you Slave?  Poeta. 
Nay, never make a Vizard of thy scurvy face: I say thou know'st not the Letters of thy Alphabet: have not I heard thee say? Omne A. est B. Omne B. est C. Ergo Omne A. est C. and indeed I think there is a like reason, for A. may as well be C. as B. but fare you well Blockhead, fare you well. Exit.  Gram. 
And my Choler were here, he'd have him by the ears: come let's begun, here's nothing to be done: are these your Lawcases? a murrain on them, they are Dative cases to the Lawyers; but Ablative to the Clients.  Log. 
Come, come; I'm sure our case is in a fine Predicament: I think we have been put off long enough: i'faith all Lawcases shall hereafter be no more put in the Predicament of Action; but of Quando, of Quando; a plague of these Lawyers. Exeunt Log, & Grammat.    

ACTVS IIII.  

SCENA. VII.  MEDICUS solus, with an Urinal in his hand. 
WHy so; this is good: I have brought myself into a fine case: I must be a Poisoner, I: and to get my Living must lose my Life; blessing on my wise pate in the meanwhile. And to observe the witty revenge of the gods; that this intended Murder should come forth by mine own man Sanguis, from whom in Policy I concealed it: well, I perceive Blood is Open-mouthed and will tell all: but since it is not much known, and that I am not as yet accused to Polites, and now requested to help Astronomia, I'll take the happy occasion, and use my best art to cure her, and so if she scape, I may peradventure scape too; obtaining pardon for my recompense— let me see— by this water I do find the state of her body much altered, and her disease changed. There was an Astronomia that I once had in cure before now, and she was of the very same constitution, had the like disease, and the like turning in her head; now she died, and afterward we made a dissection in her head, to see what was the disaffection of her brain, which when we had done, we found all her brains turned to a matter much like clear jelly, or a Crystalline Orb: but I hope all such suspicions of this Astronomia are Fables— but stay— what's the relish of her urine? (he tastes it)— Pah, nought, nought: oh, who would be a Physician to taste these things? 'tis worse than to be a Saltpetre-man, and dig in a privy-house— but what smell has it? (he smells to it.) Foh, worse, worse, I cannot endure it, [he throws away the Urinal, and breaks it.] Astronomia's of a fair complexion herself, I wonder that her Urine should be so dark; 'tis of the colour of a Cloud. Well, I see she's very corrupt within, and I fear 'tis this Astrologia has powdered her; to give her a Potion at the mouth will not do much good; for 'twill be so long in descending, that the power of it will be much debilitated; I conclude then, it must be a Clyster, a Clyster; and so I'll in, to administer it: well, if I scape this Scouring cleanly; I'll never come in the like Pickle again, whilst I breath. Exit Medicus.    

ACTVS V.  

SCENA I.  


POLITES ,in a black gown, a black satin suit, a black beaver with a gold hatband, with a white staff, etc.    
POLITES, PHYSICA.  
YOu see, I have in part described the worthy parts of Geographus; and doubtless 'tis pity any cowardly young man should spend the strength of his best age in the murmurings of discontent. I can say no more, and you may—  Physic. 
Nay, I must needs approve of such commendable parts in him; but I have ever thought your travailers like unto Meteors which wander in the Air, and their love in particular like the shooting star, which only lasts till the fire is spent, and then falls down again with a swift precipitation: but I'm sure my Astronomia is of a more Fixed desire.  Polites. 
ay, but I'm persuaded he will be so regular, he will never go beyond the prescribed bounds of her will; come, you shall see, she will so encompass him, that he shall never get out.  Physic. 
He must, and shall then turn away his man Phantastes, that has incited him to entertain all his uncertain courses.  Polites. 
Will you be willing, on that condition, to yield your consent, that he shall have her?  Physic. 
I will.  Polites. 
Well then, I'll hasten a speedy celebration of this marriage: for I'll make him discard his Phantastes immediately; 'twas somewhat tolerable to entertain such a giddy Counsellor, whilst be was unmarried; but hereafter assure yourself he will be more stayed: and consider, Physica, that though he have been a travailer, yet he is now come home, and I hope not only to his Country, but to himself.  Physic. 
Well, your wishes and my counsels will work upon him, I trust; and I'll be sure, he shall never stir abroad, but Astronomia still shall have an eye to him.  Polites. 
Come then, let's in.   

ACTVS V. SCENA II.  
GRAMMATICUS, RHETORICA.  
FAirest Rhetorica, will the pride of your beauty still tyrannize? will it be still in the Imperative Mood? and shall my languishing desire be always in the unhappy Optative? let me go a little further, and come at last to the Potential.  Rhet. 
Yes, faith, you shall go further if you will, to the Infinitive: I am not in the Mood to be wooed now.  Gram. 
Ah, dearest Rhetorica, I cannot choose.  
Omnia vincit Amor, & nos cedamus Amori.  Rhet. 
I wonder at this, Grammaticus: that you having brought Love under a Rule, cannot notwithstanding rule it.  Gram. 
Hei mihi quod nully Amor est medicabilis herbis.  Rhet. 
But why should you torture yourself so with love?  Gram. 
Torture? O but 'tis a sweet, a sweet torture.  
— In Genitivo  
Id tibi dulcedo faciens dulcedinis, illud  
Demonstratque propago, propaginis: adijce virgo  
- we learn this in the very School.  Rhet. 
I think they are happy that never marry.  Gram. 
Oh, 'tis the right of nature: Funus justa petit, petit & sponsalia virgo.  Rhet. 
If then women desire so much to marry, why is Amor of the Masculine gender?  Gram. 
Because women are not so much love itself, as the cause of love in men.  Rhet. 
ay, but methinks, they should be afraid of Actaeon's fortune.  Gram. 
Indeed— Est cornus cura sinistra: but that's not always: 'tis but a Redundans, and therefore we put it among the Heteroclites.  Rhet. 
Well, Sir, my necessary departure must cut off the End of your discourse by an Apocope. Exit. Rhet.  Gram. 
ay, but 'tis a Prothesis to my discontent: O, see the scorn of love: she flies away.— Nec vult Panthera demari— well if I were rich enough, I durst lay the loss of her, I'd gain her: but 'tis money must go first; and therefore, now I think on't, it runs so in the rule.— Divitiaeque Nuptiae item— for riches must be the Usher,— Oh! but who would fall in love? before, I had a little Understanding; then I fell mad in Love, and now I do nothing but waste myself with a fruitless Sloth; why this 'tis— Intelligo, diligo, Negligo tantum— and yet I can scarce hope, & yet I must love. Naturam expellas furcâ licet, vsque recurret. Exit Gram.   

ACTVS V. SCENA III.  
MAGUS, ASTROLOGIA, PHYSIOGNOMUS, CHEIROMANTES.  
MY great gods protect me; but the last night was a-dreadfull night unto me.  Astrol. 
Why? had you any terrible dreams?  Magus. 
Worse, worse: my spirit Glassialabolas appeared unto me, and being skilful in the knowledge of future things, most lovingly has foretold me of great danger coming towards me; and he said it would happen when I did least suspect it, and amongst my acquaintance too; he appeared in his wonted shape like a Dog with the wings of a Griffin, but he looked most horridly, most horridly: and methought when he went out, there followed him four, just like to us four for all the world.  Astrol. Physiog. Cheiro. simul. 
Like to us four? alas!  Magus. 
just like to us four; and they cried exceedingly as they went: and I ventured to call him back again, but he would not come.  Astrol. 
I wonder I waked not; why did you not tell me of it before?  Magus. 
I protest I was in a doubt whether I should tell thee at all or no, it was so terrible.  Astrol. 
Why you're of my mind just: for I had an untoward dream, and was verily resolved not to tell you, but now I will: methought I and Astronomia fell out exceedingly about Geographus, because she kissed him, and methought she forbade me her house, and that her mother Physica did forejoice at it, which angered me most of all. Indeed I do not like the effect which I see the heavens likely to produce ere long, against somebody, but I hope 'twill not be to us.  Cheiro. 
In good faith, I had the prettiest dream that e'er you heard, methought as I was about to pick a fellows pocket, he struck me quite thorough the hand with a knife, and leaving the knife in my hand, thrust his hand into my pocket and picked it, and so punished me, as I have punished others many a time.  Physiog. 
Troth, and as I was going to bed last night, there stood in the chamber window a looking-glass; and as I came by, chance to lay my hand down there, the candle not standing far off, I saw my face in the glass, but in good faith methought I looked so wanly and so scurvily— and indeed I have heard them often say, 'tis ill luck to see one's face in a glass by candlelight.  Magus. 
Well, let then all our ill luck come together, if it will: indeed Astronomia's perfectly recovered, and I saw but now Geographus and her with Polites; which can bode no good: and afterwards I met with geometre's, and he passed by, without saluting me, but looked sullenly towards me: I know not what's the matter; but I fear me, he has scarce learned the Rule of friendship, to keep secrets. Well; come what will, we will not accuse ourselves by a foolish retiredness or fear; and if we should chance to be convented, we must be very obedient, and that will argue an innocency: and let them prove what they can, it may be they can prove nothing, and then we are free; if they prove the worst they can, and condemn us to death, we'll patiently hear our sentence of condemnation; but when they are about to carry us to prison, than you shall see my art: [he takes four rings out of his pocket. ]See, here are four rings, there's each of you one, and here's a fourth for myself: put them in your pockets, and when your condemnation is pronounced, and they think to carry us away, privily slip those rings on your little-fingers, and then cry aloud Glassialabolas three times, and we shall all four immediately become invisible.  Astrol. Physiog. Cheiro. simul. 
Hay brave! we stand above fate, and the heavens.  Magus. 
Come, now let's go securely.  Physiog. Cheiro. 
Long may great Magus live: long may great Magus live. Exeunt omnes.   

ACTVS V. SCENA IIII.  
POETA, PHANTASTES.  
I Protest, Phantastes, I'm sorry for thee; but thou know'st I have a man already, and one that loves me very well, Melancholico.  Phant. 
Yet, dearest Poeta, if you will vouchsafe another also entertainment, Phantastes shall be ready at your command.  Poet. 
How far hast thou travailed with Geographus?  Phant. 
Too far, Sir, to be cast off now: why, about the world, Sir; or to speak the truth, I have gone further than he.  Poet. 
sayst thou so?  Phant. 
Yes, I'll assure you, Sir: and I can acquaint you, Sir, if you please, with one particular attempt of mine, whereby I outventured him.  Poet. 
What's that?  Phant. 
Why, Sir, in our North-voyage being come to the utmost part in all Finmarchia, to the North-cape (the Longitude thereof is well-nigh fifty degrees, and the Latitude almost 73.) being then past the Arctic-circle about six degrees, and so by consequent being in a parallel Sphere, Geographus durst not venture any further; and there was, Sir, at that time in our company, a great Magician (I have forgot of what University) which Magician and I, leaving Geographus upon the Land, undertook (being so near) to discover the parts directly under the Pole.  Poet. 
But what was your device against the cold?  Phant. 
Why, Sir, besides excellent furs we had, we had also hot waters to preserve our heat within: but at last we were come so far, that we were feign to come out of our ship upon the ice, and then the Magician being also an exquisite Geometrician, got the ship upon the Ice, and then made wheels for it, and an artificial Engine to make it go of itself; you may see proportionally the like device in your Puppets that will go and turn of themselves. The ice then being smooth, the ship went forward of its own accord, till we found ourselves to have passed the Arctic circle twenty three degrees full. Then were we half a degree just from the Pole: there we met with a most furious sea, that scorns to yield to the usurping cold; when the Geometrician takes me off the wheels, and forth we launched, and so sailed till we came to have the Pole itself for our Zenith; and then we beheld a dreadful rock.  Poeta. 
How did ye then?  Phant. 
Why thus, Sir: when the Magician saw this, he immediately draws a book out of his Pocket, and falls to reading; when straightway all the sea about us was as calm as a fresh water river amongst us: and the ship went no faster than we would have it ourselves; and so without any danger we came to the rock; unto which making a shift to fasten our ship, we ascended: it seemed as black as any Pitch: upon the top of which (for we went to the top) there ascended an huge Pillar: which on the lower parts seemed as black as the rock; but still in the Ascent it grew whiter, and whiter; and indeed the whole pillar seemed to us very Ice, but that it was at the lower part blacker, and it was as big as ordinarily any tower among us; and at the bottom of it there was a passage to go in. We went in, and being entered, there were two pair of stairs, the one descending, the other ascending: for we found the pillar to be hollow, and our sight could not discover withoutside how high it was: we went downward some dozen or twenty stairs, where we heard a most hideous noise, that our hearts failing us we came up again.  Poeta. 
And what did you come away then?  Phant. 
No, Sir, we then went upwards, and in our ascent we still found open places to give us light and Air; as big commonly as a door; and we ascended so far, that at last the Sun shined upon us, as it does here, & then it grieved us to think we were to go back such an uncouth way again; well, we went still higher, & at last looking out at these doors, and seeing that part of the world that lay towards us, (being a fine Sunshine day,) we saw a very terrible battle, fought between the Turk and the Persian, wherein the Turk was put to the worst: but now the Magician growing weary, and desirous to know how far this Pillar ascended, he held by the side of the door, and looked upwards, but with the fear suddenly fell down: and there was the unhappy end of my companion. This pillar doubtless we conjectured to be the Pole, and the way to heaven; and the stairs that descended, the way to hell, and to the other Pole. With this accident I being half affrighted, with a trembling at the wonders of the gods, humbly descended.  Poeta. 
Alas! what did you do in that case being alone?  Phant. 
Why, Sir, when I was come down, the sea was still calm; and so I unfastening the ship, sailed the Ice, and according to the instruction I had learned of the Magician, I got it over the Ice; & without any danger returned to Geographus.  Poeta. 
methinks you should have had but Cold Comfort to be in that place alone.  Phant. 
I protest unto you, Sir, simple as I stand here now, I did it then. Now, Sir, wheresoever Geographus comes, he equally brags of this attempt as his also; but I vow by my former dangers and present griefs, the discovery was made only by Magus, and Phantastes; and the relation by Phantastes only.  Poeta. 
And is this the reward which Geographus having now gotten enough gives unto you? especially you having saved his credit hitherto in not discovering also his lying arrogancy? 'tis inhuman ingratitude.  Enter ETHICUS. 
Ethicus (to Phantastes) How now weathercock? what wind blew you this way? (to Poeta) Why, wise man, have you never a fitter Companion than this travailing gallant? [to Phantastes] Pray be so mannerly as to travail a little aside; I must speak with Poeta.  Phant. 
Alas sir, I'll not disturb you; when a man's once down, I perceive he shall be trod upon. Exit Phantastes.  Ethicus. 
How now? what would this fellow have with you?  Poeta. 
A service.  Ethicus. 
Yes faith, you should entertain every man's cast-off. Come, are you ready with your Mask you promised Polites at the Celebration of Astronomia's marriage? all the chief of the Commonwealth will be there.  Poeta. 
Yes I will attend upon their joy and mine own grief: I have made a mask aforehand; for I foresaw long ago Geographus should have her; I have kept my promise; but 'tis but short, as my discontent would give me leave: and the boys that are to act it, have learned it at once reading over, and Melancholico has dressed them by this time I think.  Ethicus. 
Come, let's in: I hope ere long to come to your wedding and Historia's.  Poeta. 
Mine? alas! I'll resolve now to live and die a maid: Historia shall register me up among her examples of virginity.  Ethicus. 
ay, and thy verse make her immortal: come, let's go, but thou mak'st me laugh, a Poet die a maid? I never knew any of the brood yet, so chaste. Exeunt.   

ACTVS V. SCENA V.  
MEDICUS CAUSIDICUS.  Med. 
NAy Causidicus, your state cannot be worse than mine; for I'm in a terrible quandary, more shaking than an Ague: 't had been better I had taken the poison myself, for so I might have took a Vomit, and peradventure got it up again; but I shall never be able to Purge myself of this infamy.  Causid. 
i'faith Medicus, and I think no man's case can be likely worse than mine own: for it had been better for me if I had pleaded ne'er a cause, rather than two. Well, I fear by this double fee, I shall purchase the feesimple of a knave, as long as I live.  Medicus. 
Indeed I do not well see how you will be ever able to plead again now your tongue's cloven; and yet I remember there was a famous Lawyer, that riding to plead two or three causes (just as you would have done now) unhappily fell off his horse, and falling on his chin, his tongue by chance doubling in his mouth, he bit it quite thorough, and yet by good luck I cured him.  Causid. 
Nay, for my tongue, that will do well enough: but 'tis my ears that I fear: I would I had but a Lease of mine own life for them.  Medic. 
i'faith, witty great crimes are like a consumption, they are easily to be cured when they begin, but hardly discovered; and easily discovered when they are ripe, but hardly cured: and therefore I fear we shall be both cut off as desperate Members.  Causid. 
Well, yet let's keep possession of our states as long as we can; and that must be by this means. If we be called to our accounts, not presently to confess, for the veriest thief will at the first plead, Not Guilty: and yet we will not too-stiffly stand in our innocency, that so there may be a way left for our pardon.  Medic. 
Well, let's hasten in to the celebration of the marriage; for we're expected before this time; my heart's almost at my mouth with fear, and Dances, methinks, as if it were at the wedding already.  Causid. 
This Polites is a subtle fellow, and he'll take us when we little think on't; but we'll go voluntarily, and so he shall not need to send out a Capias ad respondendum, for us.  Medic. 
Well, I think when all comes to all, our best means to wash away these faults, will be our Distillation of tears. Exeunt Medicus & Causidious.   

ACTVS V. SCENA VI.  


[The Music playing, these enter.]  
POLITES ,in a scarlet gown, hood, and cap with Ermines.  
POLITES 

GEOGRAPH.  
ASTRONOM.    
PHYSICA 

ETHICUS  
OECONOM.    
POETA,  
geometre's,  
GRAMMATICUS,  
LOGICUS,  
MAGUS,  
MEDICUS,  
HISTORIA,  
ARITHMETICA,  
RHETORICA,  
ASTROLOGIA,  
MUSICA,  
MELANCHOLICO,  
SANGVIS,  
CHOLER,  
PHLEGMATICO.    
ALl happiness attend the Nuptials.  Omnes. 
All happiness attend the Nuptials.  Polites. 
Physica, you now behold the blessed union of your dearest child.  Physic. 
And with joy, thanks to the gods and most honoured Polites. Enter PHANT.  Choler. 
How now, sirrah? what do you here? you serve nobody here, get you our again.  Phant. 
I won't, Sir: they say here's a mask to be seen.  Choler. 
won't you, Sir? I'll try that.  Polites. 
What's the matter there?  Choler. 
Why, an't please you, Sir, Phantastes is shifted in here to see a mask, which he says, he heard should be here, but he is deceived, and I'd have him out again.  Polites. 
Come, let him alone, let him alone, this once; he'll sooner shift to see such a toy then a better thing: but wisemen's marriages nowadays can be thriftily celebrated without Fiddlers.  Phant. 
Sirrah, now I will stand here in spite of your teeth.  Choler. 
You may thank Polites, or else i'faith I'd ha' trounced you.  Polites. 
Silence: Since the gods have afforded us the happiness of so frequent an Assembly, I think it the next happiness to use a prevenient discretion, upon this offered occasion, for the reformation of some dangerous abuses, which most stealingly have crept into the commonwealth: and therefore are the more dangerous, by how much they are the more secret. Magus and Astrologia, depart the Bench.  Magus. 
we?  Astrol. 
we?  Polites. 
Obey, or justice shall be violent to enforce you. Choler, are the two rogues, Physiognomus, and Cheiromantes apprehended, as I gave command?  Choler. 
Yes, Sir, and at hand.  Polites. 
Let them be brought in then; and with them Causidicus. Exit Choler. Medicus, leave the bench.  Medic. 
I? who's my accuser?  Polites. 
Thine own actions, and thy man Sanguis shall cry loud against thee.  Enter CHOLER with CAUSIDICUS and PHYSIOGNOMUS, but drawing CHEIROMANTES. Choler. 
O the gods! an't please you, Polites, this little rogue Cheiromantes being unwilling to come, as I was drawing him, picked my pocket. 'Sbones, these Varlets are worse than witches, for they say when they are in hold, they must leave their devil, but a man had as lief have the devil in hold as these, for they'll have his money in hold, or it shall scape 'em hardly.  Polites. 
Physiognomus, and Cheiromantes, do you know this Gentleman? He points to Poeta.  Physiog. 
Yes, Sir.  Cheiro. 
Yes, Sir.  Polites. 
And did you never know a purse of his?  Cheiro. 
I protest unto your Honour, there was nothing but a few idle papers in't, but not a penny of money.  Poet. 
Oh the impudence of villainy! by the reputation of a Gentleman, I put five pounds of gold into it the morning before I came forth; or else Poeta's a Feigner.  Cheiro. 
Sure then, Sir, you put it forth again before you came forth.  Polites. 
Well, your own confession proclaims your guilt; justice, therefore awards you this sentence. Thou Physioguemus, that thou mayst never look any man in the Face more, shalt be burnt in the forehead for a Rogue, that so every one may know thee by thy Physiognomy— Cheiromantes, since thou hast had a Hand in this matter too, thou shalt be burnt in the hand, and then both of you shall be banished the Commonwealth of the Sciences.— Choler, take them away.  Phys. 
Tush, I'll but paint my Face afterwards.  Cheiro. 
And I'll quickly bite it out of my hand again.  Physiog. 
we scorn to scape this punishment. Exeunt Choler, Physiog. Cheiro.  Cheiro. 
we scorn to scape this punishment. Exeunt Choler, Physiog. Cheiro.  Polites. 
geometre's, did not Magus offer by Magic and love-cups to procure you the love of Astronomia?  Geom. 
Yes, Sir, he did.  Polites. 
And geometre's, did not you see Astrologia at the Banquet at Ethicus his house, cast a powder into Astronomia's drink?  Geom. 
I did Sir.  Polites. 
Why then, justice must proceed upon you.  Magus. 
We yield ourselves to your honour's mercy.  Astrol. 
We yield ourselves to your honour's mercy.  [Geometres comes to Polites, and whispers him in the ear, then returns to his place] Polites. 
Melancholico and Sanguis lay hands upon them presently, search their pockets, and take out certain Rings if they have any.  Magus. 
Glassialabolas, Glassialabolas, Glassialabolas. Oh violence! Oh violence!  Astrol. 
Glassialabolas, Glassialabolas, Glassialabolas. Oh violence! Melanch. and Sanguis search their pockets by force, and take out Kings .Oh violence!  Mel. 
Here's one Sir.  Sang. 
And here's another.  Geom. 
ay, these are they. Magus himself acquainted me with this device: for, these Rings put on their little-fingers, and those words repeated thrice, would have made them invisible immediately.  Omnes. 
O strange!  Geom. 
Now honoured Polites, you may proceed.  Polites. 
Magus, because thy profoundest villainy was wrought by a Circle; in stead of an endless punishment like thy Circle, here thou shalt be broken upon a wheel, and afterwards the gods no doubt will adjudge thee for ever to supply Ixion's room, by turning his wheel. Thou Astrologia, shalt not as yet be determined on, but cast into a close Prison, that thou mayst never more behold the Heavens, but be tortured continually with a perpetual anxiety, and expectation of thy fate.  Geog. 
Nay, honoured Polites, let me beg Magus his life.  Astron. 
I; and I, that Astrologia may enjoy the benefit of the Heavens, liberty.  Polites. 
I may not without a danger to the Commonwealth.  Geog. 
Then let Geographus obtain the request on this condition, that they undertake a voluntary travail, in stead of an enforced banishment.  Polites. 
Depart then the Commonwealth for ever.  Magus. 
we go. Heaven and Hell conspite Magus and Astrologia's ruin; and yet they will not ruin us.  Astrol. 
we go. Heaven and Hell conspite Magus and Astrologia's ruin; and yet they will not ruin us.  Exeunt Magus, and Astrologia. Polites. 
Medicus, did not you send Poison in stead of Physic to Poeta being sick?  Med. 
an't please you, I know not whether it were Poison or not: I sent Historia's own servant with a Recipe, to Gallipot mine Apothecary: and if it were bad, 'twas his villainy.  Polites. 
Well, as if he had any reason to have done so, without underhand notice from you? do not deprive yourself of an hope of pardon by an unjust pretence of innocency.  Med. 
Good Polites. [On his knees].  Polites. 
What canst thou say for thyself, that judgement should not proceed against thee?  Med. 
Honoured Polites, vouchsafe to hear me speak: with grief I acknowledge mine offence, but it was need first made me bad: I was at the first an Apothecary's man, and keeping a note of Recipes that came to my Master, and inquiring of the bearers the disease of the Patient, I afterward turned Physician, but I never administered any Physic but such as I found in my Papers: and then, for fashion, I fell to reading some Physic-books: and though I could not judge of them, and make use of them, yet I by them did learn to talk with my Patients in their sickness.  Polites. 
Oh, the confident ignorance of beggarly Empirics! Well, stand aside a little: Causidicus, can thy two tongues, make one honest defence for the justifying of thyself? what canst thou allege that judgement should not proceed against thee?  Caus. 
My Book, honoured Polites.  Polites. 
Thou canst not have it.  Caus. 
Honoured Polites—  Polites. 
Thou canst not have it.  Caus. 
Then vouchsafe, I beseech you, to hear me speak. I likewise must accuse Poverty of my first guilt; 'twas need also that first made me bad: I was at the first a Sumner, then got to be a Scrivener, than a lawyer's clerk; and these were the first steps of my fortune: and since I have been a Lawyer, (alas!) such have been my wants, that having no Clients to save my credit, I have pretended business, and gone up and down with a Pen and Inkhorn by my side, as earnestly as if I had a dozen Causes to plead: when (alas!) I had scarce bread to live on, that, I protest unto your honour, Fortune had quite outlawed my estate.  Polites. 
Well then, I award thee this merciful judgement: because, Causidicus, after seven years practice of the Law (for so long thou hast, I know not how justly, gone under that title) thou hast deserved to hold up thy hand at the Bar, when thou shouldst have been the defender of justice, thou shalt henceforth be called a Barrister; till by thy honest pleading you redeem yourself from that name; and hereafter when any of thy Profession plead Causes, they shall, in the admonishing remembrance of thy crime, plead at a Bar—; and that thy pleading of two Causes may be remembered, thou shalt wear, etc.— For you, Medicus, because you did happily recover Astronomia—  Astron. 
Indeed he gave me a very good Clyster, Heaven knows.  Polites. 
we pardon your offence: and thus upon your Good-behaviour we will suffer you both in the Commonwealth; but with this caution, that if ever you come by your Learning to any degrees in the University of our Commonwealth, (that you may for ever be distinguished from other men) because you have not been found Viri quadrati, Square and upright men; you shall be enjoined to wear Round Caps.  Med. 
A like mercy still attend Polites.  Causid. 
A like mercy still attend Polites.  Polites. 
But, Medicus, see you love your man Sanguis, though this your crime was detected by him: I say, Sanguis is an honest servant, and more faithful to the whole Body of the Commonwealth, than any one Corrupt Member. Depart, and henceforth abuse not our mercy.  Med. 
Long may Polites live most honoured; long may Polites live most honoured. Exeunt Med. & Causi.  Causid. 
Long may Polites live most honoured; long may Polites live most honoured. Exeunt Med. & Causi.  Enter CHOLER. Polites. 
Thus, as in a natural body, the first way to health, is by removing all more dangerous corruptions; and the second, by reducing the humours to a composed temperature: the first is already performed, and now it remains that we temper ourselves. Most honoured Citizens, I am not ignorant either of your contentions or loves: the first of which, as I would labour to dissolve: so to unite the last; if yourselves will be pleased but to refer the composing of your differences to my unpartial censure.  Omnes. 
We are pleased, Reverend Polites.  Polites. 
The gods add the happiness of success to my determinations. First, then Poeta, Logicus, and Grammaticus, you shall bury all former contentions in a perpetual {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman}, or oblivion, and then I thus proceed: For you geometre's, I am sorry that that Villain Magus did so far seduce you; but we all rejoice at your recovery: and since Geographus has obtained Astronomia, embrace you courteously the love of Arithmetica. I'm sure ever since you have both been of years of discretion, you have been acquainted: and beside, geometre's, there is not any man in the World, whom she makes more account of then yourself: and therefore I will not say, vt ameris ama, love her, that she may love you; but Quia amaris ama. Love because you are first loved; nay, 'tis a just gratitude, which also is a love, and so you shall double it. Briefly, if there be any point, geometre's, which you stand upon, know you remain still at odds; but if you embrace the love of Arithmetica, you'll be at a perfect unity.  Geom. 
Well, Polites, geometre's shall be Ruled by you this once; come, Wench, sure I must love thee, I even long to take thine Altitude.  Arith. 
And I trust we two shall be always Even.  Polites. 
Poeta, you have partly yielded to me in private a consent to the embracing of Historia's love, which if you shall publicly confess, and so confirm, you shall not only get a Wife, but a friend; and what honour Polites may do, to Poeta, love and opportunity shall unitedly perform.  Oeconoma. 
I; consent, wild-head, consent: she'll make thee more stayed.  Poeta. 
I yield: Historia, my love shall more inseparably follow thee, than the Hexameter the Pentameter; or the Adonic, the Sapphic.  Historia. 
Why, thus did Xenophon and his Love join together.  Polites. 
As for you, Grammaticus, I understand of your great affection to Rhetorica; who though she loves Logicus, yet because he loves not her mutually (which must be required between such pairs) and that Rhetorica had showed some kind of affection toward Grammaticus, with my best desires I will join you two; and the rather to induce a willingness in you, Rhetorica, I would have you not forget, how Grammaticus and you have been brought up from Children together, and Schoolfellows, and take this for a rule: Change not an old friend. Yield Rhetorica, yield, let Physica entreat thee.  Rheto. 
Why then, Grammaticus, at this double request, without any Circumlocutions or Figures, I plainly offer unto thee my love.  Gram. 
Why then, dearest Rhetorica, Qua nostros vidisti flentis ocallos. Thou dost not only gratify Polites, but also Physica, and Nature herself: for, Commune omnium animantium est coniunctionis appetitus procreandi causâ.  Polites. 
You Logicus, if you'll leave your contentions, having no desire, as I perceive, to marry—  Log. 
I care not for marrying; I see no good Foundation, for any such Relation.  Polites. 
we will assume you for your approved understanding—  Logic. 
ay, I should be sorry if I had not a good understanding—  Polites. 
As an assistant to ourself. For your man Phlegmatico, if he will win Polites his love, let him leave his Tobacco.  Ethicus. 
ay, and learn more, manners, for I am sure he wants them.  Polites. 
And Grammaticus, for your man, let him bridle his Choler. Now my counsel shall be, that you, Ethicus, and Oeconoma, would vouchsafe to give good advice to Poeta and Historia: and you, honoured Physica, to your happy children Geographus and Astronomia: for Grammaticus and Rhetorica their Tongues will always agree, and then I think they can hardly fall out: and for geometre's and Arithmetica, I likewise know they will be very Regular, and now all's composed; and yet, now I think on't, it is not, for yonder Melancholico stands sad, and alone, amongst all these matches: and yet it is better thought on; yonder's Musica too: now surely a fit match; but they shall be henceforth for their ingenuity, both exempt from servitude, and made joint fellows with ourselves.  Melan. 
Thanks to Polites: come, my little Minikin, thou and I will be play-fellows.  Music. 
i'faith I'll have Dancing at my wedding, whate'er comes on't.  Phant. 
I beseech you, Polites, suffer not a servant through want to be lost, and come to an ignominious death.  Poet. 
I (alas!) Polites, let Poeta obtain so much for Phantastes: that he may be servant to Melancholico and Musica.  Polites. 
I yield unto it.  Phant. 
And I trust I shall please my Master, and Mistress, beyond imagination.  Polites. 
And now most honoured Citizens, when our aged and retired Prince Metaphysicus (whose Deputy only I am, and from whom, as from our Sovereign, we hold all we have) when, I say, he shall hear of these happy combinations, what a content may we conceive he will conceit at the report? and for yourselves, you may more easily enjoy your felicity, than I express it; and my endeavours also shall not receive a small encouragement, when the Royal bounty of his Majesty shall take notice, that these things were done by me. Poeta, you shall give me leave, for conclusion of my speech, to usurp two Verses, which I have heard you often speak.  
All subjects labours fail, if Princes frown:  
The PRINCE's favour is the subjects Crown.    
THE END.   

Epilogue.  
Judicious Hearers, you When the Epilogue was about to be spoken, the pure Arts were ascended to Heaven, and appeared (as in the Prologue) till the Epilogue was ended, and then the Heaven closed .that apprehend  
What task it is to make the Arts descend  
To Popular cares; you whose pure judgement knows,  
How to distinguish between Art and Shows;  
Our Author now salutes. And does compare  
His Comedy unto his Theater;  
Where some play Arts, some Humours; and thus fits  
Himself, to all variety of wits.  
If any yet shall ask why he does bring  
A Hobby-horse, or such a nimble thing  
To raise an Ignorant laugh: It was his Art  
That said, This will express Phantastes part;  
And thus he Scorned and used it. He did fear  
Indeed, there was a People too, e'en Here.  
Therefore his Courteous Comedy did speak  
And act Some things to satisfy the Weak  
She Academics; and to make Them smile,  
Brought in Impostors, Gypsies, and such vile  
Pedlars of Arts: yet does he not from These  
Hope for a Tin-foiled glory: or so please  
Himself, by a Reflection. Here to stay,  
And in a Looking glass behold his play;  
Nor does he promise to himself, in high  
Conceit, a Saucy Immortality.  
Yet This he says: Let no man judge his Arts,  
But he that first can judge of All the Arts.  
But I forget one message; Fate of life!  
Poor Melancholico has lost his wife.  
For whilst, within, he on the Humours tended,  
Pure Music with the Arts to Heaven ascended.  
Which makes the poor man sad, that now he's grown  
Into a Dump, thus to be left Alone.  
Yet since he cannot call Her back again,  
He does entreat this grace he may obtain;  
That You would, to repair his Marriage bands,  
Create Another Musica with Your Hands.  
FINIS.