Sapho and Phao, Played before the queen's Majesty on shrove Tuesday, by her majesties Children, and the Boys of Paul's. ΒΆ Imprinted at London for Thomas Cadman. 1584. The Prologue at the Black friars. WHere the Bee can suck no honey, she leaveth her sting behind, and where the Bear cannot find Origanum to heal his grief, he blasteth all other leaves with his breath. we fear it is like to fare so with us, that seeing you cannot draw from our labours sweet content, you leave behind you a sour mislike, and with open reproach blame our good meanings: because you cannot reap your wonted mirths. Our intent was at this time to move inward delight, not outward lightness, and to breed, (if it might be) soft smiling, not loud laughing: knowing it to the wise to be as great pleasure to hear counsel mixed with wit, as to the foolish to have sport mingled with rudeness. They were banished the Theater at Athens, and from Rome hissed, that brought parasites on the stage with apish actions, or fools with uncivil habits, or Courtesans with immodest words. We have endeavoured to be as far from unseemly speeches, to make your ears glow, as we hope you will be from unkind reports to make our cheeks blush. The Griffyon never spreadeth her wings in the sun, when she hath any sick feathers: yet have we ventured to present out exercise before your judgements, when we know them full of weak matter, yielding rather ourselves to the courtesy, which we have ever sound, then to the preciseness, which we ought to fear. The Prologue at the Court. THe Arabians being stuffed with perfumes, burn hemlock, a rank poison: & in Hybla being cloyed with honey, they account it dainty to feed on wax. Your highness eyes, whom variety hath filled with fair shows, and whose ears pleasure hath possessed with rare sounds, will (we trust) at this time resemble the princely Eagle, who fearing to surfeit on spices, stoopeth to bite on wormwood. We present no conceits nor wars, but deceits and loves, wherein the truth may excuse the plainness. The necessity, the length: the poetry, the bitterness. There is no needless point so small, which hath not his compass: nor hair so slender, which hath not his shadow: nor sport so simple, which hath not his shadow: nor sport so simple, which hath not show. Whatsoever we present, whether it be tedious (which we fear) or toyish (which we doubt) sweet or sour, absolute or imperfect, or whatsoever, in all humbleness we all, & I on knee for all, entreat, that your Highness imagine yourself to be in a deep dream, that staying the conclusion, in your rising your Majesty vouchsafe but to say, And so you awaked. Actus primus. Schaena prima. Phao, Venus, Cupid. Phao. THou art a ferry-man, Phao, yet a free man, possessing for riches content, and for honours quiet. Thy thoughts are no higher than thy fortunes, nor thy desires greater than thy calling. Who climbeth, standeth on glass, and falleth on thorn. Thy heart's thirst is satisfied with thy hands thrift, and thy gentle labours in the day, turn to sweet slumbers in the night. As much doth it delight thee to rule thine oar in a calm stream, as it doth Sapho to sway the Sceptre in her brave court. Envy never casteth her eye low, ambition pointeth always upward, and revenge barketh only at stars. Thou farest dilicately, if thou have a fare to buy any thing. Thine angle is ready, when thine oar is idle, and as sweet is the fish which thou gettest in the river, as the fowl which other buy in the market. Thou needst not fear poison in thy glass, nor treason in thy guard. The wind is thy greatest enemy, whose might is withstood with policy. O sweet life seldom found under a golden covert, often under a thatched cottage. But here cometh one, I will withdraw myself aside, it may be a passenger. Venus. It is no less unseemly than unwholesome for Venus, who is most honoured in PRINCE's courts, to sojourn with Vulcan in a smiths forge, where bellows blow in steed of sighs, dark smokes rise for sweet perfumes, & for the panting of loving hearts, is only heard the beating of steeled hammers. Unhappy Venus, that carrying fire in thine own breast, thou shouldest dwell with fire in his forge. What doth Vulcan all day but endeavour to be as crabbed in manners, as he is crooked in body? driving nails, when he should give kisses, and hammering hard armours, when he should sing sweet amours. It came by lot, not love, that I was linked with him. He gives thee bolts, Cupid, instead of arrows, fearing belike (jealous fool that he is) that if he should give thee an arrow head he should make himself a broad head. But come, we will to Syracusa, where thy deity shall be shown, and my disdain. I will yoke the neck, that yet never bowed, at which, if jove repine, jove shall repent. Sapho shall know, be she never so fair, that there is a Venus, which can conquer, were she never so fortunate. Cupid. If jove espy Sapho, he will devise some new shape to entertain her. Venus. Strike thou Sapho, let jove devise what shape he can. Cupid. Mother, they say she hath her thoughts in a string, that she conquers affections, and sendeth love up and down upon errands, I am afraid she will yerk me, if I hit her. Venus. Peevish boy, can mortal creatures resist that, which the immortal God's cannot redress? Cupid. The Gods are amorous and therefore willing to be pierced. Venus. And she amiable, & therefore must be pierced. Cupid. I dare not. Venus. Draw thine arrow to the head, else I will make thee repent it at the heart. Come away and behold the ferry boy ready to conduct us. Pretty youth, de you keep the ferry that bendeth to Syracusa? Phao. The ferry, fair Lady, that bendeth to Syracusa. Venus. I fear if the water should begin to swell thou wilt want cunning to guide. Phao. These waters are commonly as the passengers be, and therefore carrying one so fair in show, there is no cause to fear a rough sea. Venus. To pass the time in thy boat, canst thou devise any pastime? Phao. If the wind be with me, I can angle, or tell tales: if against me, it will be pleasure for you to see me take pains. Venus. I like not fishing: yet was I borne of the sea. Phao. But he may bless fishing, that caught such an one in the sea. Venus. It was not with an angle, my boy, but with a net. Phao. So was it said, that vulcan caught Mars with Venus. Venus. Didst thou hear so? It was some tale. Phao. Yea madam and that in the boat I did mean to make my tale. Venus. It is not for a ferry man to talk of the God's loves: but to tell how thy father could dig, and thy mother spin. But come, let us away. Phao. I am ready to wait. Exeunt. Actus primus, Schaena sccunda. Trachinus, Pandion, Cryticus, Molus. Trachi. Pandion, since your coming from the university to the court, from Athens to Syracusa, how do you feel yourself altered either in humour or opinion? Pandi. Altered Trachinus, I say no more, and shame that any should know so much. Trachi. Here you see as great virtue, far greater bravery, the action of that which you contemplate, Sapho, fair by nature, by birth royal, learned by education by government politic, rich by peace: insomuch as it is hard to judge, whether she be more beautiful or wise, virtuous or fortunate. Besides, do you not look on fair Ladies in steed of good letters, and behold fair faces instead of fine phrases: In universities virtues and vices are but shadowed in colours white and black, in courts showed to life good and bad. There, times past are read of in old books, times present set down by new devices, times to come conjectured at by aim, by prophesy, or chance here, are times in perfection, nor by devise, as fables, but in execution, as truths. Believe me Pandion, in Athens you have but tombs, we in court the bodies, you the pictures of Venus & the wise Goddesses, we the persons & the virtues. What hath a scholar found out by study, that a courtier hath not found out by practice. Simple are you that think to see more at the candle snuff, than the sun beams, to sail further in a little brook, then in the main Ocean, to make a greater harvest by gleaning, then reaping. How say you Pandion, is not all this true? Pandi. Trachinus, what would you more, all true. Trach. Cease then to lead thy life in a study, pinned with a few boards, and endeavour to be a courtier to live in embossed ruffs. Pandi. A labour intolerable for Pandion. Trach. Why? Pandi. Because it is harder to shape a life to dissemble, than to go forward with the liberty of truth. Trach. Why do you think in court any use to dissemble? Pandi. Do you know in court any that mean to live? Trach. You have no reason for it, but an old report. Pandi. Report hath not always a blister on her tongue. Trach. ay, but this is the court of Sapho nature's miracle, which resembleth the tree Salurus, whose root is fastened upon knotted steel, & in whose top bud leaves of pure gold. Pandi. Yet hath Salurus blasts, and water boughs, worms and Caterpillars. Trach. The virtue of the tree is not the cause: but the Easterly wind, which is thought commonly to bring cankers and rottenness. Pandi. Nor the excellency of Sapho the occasion: but the iniquity of flatterers, who always whisper in princes' ears suspicion and sourness. Trach. Why, than you conclude with me, that Sapho for virtue hath no copartner. Pandi. Yea, & with the judgement of the world, that she is without comparison. Trach. We will thither straight. Pandi. I would I might return straight. Trach. Why, there you may live still. Pandi. But not still. Trach. how like you the Ladies, are they not passing fair? Pandi. Mine eye drinketh neither the colour of wine nor women. Trach. Yet am I sure that in judgement you are not so severe, but that you can be content to allow of beauty by day or by night. Pandi. When I behold beauty before the sun, his beams dim beauty: when by candle, beauty obscures torch light: so as no time I can judge, because at any time I cannot discern being in the sun a brightness to shadow beauty, and in beauty a glistering to extinguish light. Trachi. scholarlike said, you flatter that, which you seem to mislike, and to disgrace that, which you most wonder at. But let us away. Pandi. I follow. And you sir boy go to Syracusa about by land, where you shall meet my stuff, pay for the carriage, and convey it to my lodging. Trach. I think all your stuff are bundles of paper: but now must you learn to turn your library to a war drop, & see whether your rapier hang better by your side, than the pen did in your ear. Exeunt. Actus primus, Schaena tertia. Cryticus, Molus. Criti. Molus, what odds between thy commons in Athens, and the diet in court? A page's life, & a scholars? Molus This difference: there of a little I had somewhat, here of a great deal nothing, there did I wear pantofles on my legs, here do I bear them in my hands. Cryti. Thou mayst be skilled in thy Logic, but not in thy Lerypoope: belike no meat can down with you, unless you have a knife to cut it: but come among us, and you shall see us once in a morning have a mouse at a bay. Molus. A mouse? unproperly spoken. Criti. Aptly understood, a mouse of beef. Molus I think indeed a piece of beef as big as a mouse, serves a great company of such cats. But what else? Criti. For other sports, a square die in a page's pocket, is as decent as a square cap on a graduate's head. Molus You courtiers be mad fellows, we silly souls are only plodders at Ergo, whose wits are clasped up with our books, & so full of learning are we at home, that we scarce know good manners when we come abroad, Cunning in nothing but in making small things great by figures, pulling on with the sweat of our studies a great shoe upon a little foot, burning out one candle in seeking for another, raw worldlings in matters of substance passing wranglers about shadows. Criti. Then is it time lost to be a scholar. We pages are Politians: for look what we hear our masters talk of, ye determine of: where we suspect, we undermine: and where we mislike for some particular grudge, there we pick quarrels for a general grief. Nothing among us but in steed of good morrow, what news: we fall from cogging at dice to cog with states: & so forward are mean men in those matters, that they would be cocks to tread down others, before they be chickens to rise themselves. Youths are very forward to stroke their chins, though they have no beards, and to lie as loud as he that hath lived longest. Molus These be the golden days. Criti. Then be they very dark days: for I can see no gold. Molus You are gross witted, master courtier. Criti. And you master scholar slender witted. Molus I meant times which were prophesied golden for plenty of all things, sharpness of wit, excellency in knowledge, policy in government, for, Criti. Soft Scholaris, I deny your argument. Molus Why, it is no argument. Criti. Then I deny it because it is no argument. But let us go and follow our masters. Exeunt. Actus primus, Schaena quarta. Mileta, Lamia, Favilla, Ismena, Canope, Eugenua. Milet. Is it not strange that Phao on the sudden should be so fair? Lamia. It cannot be strange, sith Venus was disposed to make him fair. That cunning had been better bestowed on women, which would have deserved thanks of nature. Isme. haply she did in spite of women, or scorn of nature. Cano. Proud else, how squeamish he is be come already, using both disdainful looks, & imperious words: insomuch that he galleth with ingratitude. And then Ladies you know how it cutteth a woman to become a wooer. Euge. Tush, children and fools, the fairer they are, the sooner they yield, an apple will catch the one, a baby the other. Isme. Your lover I think be a fair fool: for you love nothing but fruit and puppets. Milet. I laugh at that you all call love, and judge it only a word called love. methinks liking, a courtesy, a smile, a beck, and such like, are the very Quintessence of love. Favilla ay, Mileta, but were you as wise, as you would be thought fair, or as fair, as you think yourself wise, you would be as ready to please men, as you are coy to prank yourself, & as careful to be accounted amorous, as you are willing to be thought discrete. Milet. No, no, men are good souls (poor souls:) who never inquire but with their eyes, loving to father the cradle, though they but mother the child. Give me their gifts, not their virtues, a grain of their gold weigheth down a pound of their wit, a dram of give me, is heavier than an ounce of hear me. Believe me Ladies, give is a pretty thing. Isme. I cannot but oftentimes smile to myself, to hear men call us weak vessels, when they prove themselves broken hearted, us frail, when their thoughts cannot hang together, studying with words to flatter, and with bribes to allure, when we commonly wish their tongues in their purses, they speak so simply, and their offers in their bellies, they do it so peevishly. Milet. It is good sport to see them want matter: for then fall they to good manners, having nothing in their mouths but sweet mistress, wearing our hands out with courtly kissings, when their wits fail in courtly discourses. Now ruffling their hairs, now setting their ruffs, then gazing with their eyes, then sighing with a privy wring by the hand, thinking us like to be wooed by signs and ceremonies. Euge. Yet we, when we swear with our mouths we are not in love, than we sigh from the heart and pine in love. Cano. we are mad wenches, if men mark our words: for when I say, I would none cared for love more than I, what mean I, but I would none loved but I, where we cry away, do we not presently say, go too: & when men strive for kisses, we exclaim, let us alone, as though we would fall to that ourselves. Favilla Nay, than Canope, it is time to go, and behold Phao. Isme. Where? Favilla In your head Ismena, nowhere else: but let us keep on our way. Isme. Wisely. Exeunt. Actus secundus, Schaena prima, Phao, Sybilla. Phao. Phao, thy mean fortune causeth thee to use an oar, and thy sudden beauty a glass: by the one is seen thy need, in the other thy pride. O Venus, in thinking thou hast blessed me, thou hast cursed me, adding to a poor estate, a proud heart: and to a disdained man, a disdaining mind. Thou dost not flatter thyself Phao, thou art fair: fair? I fear me fair, be a word too foul for a face so passing fair. But what availeth beauty, hadst thou all things thou wouldest wish, thou mightst die tomorrow, and didst thou want all things thou desirest, thou shalt live till thou diest. Tush Phao, there is grown more pride in thy mind, than favour in thy face. Blush foolish boy, to think on thine own thoughts: cease complaints, & crave counsel. And lo, behold Sibylla in the mouth of her cave, I will salute her. Lady, I fear me I am out of my way, and so benighted withal that I am compelled to ask your direction. Syb. Fair youth, if you will be advised by me, you shall for this time seek none other Inn, than my cave: for that it is no less perilous to travail by night, then uncomfortable. Phao Your courtesy offered hath prevented what my necessity was to entreat. Syb. Come near, take a stool, and sit down. Now, for that these winter nights are long, and that children delight in nothing more than to hear old wives tales, we will beguile the time with some story. And though you behold wrinkles and furrows in my tawny face: yet may you happily find wisdom and counsel in my white hairs. Phao Lady nothing can content me better than a tale, neither is there any thing more necessary for me then counsel. Syb. Were you borne so fair by nature? Phao No, made so fair by Venus. Syb. For what cause? Phao I fear me for some curse. Syb. Why, do you love, and cannot obtain? Phao No I may obtain but cannot love. Syb. Take heed of that my child. Phao I cannot choose good madam. Syb. Then harken to my tale, which I hope shall be as a straight thread to lead you out of those crooked conceits, and place you in the plain path of love. Phao I attend. Syb. When I was young, as you now are, I speak it without boasting, I was as beautiful: for Phoebus in his Godhead sought to get my maiden head: but I, fond wench, receiving a benefit from above, began to wax squeamish beneath, not unlike to Asolis, which being made green by heavenly drops, shrinketh into the ground when there fall showers: or the Syrian mud, which being made white chalk by the sun, never ceaseth rolling, till it lie in the shadow. He to sweet prayers added great promises, I either desirous to make trial of his power, or willing to prolong mine own life, caught up my handful of sand, consenting to his suit, if I might live as many years as there were grains. Phoebus, (for what cannot God's do, and what for love will they not do,) granted my petition. And then I sigh and blush to tell the rest, I recalled my promise. Phao. Was not the God angry to see you unkind? Syb. Angry my boy, which was the cause that I was unfortunate. Phao What revenge for such rigor used the Gods? Syb. None, but suffering us to live, and know we are no Gods. Sapho. I pray tell on. Syb. I will Having received long life by Phoebus, & rare beauty by nature, I thought all the year would have been May, that fresh colours would always continue, that time & fortune could not wear out, what Gods and nature had wrought up: not once imagining that white and read should return to black and yellow, the juniper, the longer it grew, the crookeder it waxed, or that in a face without blemish, there should come wrinkles without number. I did as you do, go with my glass, ravished with the pride of mine own beauty, & you shall do as I do, loath to see a glass disdaining deformity. There was none that heard of my fault, but shunned my favour, insomuch as I stooped for age before I tasted of youth, sure to be long lived, uncertain to be beloved. Gentlemen that used to sigh from their hearts for my sweet love, began to point with their fingers at my withered face, & laughed to see the eyes, out of which fire seemed to sparkle, to be suckered being old with spectacles. This causeth me to withdraw myself to a solitary cave, where I must lead six hundred years in no less pensiveness of crabbed age, than grief of remembered youth. Only this comfort, that being ceased to be fair, I study to be wise, wishing to be thought a grave matron, since I cannot return to be a young maid. Phao Is it not possible to die before you become so old? Sybilla No more possible than to return as you are, to be so young. Phao Could not you settle your fancy upon any, or would not destiny suffer it? Sybilla Women willingly ascribe that to fortune, which wittingly was committed by frowardness. Phao What will you have me do? Sybilla Take heed you do not as I did. Make not too much of fading beauty, which is fair in the cradle, & foul in the grave, resembling Polyon, whose leaves are white in the morning, and blue before night, or Anyta, which being a sweet flower at the rising of the sun, becometh a weed, if it be not plucked before the setting Fair faces have no fruits, if they have no witnesses. When you shall behold over this tender flesh a tough skin, your eyes which were wont to glance on others faces to be sunk so hollow, that you can scarce look out of your own head, and when all your teeth shall wag as fast as your tongue, then will you repent the time which you cannot recall, and be enforced to bear what most you blame. Lose not the pleasant time of your youth, than the which there is nothing swifter, nothing sweeter. Beauty is a slippery good, which decreaseth whilst it is increasing, resembling the Meddler, which in the moment of his full ripeness is known to be in a rottenness. Whiles you look in the glass, it waxeth old with time, if on the Sun parched with heat, if on the wind, blasted with cold. A great care to keep it, a short space to enjoy it, a sudden time to lose it. Be not coy, when you are courted. Fortune's wings are made of times feathers, which stay not whilst one may measure them. Be affable and courteous in youth, that you may be honoured in age. Roses that lose their colours, keep their savours, and plucked from the stalk, are put to the still. Cotonea, because it boweth when the sun riseth, is sweetest, when it is oldest: and children, which in their tender years sow courtesy, shall in their declining states reap pity. Be not proud of beauties painting whose colours consume themselves, because they are beauties painting. Phao I am driven by your counsel into diverse conceits, neither knowing how to stand, or where to fall, but to yield to love is the only thing I hate. Sybilla I commit you to fortune, who is like to play such pranks with you, as your tender years can scarce bear, nor your green wits understand. But repair unto me often, and if I cannot remove the effects, yet I will manifest the causes. Phao I go, ready to return for advice, before I am resolved to adventure. Sybilla Yet harken two words, thou shalt get friendship by dissembling, love by hatred, unless thou perish, thou shalt perish: in digging for a stone, thou shalt reach a star: thou shalt be hated most, because thou art loved most. Thy death shallbe feared & wished: so much for prophecy, which nothing can prevent: and this for counsel, which thou mayst follow. Keep not company with Ants, that have wings, nor talk with any, near the hill of a mole, where thou smellest the sweetness of serpent's breath, beware thou touch no part of the body. Be not merry among those that put bugloss in their wine, and sugar in thine. If any talk of the Eclipse of the sun, say thou never sawest it. Nourish no coneys in thy vaults, nor swallows in thine eves. Sow next thy vine mandrake, and ever keep thine ears open, and thy mouth shut, thine eyes upward, and thy fingers down: so shalt thou do better than otherwise, though never so well as I wish. Phao. Alas madam, your prophesy threateneth miseries, and your counsel warneth impossibilities. Sybilla Farewell, I can answer no more. Actus secundus, Schae na secunda. Phao, Sapho, Trachinus, Pandion, Criticus, Molus. Phao Unhappy Phao. But soft, what gallant troop is this? What Gentlewoman in this? Criti. Sapho, a Lady here in Sicily. Sapho. What fair boy is that? Trach. Phao, the Ferry man of Syracusa. Phao I never saw one more brave: be all Ladies of such majesty? Criti. No, this is she that all wonder at and worship. Sapho. I have seldom seen a sweeter face. Be all Ferry men of that fairness? Trach. No madam, this is he that Venus determined among men to make the fairest. Sapho. Seeing I am only come forth to take the air, I will cross the Ferry, and so the fields, then going in through the park, I think the walk will be pleasant. Trach. You will much delight in the flattering green, which now beginneth to be in his glory. Sapho Sir boy, will ye undertake to carry us over the water? Are you dumb, can you not speak? Phao madam, I crave pardon, I am spurblind, I could scarce see. Sapho It is pity in so good a face there should be an evil eye. Phao I would in my face there were never an eye. Sapho Thou canst never be rich in a trade of life of all the basest. Phao Yet content madam, which is a kind of life of all the best. Sapho Wilt thou forsake the ferry, and follow the court as a Page? Phao As it pleaseth fortune madam, to whom I am a prentice. Sapho Come, let us go? Trachi. Will you go Pandion. Pandi. Yea. Exeunt. Actus secundus, Schaena tertia. Molus, Cryticus, Calypho, Molus Criticus comes in good time, I shall not be alone. What news Criticus? Cryti. I taught you that lesson, to ask what news, & this is the news: to morrow there shallbe a desperate fray between two, made at all weapons, from the brown bill to the bodkin. Molus Now thou talkest of Frays, I pray thee what is that, whereof they talk so commonly in court, valour, the stab, the pistol, for the which every man that dareth is so much honoured? Criti. O Molus, beware of valour, he that can look big, and wear his dagger pommel lower than the point, that lieth at a good ward, and can hit a button with a thrust, and will into the field man to man for a bout or two, he, Molus, is a shrewd fellow, and shall be well followed. Molus What is the end? Criti. Danger or death. Molus If it be but death that bringeth all this commendation, I account him as valiant that is killed with a surfeit, as with a sword. Criti. How so? Molus If I venture upon a full stomach to eat a rasher on the coals, a carbonado, drink a carouse, swallow all things that may procure sickness or death, am not I as valiant to die so in a house, as the other in a field? methinks that Epicures are as desperate as soldiers, and cooks provide as good weapons as cutlers? Criti. O valiant knight. Molus I will die for it, what greater valour? Criti. scholars fight, who rather seek to choke their stomachs, then see their blood. Molus I will stand upon this point: if it be valour to dare die, he is valiant howsoever he dieth. Criti. Well, of this hereafter but here cometh Calipho, we will have some sport. Caly. My mistress, I think hath got a Gadfly, never at home, and yet none can tell where abroad. My master was a wise man, when he matched with such a woman. When she comes in, we must put out the fire, because of the smoke, hang up our hammers because of the noise, and do no work, but watch, what she wanteth. She is fair, but by my troth I doubt of her honesty. I must seek her, that I fear Mars hath found. Criti. Whom dost thou seek? Caly. I have found those I seek not. Molus I hope you have found those, which are honest. Caly. It may be: but I seek no such. Molus Criticus, you shall see me by learning to prove Calipho to be the devil. Cryti. Let us see but I pray thee prove it better, than thou didst thyself to be valiant. Molus Calipho, I will prove thee to be the devil. Caly. Then will I swear thee to be a God. Molus The devil is black. Caly. What care I. Molus Thou art black. Caly. What care you. Molus Therefore thou art the devil. Caly. I deny that. Molus It is the conclusion, thou must not deny it. Caly. In spite of all conclusions, I will deny it. Criti. Molus, the Smith holds you hard. Molus Thou seest he hath no reason. Criti. Try him again. Molus I will reason with thee now from a place. Caly. I mean to answer you in no other place. Molus Like master, like man. Caly. It may be. Molus But thy master hath horns. Caly. And so mayst thou. Molus Therefore thou hast horns, and ergo a devil, Caly. Be they all devils have horns? Molus All men that have horns, are. Caly. Then are there more devils on earth than in hell. Molus But what dost thou answer? Caly. I deny that. Molus What? Caly. Whatsoever it is, that shall prove me a devil. But hearest thou scholar, I am a plain fellow, and can fashion nothing but with the hammer. What wilt thou say, if I prove thee a smith? Molus Then will I say thou art a scholar. Cryti. Prove it Calipho, and I will give thee a good Colaphum. Caly. I will prove it, or else, Criti. Or else what? Caly. Or else I will not prove it. Thou art a Smith: therefore thou art a smith. The conclusion, you say, must not be denied: & therefore it is true, thou art a smith. Molus ay, but I deny your Antecedent. Caly. ay, but you shall not. Have I not touched him Criticus? Criti. You have both done learnedly: for as sure as he is a smith, thou art a devil. Caly. And then he a devil, because a smith: for that it was his reason to make me a devil being a smith. Molus There is no reasoning with these Mechanical dolts, whose wits are in their hands, not in their heads. Criti. Be not choleric, you are wise: but let us take up this matter with a song. Caly. I am content, my voice is as good as my reason. Molus Than shall we have sweet music. But come, I will not break of. Song. Exeunt. Actus secundus, Schaena quarta. Phao, Sybilla. Phao What unacquainted thoughts are these Phao, far unfit for thy thoughts, unmeet for thy birth, thy fortune, thy years, for Phao: unhappy, canst thou not be content to behold the sun, but thou must covet to build thy nest in the Sun? Doth Sapho bewitch thee, whom all the Ladies in Sicily could not woo: Yea, poor Phao, the greatness of thy mind is far above the beauty of thy face, and the hardness of thy fortune beyond the bitterness of thy words. Die Phao, Phao die: for there is no hope if thou be wise, nor safety, if thou be fortunate. Ah Phao, the more thou seekest to suppress those mounting affections, they soar the loftier, & the more thou wrestlest with them the stronger they wax, not unlike unto a ball, which the harder it is thrown against the earth, the higher it boundeth into the air: or our sicilian stone, which groweth hardest by hammering. O divine love, and therefore divine, because love, whose deity no conceit can compass, and therefore no authority can constrain, as miraculous in working as mighty, & no more to be suppressed then comprehended. how now Phao, whether art thou carried, committing idolatry with that God, whom thou hast cause to blaspheme. O Sapho, fair Sapho; peace miserable wretch, enjoy thy care in covert, we are willow in thy hat, and bay in thy heart. Lead a Lamb in thy hand, & a Fox in thy head, a dove on the back of thy hand, & a sparrow in the palm. Gold boileth best, when it bubbleth least, water runneth smoothest, where it is deepest. Let thy love hang at thy heart's bottom, not at the tongue's brim. Things untold, are undone, there can be no greater comfort, than to know much, nor any less labour, than to say nothing. But ah thy beauty Sapho, thy beauty. Beginnest thou to blab? I blab it Phao, as long as thou blabbest her beauty. Bees that die with honey, are buried with harmony. swans that end their lives with songs, are covered when they are dead, with flowers: and they that till their latter gasp commend beauty, shall be ever honoured with benefits. In these extremities I will go to none other Oracle, than Sibylla, whose old years have not been idle in these young attempts, & whose sound advice may mitigate (though the heavens cannot remove) my miseries. O Sapho, sweet Sapho, Sapho. Sibilla? Syb. Who is there? Phao One not worthy to be one. Syb. Fair Phao? Phao Unfortunate Phao. Syb. Come in. Phao So I will, and quite thy tale of Phoebus, with one whose brightness darkeneth Phoebus. I love Sapho, Sibylla, Sapho, ah Sapho, Sibylla. Syb. A short tale Phao, and a sorrowful, it asketh pity rather than counsel. Phao So it is Sibylla: yet in those firm years methinketh there should harbour such experience, as may defer, though not take away, my destiny. Syb. It is hard to cure that by words, which cannot be eased by herbs, and yet if thou wilt take advice, be attentive. Phao I have brought mine ears of purpose, and will hang at your mouth, till you have finished your discourse. Syb. Love, fair child, is to be governed by art, as thy boat by an oar: for fancy, though it cometh by hazard, is ruled by wisdom. If my precepts may persuade, (and I pray thee let them persuade) I would wish thee first to be diligent: for that women desire nothing more than to have their servants officious. Be always in sight, but never slothful. Flatter I mean, lie, little things catch light minds, and fancy is a worm, that feedeth first upon fennel. Imagine with thyself all are to be won, otherwise mine advise were as unnecessary as thy labour. It is unpossible for the brittle metal of women to withstand the flattering attempts of men: only this, let them be asked, their sex requireth no less, their modesties are to be allowed so much. Be prodigal in praises and promises, beauty must have a trumpet, & pride a gift. Peacocks never spread their feathers, but when they are flattered, & Gods are seldom pleased, if they be not bribed. There is none so foul, that thinketh not herself fair. In commending thou canst lose no labour. for of every one thou shalt be believed. O simple women, that are brought rather to believe what their ears hear of flattering men, then what their eyes see in true glasses. Phao You digress only to make me believe, that women do so lightly believe. Sybilla Then to the purpose. Choose such times to break thy suit, as thy Lady is pleasant. The wooden horse entered Troy, when the soldiers were quaffing, and Penelope forsooth, whom fables make so coy, among the pots wrong her wooers by the fists, when she lowered on their faces. Grapes are mind glasses. Venus worketh in Bacchus' press, & bloweth fire upon his liquor. When thou talkest with her, let thy speech be pleasant, but not incredible. Choose such words as may (as many may) melt her mind. Honey rankleth, when it is eaten for pleasure and fair words wound, when they are heard for love. Write, and persist in writing, they read more than is written to them, & write less than they think. In conceit study to be pleasant in attire brave, but not too curious, when she smileth laugh outright, if rise, stand up, if sit, lie down. Loose all thy time to keep time with her. Can you sing, show your cunning, can you dance, use your legs, can you play upon any instrument, practise your fingers to please her fancy, seek out qualities. If she seem at the first cruel, be not discouraged. I tell the a strange thing, women strive, because they would be overcome, force they call it: but such a welcome force they account it, that continually, they study to be enforced. To fair words join sweet kisses, which if they gently receive, I say no more, they will gently receive. But be not pinned always on her sleeves, strangers have green rushes, when daily guests are not worth a rush. Look pale, and learn to be lean, that who so seeth thee, may say, the Gentleman is in love. Use no sorcery to hasten thy success, wit is a witch, Ulysses was not fair, but wise, not cunning in charms, but sweet in speech, whose filed tongue made those enamoured that sought to have him enchanted. Be not coy, bear, sooth, swear, die to please thy Lady, these are rules for poor lovers, to others I am no mistress. He hath wit enough, that can give enough. Dumb men are eloquent, if they be liberal. Believe me great gifts are little Gods. When thy mistress doth bend her brow, do not thou bend thy fist. Camokes must be bowed with sleight, not strength, water to be trained with pipes, not stopped with sluices, fire to be quenched with dust, not with sword. If thou have a rival, be patient, art must wind him out not malice: time, not might, her change, and thy constancy. Whatsoever she weareth: swear it becomes her. In thy louce be secret. Venus' coffers, though they be hollow, never sound, & when they seem emptiest, they are fullest. Old fool that I am, to do thee good, I begin to dote, & counsel that, which I would have concealed. Thus Phao have I given thee certain regards, no rules, only to set thee in the way, not to bring thee home. Phao Ah Sibylla, I pray go on, that I may glut myself in this science. Syb. Thou shalt not surfeit Phao, whilst I diet thee. Flies that die on the honey suckle become poison to bees. A little in love is a great deal. Phao But all that can be said not enough. Syb. White silver draweth black lines, and sweet words will breed sharp torments. Phao What shall become of me? Syb. Go dare Phao I go, Phao, thou canst but die, & then as good die with great desires, as pine in base fortunes. Exit. Actus tertius, Schaena prima. Trachinus, Pandion, Mileta, Ismena, Eugenua. Trach. Sapho is fallen suddenly sick, I cannot guess the cause. Milet. Some cold belike, or else a woman's qualm. Pandi. A strange nature of cold, to drive one into such an heat. Milet. Your Physic sir I think be of the second sort, else would you not judge it rare, that hot fevers are engendered by cold causes. Pandi. Indeed Lady, I have no more Physic than will purge choler, and that if it please you, I will practise upon you. It is good for women that be waspish. Isme. Faith sir no, you are best purge your own melancholy: belike you are a male content. Pandi. It is true, and are not you a female content. Trach. Soft, I am not content, that a male and Female content, should go together. Milet. Ismena is disposed to be merry. Isme. No, it is Pandion would feign seem wise. Trach. You shall not fall out? for Pigeons after biting fall to billing, and open jars make the closest jests. Euge. Mileta, Ismena, Mileta: Come away, my Lady is in a sown. Milet. ay me. Isme. Come, let us make haste. Trach. I am sorry for Sapho: because she will take no Physic, like you Pandion, who being sick of the sullens, will seek no friend. Pandi. Of men we learn to speak, of Gods to hold our peace. Silence shall digest what folly hath swallowed, and wisdom wean what fancy hath nursed. Trach. Is it not love? Pandi. If it were, what then? Trach. Nothing, but that I hope it be not. Pandi. Why, in courts there is nothing more common. And as to be bald among the Micanyans it was accounted no shame, because they were all bald: so to be in love among courtiers it is no discredit: for that they are all in love. Trach. Why, what do you think of our Ladies? Pandi. As of the Seres wool, which being whitest & softest, fretteth soon stand deepest. Trach. I will not tempt you in your deep Melancholy, lest you seem sour to those, which are so sweet. But come, let us walk a little into the fields, it may be the open air will disclose your close conceits. Pandi. I will go with you: but send our pages away. Exeunt. Actus tertius, Schaena secunda. Cryticus, Molus, Calyploo. Criti. What brown study art thou in Molus, no mirth? no life? Molus I am in the depth of my learning driven to a muse, how this lent I shall scamble in the court, that was wont to fast so oft in the University. Criti Thy belly is thy God. Molus Then is he a deaf God. Criti. Why? Molus For venture non habet aures. But thy back is thy God. Criti. Then is it a blind God. Molus How prove you that? Criti. Easy. Nemo videt manticae, quod intergo est. Molus Then would the satchel that hangs at your God, id est, your back, were full of meat to stuff my God, hoc est, my belly. Criti. Excellent. But how canst thou study, when thy mind is only in the kitchen? Molus Doth not the horse travel best, that sleepeth with his head in the manger? Criti. Yes, what then? Molus Good wits will apply. But what cheer is there here this Lent? Criti. Fish. Molus I can eat none, it is wind. Cryti. Eggs. Molus I must eat none, they are fire. Criti. Cheese. Molus It is against the old verse, Caseus est nequam. Cryti. Yea, but it disgesteth all things except itself. Molus Yea, but if a man hath nothing else to eat, what shall it digest? Criti. You are disposed to jest. But if your silken throat can swallow no packthread, you must pick your teeth, and play with your trencher. Molus So shall I not incur the fulsome & unmannerly sin of surfeiting. But here cometh Calipho. Criti. What news? Caly. Since my being here, I have sweat like a dog, to prove my master a devil, he brought such reasons to refel me, as I promise you, I shall like the better of his wit, as long as I am with him. Molus How? Caly. Thus, I always arguing that he had horns, & therefore a devil, he said: fool, they are things like horns, but no horns. For once in the Senate of God's being hold a solemn session, in the midst of their talk I put in my sentence, which was so indifferent, that they all concluded it might aswell have been left out, as put in, and so placed on each side of my head things like horns, and called me a Parenthesis, Now my masters, this may be true, for I have seen it myself about diverse sentences. Molus It is true, and the same time did Mars make a full point, that Vulcan's head was made a Parenthesis. Criti. This shall go with me, I trust in Syracusa to give one or other a Parenthesis. Molus Is Venus yet come home? Caly. No, but were I Vulcan, I would by the Gods, Criti. What wouldest thou? Caly. Nothing, but as Vulcan halt by the Gods. Criti. I thought you would have hardly entreated Venus. Caly. Nay, Venus is easily entreated: but let that go by. Criti. What? Caly. That which maketh so many Parenthesis. Molus I must go by too, or else my master will not go by me: but meet me full with his fist. Therefore, if we shall sing, give me my part quickly: for if I tarry long, I shall cry my part woefully. Song. Exeunt. Actus tertius, Schaena tertia. Sapho in her bed, Mileta, Ismena, Kanope, Eugenua, Favilla, Lamya. Sapho. hay ho: I know not which way to turn me Ah, ah, I faint, I die, Milet. madam, I think it good you have more clothes, and sweat it out. Sapho No, no, the best ease I find is to sigh it out. Isme. A strange disease, that should breed such a desire. Sapho A strange desire that hath brought such a disease. Cano. Where, Lady, do you feel your most pain? Sapho Where nobody else can feel it Canope. Cano. At the heart? Sapho In the heart. Cano. Will you have any mithridate? Sapho Yea, if for this disease there were any mithridate? Milet. Why? what disease is it Madam, that physic can not cure? Sapho Only the disease Mileta that I have. Milet. Is it a burning ague? Sapho I think so, or a burning agony. Euge. Will you have any of this Syrup, to moisture your mouth? Sapho Would I had some local things to dry my brain. Fauil. madam will you see if you can sleep? Sapho Sleep Favilla: I shall then dream. Lami. As good dream sleeping, as sigh waking. Euge. Phao is cunning in all kind of simples, and it is hard, if there be none to procure sleep. Sapho Who? Euge. Phao. Sapho Yea Phao, Phao, ah Phao, let him come presently. Milet. Shall we draw the curtains, whilst you give yourself to slumber? Sapho Do, but depart not, I have such starts in my sleep, disquieted I know not how. In a slumber .Phao, Phao. Isme. What say you madam? Sapho Nothing, but if I sleep not now, you send for Phao. Ah Gods. she falleth asleep. The Curtains drawn. Milet. There is a fish called Garus, that healeth all sickness, so as whilst it is applied one name not Garus. Euge. An evil medicine for us women: for if we should be forbidden to name Garus, we should chat nothing but Garus. Cano. Well said Eugenua, you know yourself. Euge. Yea Canope, and that I am one of your sex. Isme. I have heard of an herb called Lunary, that being bound to the pulses of the sick, causeth nothing but dreams of weddings and dances. Fauil. I think Ismena, that herb be at thy pulses now: for thou art ever talking of matches and merriments. Cano. It is an unlucky sign in the chamber of the sick to talk of marriages; for my mother said, it foreshoweth death. Milet. It is very evil to Canope to sit at the beds feet, and foretelleth danger: therefore remove your stool, and sit by me. Lamy. Sure it is some cold she hath taken. Isme. If one were burnt, I think we women would say, he died of a cold. Fauil. It may be some conceit. Milet. Then is there no fear: for yet did I never hear of a woman that died of a conceit. Euge. I mistrust her not: for that the owl hath not shrieked at the window, or the night Raven crooked, both being fatal. Fauil. You are all superstitious: for these be but fancies of doting age: who by chance observing it in some, have set it down as a religion for all. Milet. Favilla, thou art but a Girl, I would not have a Weasel cry, nor desire to see a Glass, nor an old wife come into my chamber: for then though I lingered in my disease, I should never escape it. Sapho Ah, who is there? what sudden affrights be these? methought Phao came with simples to make me sleep. Did nobody name Phao before I began to slumber? Milet Yes, we told you of him. Sapho Let him be here too morrow. Milet. He shall, will you have a little broth to comfort you? Sapho I can relish nothing. Milet. Yet a little you must take to sustain nature. Sapho I cannot Mileta, I will not. Oh, which way shall I lie? what shall I do? Heigh ho. O Mileta, help to rear me up, my bed, my head lies too low. You pester me with too many clothes. Fie, you keep the chamber too hot, avoid it, it may be I shall steal a nap when all are gone. Mileta we will. Sapho sola. Ah impatient disease of love, and Goddess of love thrice unpitiful. The Eagle is never stricken with thunder, nor the Olive with lightning and may great Ladies be plagued with love? O Venus, have I not strawed thine Altars with sweet roses? kept thy swans in clear rivers? feed thy sparrows with ripe corn, & harboured thy doves in fair houses? Thy tortoise have I nourished under my fig tree, my chamber have I ceiled with thy Cockleshells, & dipped thy spung into the freshest waters. Didst thou nurse me in my swaddling clouts with wholesome herbs, that I might perish in my flouting years by fancy? I perceive, but too late I perceive, and yet not too late, because at last, that strains are caught as well by stooping too low, as reaching too high: that eyes are bleared as soon with vapours that come from the earth, as with beams that proceed from the sun. Love lodgeth sometimes in caves: & thou Phoebus, that in the pride of thy hair shinest all day in our Horizon, at night dippest thy head in the Ocean. Resist it Sapho, whilst it is yet tender. Of Acorns comes Oaks, of drops floods, of sparks flames of Atomies Elements. But alas it fareth with me as with wasps, who feeding on serpents, make their stings more venomous: for glutting myself on the face of Phao, I have made my desire more desperate. Into the nest of an halcyon no bird can enter but the halcyon, and into the heart of so great a Lady can any creep but a great Lord? There is an herb (not unlike unto my love) which the further it groweth from the sea, the salter it is, and my desires the more they serve from reason, the more seem they reasonable. When Phao cometh, what then? wilt thou open thy love? Yea. No Sapho: but staring in his face till thine eyes dazzle, and thy spirits faint, die before his face: than this shall be written on thy Tomb, that though thy love were greater than wisdom could endure; yet thine honour was such, as love could not violate, Mileta? Milet. I come. Sapho. It will not be, I can take no rest, which way soever I turn. Milet. A strange malady. Sapho. Mileta, if thou wilt, a martyrdom. But give me my lute, and I will see if in song I can beguile mine own eyes. Milet. Here madam. Sapho. Have you sent for Phao? Milet. Yea. Sapho. And to bring simples that will procure sleep? Milet. No. Sapho. Foolish wensh, what should the boy do here, if he bring not remedies with him? you think belike I could sleep if I did but see him, Let him not come at all, yes, let him come: no, it is no matter: yet will I try, let him come: do you hear? Milet. Yea madam, it shall be done Peace, no noise: she beginneth to fall asleep. I will go to Phao. Isme. Go speedily: for if she wake, and find you not here, she will be angry. Sick folks are testy, who though they eat nothing yet they feed on gall. The song. Actus tertius, Schaena prima. Mileta, Phao, Ismena, Sapho, Venus. Milet. I would either your cunning, Phao, or your fortune might by simples provoke my Lady to some slumber. Phao. My simples are in operation as my simplicity is, which if they do little good, assuredly they can do no harm. Milet. Were I sick, the very sight of thy fair face would drive me into a sound sleep. Phao. Indeed Gentlewomen are so drowsy in their desires, that they can scarce hold up their eyes for love. Milet. I mean the delight of beauty would so blind my senses, as I should be quickly rocked into a deep rest. Phao. You women have an excuse for an advantage, which must be allowed: because only to you women it was allotted. Milet. Phao, thou art passing fair, & able to draw a chaste eye not only to glance: but to gaze on thee. Thy young years, thy quick wit, thy stayed desires are of force to control those which should command. Phao. Lady, I forgot to commend you first, and least I should have overslipped to praise you at all, you have brought in my beauty, which is simple, that in courtesy I might remember yours, which is singular. Milet. You mistake of purpose, or misconster of malice. Phao. I am as far from malice, as you from love, & to mistake of purpose, were to mislike of peevishness. Milet. As far as I from love? Why, think you me so dull I cannot love, or so spiteful I will not? Phao. Neither Lady: but how should men imagine women can love, when in their mouths there is nothing rifer, than in faith I do not love. Milet. Why, will you have women's love in their tongs? Phao. Yea, else do I think there is none in their hearts. Milet. Why? Phao. Because there was never any thing in the bottom of a woman's heart, that cometh not to her tongue's end. Milet. You are too young to cheapen love. Sapho. Yet old enough to talk with market folks. Milet. Well, let us in. Isme. Phao is come. Sapho. Who? Phao? Phao, let him come near: but who sent for him? Milet. You madam. Sapho. I am loath to take any medicines: yet must I rather than pine in these maladies. Phao, you may make me sleep, if you will? Phao. If I can, I must, if you will? Sapho. What herbs have you brought Phao? Phao. Such as will make you sleep madam, though they cannot make me slumber. Sapho. Why, how can you cure me, when you cannot remedy yourself? Phao. Yes madam, the causes are contrary. For it is only a dryness in your brains, that keepeth you from rest, But, Sapho. But what? Phao. Nothing, but mine is not so. Sapho. Nay, than I despair of help, if our disease be not all one. Phao. I would our diseases were all one. Sapho. It goes hard with the patient, when the Physician is desperate. Phao. Yet Medea made the everwaking Dragon to snort, when she poor soul could not wink. Sapho. Medea was in love, & nothing could cause her rest but jason. Phao. Indeed I know no herb to make lovers sleep but Hearts ease, which because it groweth so high, I cannot reach: for, Sapho. For whom? Phao. For such as love. Sapho. It groweth very low, and I can never stoop to it that, Phao. That what? Sapho. That I may gather it: but why do you sight so Phao Phao. It is mine use madam. Sapho. It will do you harm, and me too: for I never hear one sigh, but I must sight also. Phao. It were best then that your Ladyship give me leave to be gone: for I can but sigh. Sapho. Nay stay: for now I begin to sigh, I shall not leave, though you be gone. But what do you think best for your sighing to take it away. Phao. Yew madam. Sapho. Me? Phao. No madam, yew of the tree. Sapho. Then will I love you the better. And indeed I think it would make me sleep too, therefore all other simples set aside, I will simply use only you. Phao. Do madame: for I think nothing in the world so good as you. Sapho. Farewell for this time. Venus. Is not your name Phao? Phao. Phao, fair Venus, whom you made so fair. Venus. So passing fair, O fair Phao, O sweet Phao: what wilt thou do for Venus? Phao. Anything that cometh in the compass of my poor fortune. Venus. Cupid shall teach thee to shoot, & I will instruct thee to dissemble. Phao. I will learn any thing but dissembling. Venus. Why my boy. Phao. Because then I must learn to be a woman, Venus. Thou heardest that of a man. Phao. Men speak truth. Venus. But truth is a she, and so always painted. Phao. I think a painted truth. Venus. Well, farewell for this time; for I must visit Sapho. Phao exit. Actus quartus, Schaena prima. Venus, Sapho, Cupid. Venus. Sapho, I have heard thy complaints, and pitied thine agonies. Sapho. O Venus, my cares are only known to thee, and by thee only came the cause. Cupid, why didst thou wound me so deep? Cupid. My mother bade me draw mine arrow to the head. Sapho. Venus, why didst thou prove so hateful? Venus. Cupid took a wrong shaft. Sapho. O Cupid too unkind, to make me so kind, that almost I transgress the modesty of my kind. Cupid. I was blind, and could not see mine arrow. Sapho. How came it to pass, thou didst hit my heart? Cupid. That came by the nature of the head, which being once let out of the bow, can find none other lighting place but the heart. Venus. Be not dismayed, Phao shall yield. Sapho. If he yield, then shall I shame to embrace one so mean if not, die: because I cannot embrace one so mean. Thus do I find no mean. Venus. Well, I will work for thee. Farewell. Sapho. Farewell sweet Venus, and thou Cupid, which art sweetest in thy sharpness. Exit Sapho. Actus quartus, Schaena secunda. Venus, Cupid. Venus. Cupid, what hast thou done put thine arrows in Phao's eyes, and wounded thy mother's heart? Cupid. You gave him a face to allure, then why should not I give him eyes to pierce? Venus. O Venus, un happy Venus, who in bestowing a benefit upon a man, hast brought a bane unto a Goddess. What perplexities dost thou feel? O fair Phao, and therefore made fair to breed in me a frenzy? O would that when I gave thee golden locks to curl thy head, I had shackled thee with iron locks on thy feet. And when I nursed thee Sapho with lettuce, would it had turned to hemlock, Have I brought a smooth skin over thy face to make a rough scar in my heart? and given thee a fresh colour like the damask rose, to make mine pale like the stained Turkey. O Cupid, thy flames with Psyche's were but sparks, and my desires with Adonis but dreams, in respect of these unacquainted torments. Laugh juno, Venus is in love, but juno shall not see with whom, lest she be in love. Venus belike is become stale. Sapho forsooth because she hath many virtues, therefore she must have all the favours. Venus waxeth old: and then she was a pretty wench, when juno was a young wife, now crows foot is on her eye, and the black ox hath trod on her foot. But were Sapho never so virtuous, doth she think to contend with Venus to be as amorous? Yield Phao, but yield to me Phao, I entreat where I may command, command thou, where thou shouldest entreat. In this case Cupid what is thy counsel, Venus must both play the lover & the dissembler, & therefore the dissembler, because the Lover. Cupid. You will ever be playing with arrows, like children with knives, & then when you bleed, you cry, go to Vulcan, entreat by prayers, threaten with blows, woo with kisses, ban with curses, try all means to rid these extremities. Venus. To what end? Cupid. That he might make me new arrows: for nothing can root out the desires of Phao, but a new shaft of inconstancy, nor any thing turn Sappho's, but a new arrow of disdain. And then they disliking one the other, who shall enjoy Phao but Venus? Venus. I will follow thy counsel. For Venus, though she be in her latter age for years: yet is she in her Nonage for affections. When Venus ceaseth to love, let love cease to rule. But come, let us to Vulcan. Exeunt. Actus quartus, Schaena tertia. Sapho, Mileta, Ismena, Eugenna, Lamya, Favilla, Canope. Sapho. What dreams are these Mileta? and can there be no truth in dreams? yea, dreams have their truth. methought I saw a Stock dove or woodquist, I know not how to term it, that brought short straws to build his nest in a tall cedar, where, whiles with his bill he was framing his building, he lost as many feathers from his wings, as he laid straws in his nest: yet scambling to catch hold to harbour in the house he had made, he suddenly fell from the bough where he stood. And then pitifully casting up his eyes, he cried in such terms (as I imagined) as might either condemn the nature of such a tree, or the daring of such a mind. Whilst he lay quaking upon the ground, & I gazing one the cedar, I might perceive Ants to breed in the rind coveting only to hoard, & caterpillars to cleave to the leaves, labouring only to suck, which caused more leaves to fall from the tree, then there did feathers before from the dove. methought Mileta, I sighed in my sleep, pitying both the fortune of the bird, & the misfortune of the tree but in this time quills began to bud again in the bird, which made him look as though he would fly up, and then wished I that the body of the tree would bow, that he might but creep up the tree, then and so. heigh, ho. Milet. And so what? Sapho. Nothing Mileta: but, and so I waked. But did nobody dream but I? Milet. I dreamed last night, but I hope dreams are contrary, that holding my head over a sweet smoke, all my hair blazed on a bright flame. methought Ismena cast water to quench it: yet the sparks fell on my bosom, and wiping them away with my hand, I was all in a gore blood, till one with a few fresh flowers staunched it. And so stretching myself as stiff I started, it was but a dream. Isme. It is a sign you shall fall in love with hearing fair words. Water signifieth counsel, flowers death. And nothing can purge your loving humour but death. Milet. You are no interpreter: but an interpreter, harping always upon love, till you be as blind as a harper. Isme. I remember last night but one, I dreamed mine eye tooth was loose, & that I thrust it out with my tongue. Milet. It foretelleth the loss of a friend: and I ever thought thee so full of prattle, that thou wouldest thrust out the best friend with the tattling. Isme. Yea Mileta: but it was loose before, and if my friend be loose, as good thrust out with plain words, as kept in with dissembling. Euge. Dreams are but dotings, which come either by things we see in the day, or meats that we eat, and so the common sense preferring it to be the imaginative. Isme. Soft Philosophatrix, well seen in the secrets of art, and not seduced with the superstitions of nature. Sapho. Ismena's tongue never lieth still, I think all her teeth will be loose, they are so often jogged against her tongue. But say on Eugenua. Euge. There is all. Sapho. What did you dream, Canope? Cano. I seldom dream madam: but sithence your sickness, I cannot tell whether with over watching but I have had many fantastical visions, for even now slumbering by your beds side, methought I was shadowed with a cloud, where labouring to unwrap myself, I was more entangled. But in the midst of my striving, it seemed to myself gold, with fair drops, I filled my lap, and running to show it my fellows, it turned to dust, I blushed, they laughed; and than I waked, being glad it was but a dream. Isme. Take heed Canope, that gold tempt not your lap, and than you blush for shame. Cano. It is good luck to dream of gold. Isme. Yea, if it had continued gold. Lamya. I dream every night, and the last night this. Me though that walking in the sun, I was stung with the fly Tarantula, whose venom nothing can expel but the sweet consent of music. I tried all kind of instruments, but found no ease, till at the last two Lutes tuned in one key, so glutted my thirsting ears, that my grief presently seized, for joy whereof as I was clapping my hands, your Ladyship called. Milet. It is a sign that nothing shall assuage your love but marriage: for such is the tying of two in wedlock, as is the tuning of two Lutes, in one key: for striking the strings of the one, straws will stir upon the strings of the other, and in two minds linked in love, one cannot be delighted but the other rejoiceth. Fauil. methought going by the sea side among pebbles, I saw one playing with a round stone, ever throwing it into the water, when the sun shined: I asked the name, he said, it was called Abeston, which being once hot, would never be cold, he gave it me, and vanished. I forgetting myself, delighted with the fair show, would always show it by candle light, pull it out in the Sun, and see how bright it would look in the fire, where catching heat, nothing could cool it: for anger I threw it against the wall, and with the heaving up of mine arm I waked. Milet. Beware of love, Favilla: for women hearts are such stones, which warmed by affection, cannot be cold by wisdom. Fauil. I warrant you: for I never credit men's words. Isme. Yet be wary, for women are scorched sometimes with men's eyes, though they had rather consume than confess. Sapho. Cease your talking: for I would feign sleep, to see if I can dream, whether the bird hath feathers, or the aunt's wings. Draw the curtain. Actus quartus, Schaena quarta. Venus, Vulcan, Cupid. Venus. Come Cupid, Vulcan's flames must quench Venus' fires. Vulcan? Vulc. Who? Venus. Venus. Vulc. Ho, ho, Venus. Venus. Come sweet Vulcan, thou knowest how sweet thou hast found Venus, who being, of all the goddesses the most fair, hath chosen thee of all the Gods the most foul, thou must needs then confess I was most loving. inquire not the cause of my suit by questions: but prevent the effects by courtesy. Make me six arrow heads: it is given thee of the Gods by permission to frame them to any purpose, I shall request them by prayer. Why lourest thou Vulcan? wilt thou have a kiss: hold up thy head. Venus hath young thoughts, and fresh affections. Roots have strings, when boughs have no leaves. But harken in thine ear Vulcan: how sayest thou? Vulc. Vulcan is a God with you, when you are disposed to flatter. A right woman, whose tongue is like a bee's sting, which pricketh deepest, when it is fullest of honey. Because you have made mine eyes drunk with fair looks, you will set mine ears on edge with sweet words. You were wont to say that the beating of hammers made your head ache, and the smoke of the forge your eyes water, and every coal was a block in your way. You weep rose water, when you ask, and spit vinegar, when you have obtained. What would you now, with new arrows? belike Mars hath a tougher skin one his heart, or Cupid a weaker arm, or Venus a better courage. Well Venus, there is never a smile in your face but hath made a wrinkle in my forehead. Ganymedes must fill your cup, and you will pledge none but jupiter. But I will not chide Venus: Come Cyclops, my wife must have her will let us do that in earth, which the Gods cannot undo in heaven. Venus. Gramercy sweet Vulcan: to your work. The Song in making of the Arrows. Vulc. Here Venus, I have finished these arrows by art, bestow them you by wit: for as great advise must he use that hath them, as he cunning that made them. Venus. Vulcan, now you have done with your forge, let us alone with the fancy: you are as the Fletcher, not the Archer, to meddle with the arrow, not the aim. Vulc. I thought so: when I have done working, you have done wooing. Where is now sweet Vulcan? Well, I can say no more, but this which is enough, and as much as any can say: Venus is a woman. Venus. Be not angry Vulcan, I will love thee again, when I have either business, or nothing else to do. Cupid. My mother will make much of you, when there are no more men than Vulcan. Actus quintus, Schaena prima Venus, Cupid. Venus. Come Cupid, receive with thy father's instruments, thy mother's instructions: for thou must be wise in conceit, if thou wilt be fortunate in execution. This arrow is feathered with the wings of Aegitus, which never sleepeth for fear of his hen: the head touched with the stone Perillus, which causeth mistrust and jealousy. Shoot this, Cupid, at men that have fair wives, which will make them rub the brows, when they swell in the brains. This shaft is headed with Lydian steel, which striketh a deep disdain of that which we most desire, the feathers are of turtle, but dipped in the blood of a Tigress, draw this up close to the head at Sapho, that she may despise, where now she dotes. Good my boy, gall her on the side, that for Phaos' love she may never sigh. This arrow is feathered with the Phoenix wing, and headed with the eagle's bill, it maketh men passionate in desires, in love constant, and wise in conveyance, melting as it were their fancies into faith: this arrow, sweet child, and with as great aim as thou canst, must Phao be stricken withal, and cry softly to thyself in the very loose, Venus. Sweet Cupid mistake me not, I will make a quiver for that by itself. The fourth hath feathers of the Peacock, but glued with the gum of the Myrtle tree, headed with fine gold, and fastened with brittle Chrysocoll: this shoot at dainty and coy Ladies, at amiable and young Nymphs, choose no other white but women: for this will work liking in their minds, but not love affability in speech, but no faith, courtly favours, to be Mistresses over many, but constant to none: sighs to be fetched from the longs, not the heart, and tears to be wrong out with their fingers, not their eyes, secret laughing at men's pale looks and neat attire, open rejoicing at their own comeliness and men's courting. Shoot this arrow among the thickest of them, whose bosoms lie open, because they would be stricken with it. And seeing men term women Jupiter's fools, women shall make men Venus' fools. This shaft is lead in the head, and whose feathers are of the night Raven, a deadly and poisoned shaft, which breedeth hate only against those which sue for love. Take heed Cupid thou hit not Phao with this shaft: for then shall Venus perish. This last is an old arrow, but newly mended, the arrow which hit both Sapho and Phao, working only in mean minds an aspiring to superiors, & in high estates a stooping to inferiors: with this Cupid I am galled myself, till thou have galled Phao with the other. Cupid. I warrant you I will cause Phao to languish in your love and Sapho to disdain his. Venus Go, loiter not, nor mistake your shaft. Now Venus, hast thou played a cunning part, though not current. But why should Venus dispute of unlawfulness in love, or faith in affection? being both the Goddess of love and affection? knowing there is as little truth to be used in love, as there is reason. No, sweet Phao, Venus will obtain because she is venus. Not thou jove with thunder in thy hand, shalt take him out of my hands. I have new arrows now for my boy, and fresh flames, at which the Gods shall tremble, if they begin to trouble me. But I will expect the event, and tarry for Cupid at the forge. Actus quintus, Schaena secunda. Sapho, Cupid, Mileta, Venus. Sapho. What hast thou done Cupid? Cupid. That my mother commanded, Sapho. Sapho. My thinks I feel an alteration in my mind, and as it were a withstanding in myself of mine own affections. Cupid. Then hath mine arrow his effect. Sapho. I pray thee tell me the cause? Cupid. I dare not. Sapho. Fear nothing: for if Venus fret, Sapho can frown, thou shalt be my son. Mileta, give him some sweet meats, speak good Cupid, and I will give thee many pretty things. Cupid. My mother is in love with Phao, she willed me to strike you with disdain of him, and him with desire of her. Sapho. O spiteful Venus, Mileta give him some of that. What else Cupid? Cupid. I could be even with my mother: and so I will, if I shall call you mother? Sapho. Yea Cupid, call me any thing, so I may be even with her. Cupid. I have an arrow, with which if I strike Phao, it will cause him to loathe only Venus. Sapho. Sweet Cupid, strike Phao with it. Thou shalt sit in my lap, I will rock thee asleep, and feed thee with all these fine knacks. Cupid. I will about it. Exit Cupid. Sapho. But come quickly again. Ah unkind Venus, is this thy promise to Sapho? But if I get Cupid from thee, I myself will be the Queen of love. I will direct these arrows with better aim, and conquer mine own affections, with greater modesty. Venus' heart shall flame, and her love be as common as her craft. O Mileta, time hath disclosed that, which my temperance hath kept in: but sith I am rid of the disease, I will not be ashamed to confess the cause. I loved Phao Mileta, a thing unfit for my degree, but forced by my desire. Milet. Phao? Sapho. Phao, Mileta, of whom now Venus is enamoured. Milet. And do you love him still. Sapho. No, I feel relenting thoughts, and reason not yielding to appetite. Let Venus have him, no, she shall not have him. But here comes Cupid. How now my boy, hast thou done it? Cupid. Yea, and left Phao railing on Venus, and cursing her name: yet still sighing for Sapho, and blazing her virtues. Sapho. Alas poor Phao, thy extreme love should not be requited with so mean a fortune, thy fair face deserved greater favours: I cannot love, Venus hath hardened my heart. Venus. I marvel Cupid cometh not all this while. How now, in Sappho's lap? Sapho. Yea Venus, what say you to it, in Sappho's lap. Venus. Sir boy, come hither? Cupid. I will not. Venus. What now? will you not? hath Sapho made you so saucy? Cupid. I will be Sappho's son, I have as you commanded stricken her with a deep disdain of Phao, and Phao as she entreated me, with a great despite of you. Venus. Unhappy wag, what hast thou done? I will make thee repent it every vain in thy heart. Sapho. Venus be not choleric, Cupid is mine, he hath given me his Arrows, and I will give him a new bow to shoot in. You are not worthy to be the Lady of love, that yield so often to the impressions of love. Immodest Venus, that to satisfy the unbridled thoughts of thy heart, transgressest so far from the stay of thine honour. how sayest thou Cupid, wilt thou be with me? Cupid. Yes. Sapho. Shall not I be on earth the Goddess of affections? Cupid. Yes. Sapho. Shall not I rule the fancies of men, and lead Venus in chains like a captive? Cupid. Yes. Sapho. It is a good boy. Venus. What have we here? you the Goddess of Love? and you her son, Cupid? I will tame that proud heart, else shall the Gods say, they are not Venus friends. And as for you, sit boy, I will teach you how to run away: you shallbe stripped from top to toe, and whipped with nettles, not roses. I will set you to blow Vulcan's coals, not to bear Venus' quiver, I will handle you for this gear: well, I say no more. But as for the new Mistress of love, or Lady, I cry you mercy, I think you would be called a Goddess, you shall know what it is to usurp the name of Venus. I will pull those plumes, and cause you to cast your eyes on your feet, not your feathers: your soft hair will I turn to hard bristles, your tongue to a sting, and those alluring eyes to unluckiness, in which if the God's aid me not, I will curse the Gods. Sapho. Venus, you are in a vain answerable to your vanity, whose high words neither become you, nor fear me. But let this suffice, I will keep Cupid in despite of you, and yet with the content of the Gods. Venus. Will you? why then we shall have pretty Gods in heaven, when you take God's prisoners on earth. Before I sleep you shall both repent, and find what it is but to think unreverently of Venus. Come Cupid, she knows not how to use thee, come with me, you know what I have for you: will you not? Cupid. Not I. Venus. Well, I will be even with you both, & that shortly, Exit. Sapho. Cupid, fear not, I will direct thine arrows better. Every rude ass shall not say he is in love. It is a toy made for Ladies, and I will keep it only for Ladies. Cupid. But what will you do for Phao? Sapho. I will wish him fortunate. This will I do for Phao, because I once loved Phao: for never shall it be said that Sapho loved to hate, or that out of love she could not be as courteous, as she was in love passionate. Come Mileta, shut the door. Exeunt. Actus quintus, Schaena tertia. Phao. Sybilla. Phao. Go to Sibylla, tell the beginning of thy love, and the end of thy fortune. And lo how happily she sitteth in her cave. Sibylla? Syb. Phao, welcome, what news? Phao. Venus, the Goddess of love I loathe, Cupid caused it with a new shaft. Sapho disdaineth me, Venus caused it for a new spite. O Sibylla, if Venus be unfaithful in love, where shall one fly for truth? she useth deceit, is it not then likely she will dispense with subtlety. And being careful to commit injuries, will she not be careless to revenge them? I must now fall from love to labour, and endeavour with mine oar to get a fare, not with my pen to write a fancy. loves are but smokes, which vanish in the seeing, and yet hurt whilst they are seen. A Ferry Phao, no the stars cannot call it a worser fortune. Range rather over the world, forswear affections, entreat for death. O Sapho, thou hast Cupid in thine arms, I in my heart, thou kissest him for sport, I must curse him for spite: yet will I not curse him Sapho, whom thou kissest. This shallbe my resolution, wherever I wander, to be as I were ever kneeling before Sapho, my loyalty unspotted, though unrewarded. With as little malice will I go to my grave, as I did lie with all in my cradle. My life shallbe spent in sighing and wishing, the one for my bad fortune, the other for Sappho's good. Sybil. Do so Phao: for destiny calleth thee as well from Sicily as from love. Other things hang over thy head, which I must neither tell, nor thou inquire. And so farewell. Phao. Farewell Sibylla, and farewell Sicily. Thoughts shallbe thy food, and in thy steps shallbe printed behind thee, that there was none so loyal left behind thee. Farewell Syracusa, unworthy to harbour faith, and when I am gone, unless Sapho be here, unlikely to harbour any. The Epilogue. THey that tread in a maze, walk oftentimes in one path, & at the last come out where they entered in. we fear we have led you all this while in a Labyrinth of conceits, diverse times hearing one device, & have now brought you to an end, where we first began. Which wearisome travail, you must impute to the necessity of the history, as Theseus did his labour to the art of the Labyrinth. There is nothing causeth such giddiness, as going in a wheel, neither can there any thing breed such tediousness, as hearing many words uttered in a small compass. But if you accept this dance of a Fairy in a circle, we will hereafter at your wills frame our fingers to all forms. And so we wish every one of you a thread to lead you out of the doubts, wherewith we leave you entangled: that nothing be mistaken by our rash oversights, nor misconstrued by your deep insights. Imprinted at London by Thomas Dawson, for Thomas Cadman.