A Select Collection of Old English Plays Volume Ix Part 85

Was this the care and labour thou hast taken To bring thy foes together to a banquet, To lose thy crown, and be deluded thus!

Well, now I see my cause is desperate, The judgment's pa.s.s'd, sentence irrevocable, Therefore I'll be content and clap my hands, And give a plaudite to their proceedings.

What, shall I leave my hate begun unperfect?

So foully vanquish'd by the spiteful Senses!

Shall I, the emba.s.sadress of G.o.ds and men, That pull'd proud Phoebe from her brightsome sphere, And dark'd Apollo's countenance with a word, Raising at pleasure storms, and winds, and earthquakes, Be overcrow'd, and breathe without revenge?

Yet they forsooth, base slaves, must be preferred, And deck themselves with my right ornaments.

Doth the all-knowing Phoebus see this shame Without redress? will not the heavens help me?

Then shall h.e.l.l do it; my enchanting tongue Can mount the skies, and in a moment fall From the pole arctic to dark Acheron.

I'll make them know mine anger is not spent; Lingua hath power to hurt, and will to do it.

Mendacio, come hither quickly, sirrah.

MEN. Madam.

LIN. Hark, hither in thine ear.

MEN. Why do you whisht[298] thus? here's none to hear you.

LIN. I dare not trust these secrets to the earth, E'er since she brought forth reeds, whose babbling noise Told all the world of Midas' a.s.s's ears.

[_She whispers him in the ear_.] Dost understand me?

MEN. Ay, ay, ay--never fear that--there's a jest indeed-- Pish, pish--madam--do you think me so foolish?--Tut, tut, doubt not.

LIN. Tell her, if she do not--

MEN. Why do you make any question of it?--what a stir is here--I warrant you--presently!

[_Exit_ MENDACIO.

LIN. Well, I'll to supper, and so closely cover The rusty canker of mine iron spite With golden foil of goodly semblances.

But if I do not trounce them--

[_Exit_ LINGUA.

ACTUS QUINTUS, SCAENA PRIMA.

MENDACIO, _with a bottle in his hand_.

MEN. My Lady Lingua is just like one of these lean-witted comedians who, disturbing all to the fifth act, bring down some Mercury or Jupiter in an engine to make all friends: so she, but in a contrary manner, seeing her former plots dispurposed, sends me to an old witch called Acrasia to help to wreak her spite upon the Senses. The old hag, after many an encircled circ.u.mstance, and often naming of the direful Hecate and Demogorgon. gives me this bottle of wine, mingled with such h.e.l.lish drugs and forcible words that, whosoever drinks of it shall be presently possessed with an enraged and mad kind of anger.

SCAENA SECUNDA.

MENDACIO, c.r.a.pULA, APPEt.i.tUS _crying_.

MEN. What's this, c.r.a.pula beating Appet.i.tus out of doors? ha?

CRA. You filthy long crane, you mean slave, will you kill your guests with blowing continual hunger in them? The Senses have overcharged their stomachs already, and you, sirrah, serve them up a fresh appet.i.te with every new dish. They had burst their guts if thou hadst stayed but a thought longer. Begone, or I'll set thee away; begone, ye gnaw-bone, raw-bone rascal![299] [_Beats him_.

MEN. Then my device is clean spoiled. Appet.i.tus should have been as the bowl to present this medicine to the Senses, and now c.r.a.pula hath beaten him out of doors; what shall I do? [_Aside_.]

CRA. Away, sirrah. [_Beats him_.

APP. Well, c.r.a.pula, well; I have deserved better at your hands than so.

I was the man, you know, first brought you into Gustus's service. I lined your guts there, and you use me thus? but grease a fat sow, &c.

CRA. Dost thou talk? Hence, hence; avaunt, cur; avaunt, you dog!

[_Exit_ c.r.a.pULA.

APP. The belching gorbelly[300] hath well-nigh killed me; I am shut out of doors finely. Well, this is my comfort, I may walk now in liberty at my own pleasure.

MEN. Appet.i.tus, Appet.i.tus!

APP. Ah, Mendacio, Mendacio!

MEN. Why, how now, man, how now? how is't? canst not speak?

APP. Faith, I am like a bagpipe, that never sounds but when the belly is full.

MEN. Thou empty, and com'st from a feast?

APP. From a fray. I tell thee, Mendacio, I am now just like the ewe that gave suck to a wolf's whelp; I have nursed up my fellow c.r.a.pula so long, that he's grown strong enough to beat me.

MEN. And whither wilt thou go, now thou art banished out of service?

APP. Faith, I'll travel to some college or other in an university.

MEN. Why so?

APP. Because Appet.i.tus is well-beloved amongst scholars, for there I can dine and sup with them, and rise again as good friends as we sat down.

I'll thither, questionless.

MEN. Hear'st thou? give me thy hand. By this, I love thee: go to, then.

Thou shalt not forsake thy masters thus, I say thou shalt not.

APP. Alas! I am very loth; but how should I help it?

MEN. Why, take this bottle of wine, come on; go thy ways to them again.

APP. Ha, ha, ha! what good will this do?

MEN. This is the Nepenthe that reconciles the G.o.ds. Do but let the Senses taste of it, and fear not, they'll love thee as well as ever they did.

APP. I pray thee, where hadst it?

MEN. My lady gave it me to bring her. Mercury stole it from Hebe for her. Thou knowest there were some jars betwixt her and thy masters, and with this drink she would gladly wash out all the relics of their disagreement. Now, because I love thee, thou shalt have the grace of presenting it to them, and so come in favour again.