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Cynthia's Revels Part 17

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HEDON SINGS.

O, that joy so soon should waste!

Or so sweet a bliss As a kiss Might not for ever last!

So sugar'd, so melting, so soft, so delicious, The dew that lies on roses, When the morn herself discloses, Is not so precious.

O rather than I would it smother, Were I to taste such another; It should be my wis.h.i.+ng That I might die with kissing.

HED. I made this ditty, and the note to it, upon a kiss that my Honour gave me; how like you it, sir?

AMO. A pretty air; in general, I like it well: but in particular, your long die-note did arride me most, but it was somewhat too long. I can show one almost of the same nature, but much before it, and not so long, in a composition of mine own. I think I have both the note and ditty about me.

HED. Pray you, sir, see.

AMO. Yes, there is the note; and all the parts, if I misthink not.

I will read the ditty to your beauties here; but first I am to make you familiar with the occasion, which presents itself thus.

Upon a time, going to take my leave of the emperor, and kiss his great hands, there being then present the kings of France and Arragon, the dukes of Savoy, Florence, Orleans, Bourbon, Brunswick, the Landgrave, Count Palatine; all which had severally feasted me; besides infinite more of inferior persons, as counts and others: it was my chance (the emperor detained by some exorbitant affair) to wait him the fifth part of an hour, or much near it. In which time, retiring myself into a bay-window, the beauteous lady Annabel, niece to the empress, and sister to the king of Arragon, who having never before eyed me, but only heard the common report of my virtue, learning, and travel, fell into that extremity of pa.s.sion for my love, that she there immediately swooned: physicians were sent for, she had to her chamber, so to her bed; where, languis.h.i.+ng some few days, after many times calling upon me, with my name in her lips, she expired. As that (I must mourningly say) is the only fault of my fortune, that, as it hath ever been my hap to be sued to, by all ladies and beauties, where I have come; so I never yet sojourn'd or rested in that place or part of the world, where some high-born, admirable, fair feature died not for my love.

MER. O, the sweet power of travel!--Are you guilty of this, Cupid?

CUP. No, Mercury; and that his page Cos knows, if he were here present to be sworn.

PHI. But how doth this draw on the ditty, sir?

MER. O, she is too quick with him; he hath not devised that yet.

AMO. Marry, some hour before she departed, she bequeath'd to me this glove: which golden legacy, the emperor himself took care to send after me, in six coaches, cover'd all with black-velvet, attended by the state of his empire; all which he freely presented me with: and I reciprocally (out of the same bounty) gave to the lords that brought it: only reserving the gift of the deceased lady, upon which I composed this ode, and set it to my most affected instrument, the lyra.

Thou more then most sweet glove, Unto my more sweet love, Suffer me to store with kisses This empty lodging, that now misses The pure rosy hand, that wear thee, Whiter than the kid that bare thee: Thou art soft, but that was softer; Cupid's self hath kiss'd it ofter Than e'er he did his mother's doves.

Supposing her the queen of loves That was thy mistress, BEST OF GLOVES.

MER. Blasphemy, blasphemy, Cupid!

CUP. I'll revenge it time enough, Hermes.

PHI. Good Amorphus, let's hear it sung.

AMO. I care not to admit that, since it pleaseth Philautia to request it.

HED. Here, sir.

AMO. Nay, play it, I pray you; you do well, you do well.

[HE SINGS IT.]--How like you it, sir?

HED. Very well, in troth.

AMO. But very well! O, you are a mere mammothrept in judgment, then. Why, do not observe how excellently the ditty is affected in every place? that I do not marry a word of short quant.i.ty to a long note? nor an ascending syllable to a descending tone?

Besides, upon the word "best" there, you see how I do enter with an odd minum, and drive it through the brief; which no intelligent musician, I know, but will affirm to be very rare, extraordinary, and pleasing.

MER. And yet not fit to lament the death of a lady, for all this.

CUP. Tut, here be they will swallow anything.

PHA. Pray you, let me have a copy of it, Amorphus.

PHI. And me too; in troth I like it exceedingly.

AMO. I have denied it to princes; nevertheless to you, the true female twins of perfection, I am won to depart withal.

HED. I hope, I shall have my Honour's copy.

PHA. You are Ambitious in that, Hedon.

RE-ENTER ANAIDES.

AMO. How now, Anaides! what is it hath conjured up this distemperature in the circle of your face?

ANA. Why, what have you to do? A pox upon your filthy travelling face! hold your tongue.

HED. Nay, dost hear, Mischief?

ANA. Away, musk-cat!

AMO. I say to thee thou art rude, debauch'd, impudent, coa.r.s.e, unpolish'd, a frapler, and base.

HED. Heart of my father, what a strange alteration has half a year's haunting of ordinaries wrought in this fellow! that came with a tufftaffata jerkin to town but the other day, and a pair of pennyless hose, and now he is turn'd Hercules, he wants but a club.

ANA. Sir, you with the pencil on your chin; I will garter my hose with your guts, and that shall be all. [EXIT.]

MER. 'Slid, what rare fireworks be here? flash, flash.

PHA. What is the matter Hedon? can you tell?

HED. Nothing, but that he lacks crowns, and thinks we'll lend him some to be friends.

RE-ENTER ASOTUS AND MORIA, WITH MORUS.

ASO. Come sweet lady, in good truth I'll have it, you shall not deny me. Morus, persuade your aunt I may have her picture, by any means.

MORUS. Yea, sir: good aunt now, let him have it; he will use me the better; if you love me do, good aunt.

MOR. Well, tell him he shall have it.

MORUS. Master, you shall have it, she says.

ASO. Shall I? thank her, good page.

CUP. What, has he entertained the fool?

MER. Ay, he'll wait close, you shall see, though the beggar hang off a while.

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Cynthia's Revels Part 17 summary

You're reading Cynthia's Revels. This manga has been translated by Updating. Author(s): Ben Jonson. Already has 711 views.

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