Chapter VI: Act V: Scene I.83 (1)

[_Enter_] SAMIAS _and_ DARES.

_Samias._ Eumenides hath told such strange tales as I may well wonder
at them, but never believe them.

_Dar._ The other old man, what a sad speech used he, that caused us
almost all to weep. (5) Cynthia is so desirous to know the experiment
of her own virtue, and so willing to ease Endymion’s hard fortune,
that she no sooner heard the discourse but she made herself in a
readiness to try the event. 10

_Sam._ We will also see the event. But whist! here cometh Cynthia
with all her train. Let us sneak in amongst them.

_Enter_ CYNTHIA, FLOSCULA, SEMELE, [EUMENIDES,] PANELION, _etc._

_Cynth._ Eumenides, it cannot sink into my head that I should be
signified by that sacred (15) fountain, for many things are there in
the world to which those words may be applied.

_Eum._ Good madam, vouchsafe but to try; else shall I think myself
most unhappy that I asked not my sweet mistress. 20

_Cynth._ Will you not yet tell me her name?

_Eum._ Pardon me, good madam, for if Endymion awake, he shall; myself
have sworn never to reveal it.

_Cynth._ Well, let us to Endymion. I will (25) not be so stately,
good Endymion, not to stoop to do thee good; and if thy liberty
consist in a kiss from me, thou shalt have it; and although my mouth
hath been heretofore as untouched as my thoughts, yet now to recover
thy life, (30) though to restore thy youth it be impossible, I
will do that to Endymion which yet never mortal man could boast of
heretofore, nor shall ever hope for hereafter. _She kisseth him._

_Eum._ Madam, he beginneth to stir. 35

_Cynth._ Soft, Eumenides; stand still.

_Eum._ Ah, I see his eyes almost open.

_Cynth._ I command thee once again, stir not. I will stand behind him.

_Pan._ What do I see? Endymion almost (40) awake?

_Eum._ Endymion, Endymion, art thou deaf or dumb, or hath this long
sleep taken away thy memory? Ah, my sweet Endymion, seest thou not
Eumenides, thy faithful friend, thy faithful (45) Eumenides, who for
thy safety hath been careless of his own content? Speak, Endymion!
Endymion! Endymion!

_End._ Endymion? I call to mind such a name. 50

_Eum._ Hast thou forgotten thyself, Endymion? Then do I not marvel
thou rememb’rest not thy friend. I tell thee thou art Endymion, and I
Eumenides. Behold also Cynthia, by whose favour thou art awaked, and
by whose (55) virtue thou shalt continue thy natural course.

_Cynth._ Endymion, speak, sweet Endymion! Knowest thou not Cynthia?

_End._ O heavens, whom do I behold? Fair Cynthia, divine Cynthia? 60

_Cynth._ I am Cynthia, and thou Endymion.

_End._ “Endymion”! What do I hear[84]? What, a gray beard, hollow
eyes, withered body, decayed limbs,—and all in one night?

_Eum._ One night! Thou hast here slept (65) forty years,—by what
enchantress as yet it is not known,—and behold, the twig to which
thou laid’st thy head is now become a tree. Callest thou not
Eumenides to remembrance?

_End._ Thy name I do remember by the (70) sound, but thy favour[85] I
do not yet call to mind; only divine Cynthia, to whom time, fortune,
destiny, and death are subject, I see and remember, and in all
humility I regard and reverence. 75

_Cynth._ You have good cause to remember Eumenides, who hath for thy
safety forsaken his own solace.

_End._ Am I that Endymion who was wont in court to lead my life, and
in justs, tourneys, (80) and arms, to exercise my youth? Am I that
Endymion?

_Eum._ Thou art that Endymion, and I Eumenides: wilt thou not yet
call me to remembrance? 85

_End._ Ah, sweet Eumenides, I now perceive thou art he, and that
myself have the name of Endymion; but that this should be my body
I doubt, for how could my curled locks be turned to gray hairs and
my strong body to a dying (90) weakness, having waxed old, and not
knowing it.

_Cynth._ Well, Endymion, arise. [_Endymion, trying to rise, sinks
back._] A while sit down, for that thy limbs are stiff and not able
to stay (95) thee, and tell what hast thou seen in thy sleep all
this while,—what dreams, visions, thoughts, and fortunes; for it is
impossible but in so long time thou shouldst see things strange.

_End._ Fair Cynthia, I will rehearse what (100) I have seen, humbly
desiring that when I exceed in length, you give me warning, that
I may end; for to utter all I have to speak would be troublesome,
although haply the strangeness may somewhat abate the tediousness. 105

_Cynth._ Well, Endymion, begin.

_End._ Methought I saw a lady passing fair, but very mischievous,
who in the one hand carried a knife with which she offered to cut
my throat, and in the other a looking-glass, (110) wherein seeing
how ill anger became ladies, she refrained from intended violence.
She was accompanied with other damsels, one of which, with a stern
countenance, and as it were with a settled malice engraven in her
eyes, (115) provoked her to execute mischief; another, with visage
sad, and constant only in sorrow, with her arms crossed, and watery
eyes, seemed to lament my fortune, but durst not offer to prevent the
force. I started in my sleep, (120) feeling my very veins to swell
and my sinews to stretch with fear, and such a cold sweat bedewed all
my body that death itself could not be so terrible as the vision.

_Cynth._ A strange sight! Gyptes, at our (125) better leisure, shall
expound it.

_End._ After long debating with herself, mercy overcame anger, and
there appeared in her heavenly face such a divine majesty mingled
with a sweet mildness that I was ravished (130) with the sight above
measure, and wished that I might have enjoyed the sight without end:
and so she departed with the other ladies, of which the one retained
still an unmovable cruelty, the other a constant pity. 135

_Cynth._ Poor Endymion, how wast thou affrighted! What else?

_End._ After her, immediately appeared an aged man with a beard as
white as snow, carrying in his hand a book with three leaves, 140
and speaking, as I remember, these words: “Endymion, receive this
book with three leaves, in which are contained counsels, policies,
and pictures,” and with that he offered me the book, which I
rejected; wherewith, (145) moved with a disdainful pity, he rent the
first leaf in a thousand shivers. The second time he offered it,
which I refused also; at which, bending his brows, and pitching his
eyes fast to the ground, as though they were fixed (150) to the earth
and not again to be removed, then suddenly casting them up to the
heavens, he tore in a rage the second leaf, and offered the book only
with one leaf. I know not whether fear to offend or desire to know
some (155) strange thing moved me: I took the book, and so the old
man vanished.

_Cynth._ What didst thou imagine was in the last leaf?

_End._ There portray’d to life, with a cold (160) quaking in every
joint, I beheld many wolves barking at thee, Cynthia, who having
ground their teeth to bite, did with striving bleed themselves to
death. There might I see Ingratitude with an hundred eyes gazing
for benefits, (165) and with a thousand teeth gnawing on the bowels
wherein she was bred; Treachery stood all clothed in white, with a
smiling countenance, but both her hands bathed in blood; Envy with
a pale and meagre face (whose body (170) was so lean that one might
tell all her bones, and whose garment was so tatter’d that it was
easy to number every thread) stood shooting at stars, whose darts
fell down again on her own face. There might I behold drones or 175
beetles—I know not how to term them—creeping under the wings of a
princely eagle, who, being carried into her nest, sought there to
suck that vein that would have killed the eagle. I mused that things
so base should (180) attempt a fact so barbarous, or durst imagine a
thing so bloody. And many other things, madam, the repetition whereof
may at your better leisure seem more pleasing, for bees surfeit
sometimes with honey, and the gods are (185) glutted with harmony,
and your highness may be dulled with delight.

_Cynth._ I am content to be dieted; therefore, let us in. Eumenides,
see that Endymion be well tended, lest either eating immoderately or
(190) sleeping again too long, he fall into a deadly surfeit or into
his former sleep. See this also be proclaimed: that whosoever will
discover this practice shall have of Cynthia infinite thanks and no
small rewards. 195

_Exeunt_ [_all except_ ENDYMION, EUMENIDES, FLOSCULA _and_ SEMELE.]

_Flosc._ Ah, Endymion, none so joyful as Floscula of thy restoring.

_Eum._ Yes, Floscula, let Eumenides be somewhat gladder, and do not
that wrong to the settled friendship of a man as to compare it (200)
with the light affection of a woman. Ah, my dear friend Endymion,
suffer me to die with gazing at thee.

_End._ Eumenides, thy friendship is immortal and not to be conceived;
and thy good (205) will, Floscula, better than I have deserved; but
let us all wait on Cynthia. I marvel Semele speaketh not a word.

_Eum._ Because if she do, she loseth her tongue. 210

_End._ But how prospereth your love?

_Eum._ I never yet spake word since your sleep.

_End._ I doubt not but your affection is old and your appetite
cold. 215

_Eum._ No, Endymion, thine hath made it stronger, and now are my
sparks grown to flames and my fancies almost to frenzies: but let us
follow, and within we will debate all this matter at large.
_Exeunt._ 220

SCENE II.[86]

[_Enter_] Sir TOPHAS _and_ EPITON.

_Top._ Epi, Love hath justled my liberty from the wall, and taken the
upper hand of my reason.

_Epi._ Let me then trip up the heels of your affection and thrust
your good will into the (5) gutter.

_Top._ No, Epi, Love is a lord of misrule and keepeth Christmas in my
corps.

_Epi._ No doubt there is good cheer: what dishes of delight doth his
lordship feast you (10) withal?

_Top._ First, with a great platter of plum porridge of pleasure,
wherein is stewed the mutton of distrust.

_Epi._ Excellent love-pap.[87] 15

_Top._ Then cometh a pie of patience, a hen of honey, a goose of
gall, a capon of care, and many other viands, some sweet and some
sour, which proveth love to be, as it was said of in old years,
_Dulce venenum_. 20

_Epi._ A brave banquet!

_Top._ But, Epi, I pray thee feel on my chin; something pricketh me.
What dost thou feel or see?

_Epi._ There are three or four little hairs. 25

_Top._ I pray thee call it my beard. How shall I be troubled when
this young spring[88] shall grow to a great wood!

_Epi._ Oh, sir, your chin is but a quiller[89] yet; you will be most
majestical when it is full-fledged. (30) But I marvel that you love
Dipsas, that old crone.

_Top. Agnosco veteris vestigia flammæ_[90]; I love the smoke of an
old fire.

_Epi._ Why she is so cold that no fire can (35) thaw her thoughts.

_Top._ It is an old goose, Epi, that will eat no oats; old kine will
kick, old rats gnaw cheese, and old sacks will have much patching. I
prefer an old coney before a rabbit-sucker,[91] (40) and an ancient
hen before a young chicken-peeper.

_Epi._ [_Aside._] _Argumentum ab antiquitate_; my master loveth
antique work.

_Top._ Give me a pippin that is withered (45) like an old wife!

_Epi._ Good, sir.

_Top._ Then,—_a contrario sequitur argumentum_,—give me a wife that
looks like an old pippin. 50

_Epi._ [_Aside._] Nothing hath made my master a fool but flat
scholarship.

_Top._ Knowest thou not that old wine is best?

_Epi._ Yes.

_Top._ And thou knowest that like will to[92] (55) like?

_Epi._ Ay.

_Top._ And thou knowest that Venus loved the best wine?

_Epi._ So. 60

_Top._ Then I conclude that Venus was an old woman in an old cup of
wine, for _est Venus in vinis, ignis in igne fuit_.[93]

_Epi. O lepidum caput._[94] O madcap master! You were worthy to win
Dipsas, were she as (65) old again, for in your love you have worn
the nap of your wit quite off and made it threadbare. But soft, who
comes here?

[_Enter_ SAMIAS _and_ DARES.]

_Top._ My solicitors.

_Sam._ All hail, Sir Tophas; how feel you (70) yourself?

_Top._ Stately in every joint, which the common people term
stiffness. Doth Dipsas stoop? Will she yield? Will she bend?

_Dar._ Oh, sir, as much as you would wish, (75) for her chin almost
toucheth her knees.

_Epi._ Master, she is bent, I warrant you.

_Top._ What conditions doth she ask?

_Sam._ She hath vowed she will never love any that hath not a tooth
in his head less than (80) she.

_Top._ How many hath she?

_Dar._ One.

_Epi._ That goeth hard, master, for then you must have none. 85

_Top._ A small request, and agreeable to the gravity of her years.
What should a wise man do with his mouth full of bones like a
charnel-house? The turtle true hath ne’er a tooth.

_Sam._ [_Aside._] Thy master is in a notable (90) vein, that will
lose his teeth to be like a turtle.

_Epi._ [_Aside._] Let him lose his tongue, too; I care not.

_Dar._ Nay, you must also have no nails, for she long since hath cast
hers. 95

_Top._ That I yield to. What a quiet life shall Dipsas and I lead
when we can neither bite nor scratch! You may see, youths, how age
provides for peace.

_Sam._ [_Aside._] How shall we do to make (100) him leave his love,
for we never spake to her?

_Dar._ [_Aside._] Let me alone. [_To_ Sir TOPHAS.] She is a notable
witch, and hath turned her maid Bagoa to an aspen tree, for bewraying
her secrets. 105

_Top._ I honour her for her cunning, for now when I am weary of
walking on two legs, what a pleasure may she do me to turn me to some
goodly ass, and help me to four.

_Dar._ Nay, then I must tell you the (110) truth. Her husband, Geron,
is come home, who this fifty years hath had her to wife.

_Top._ What do I hear? Hath she an husband? Go to the sexton and tell
him Desire is dead, and will him to dig his grave. O (115) heavens,
an husband! What death is agreeable to my fortune?

_Sam._ Be not desperate, and we will help you to find a young lady.

_Top._ I love no grissels[95]; they are so brittle (120) they will
crack like glass, or so dainty that if they be touched they are
straight of the fashion of wax; _animus majoribus instat_.[96] I
desire old matrons. What a sight would it be to embrace one whose
hair were as orient as (125) the pearl, whose teeth shall be so pure
a watchet[97] that they shall stain the truest turquoise, whose nose
shall throw more beams from it than the fiery carbuncle, whose eyes
shall be environ’d about with redness exceeding (130) the deepest
coral, and whose lips might compare with silver for the paleness!
Such a one if you can help me to, I will by piecemeal curtail my
affections towards Dipsas, and walk my swelling thoughts till they be
cold. 135

_Epi._ Wisely provided. How say you, my friends, will you angle for
my master’s cause?

_Sam._ Most willingly.

_Dar._ If we speed him not shortly, I will burn my cap. We will serve
him of the spades, (140) and dig an old wife out of the grave that
shall be answerable to his gravity.

_Top._ Youths, adieu; he that bringeth me first news, shall possess
mine inheritance. [_Exit_ Sir TOPHAS.]

_Dar._ What, is thy master landed? 145

_Epi._ Know you not that my master is _liber tenens_?

_Sam._ What ’s that?

_Epi._ A freeholder. But I will after him.

_Sam._ And we to hear what news of Endymion (150) for the conclusion.
_Exeunt._

SCENE III.[98]

[_Enter_] PANELION _and_ ZONTES.

_Pan._ Who would have thought that Tellus, being so fair by nature,
so honourable by birth, so wise by education, would have entered into
a mischief to the gods so odious, to men so detestable, and to her
friend so malicious. 5

_Zon._ If Bagoa had not bewrayed it, how then should it have come to
light? But we see that gold and fair words are of force to corrupt
the strongest men, and therefore able to work silly women like wax. 10

_Pan._ I marvel what Cynthia will determine in this cause.

_Zon._ I fear, as in all causes:—hear of it in justice, and then
judge of it in mercy; for how can it be that she that is unwilling to
punish (15) her deadliest foes with disgrace, will revenge injuries
of her train with death.

_Pan._ That old witch, Dipsas, in a rage, having understood her
practice to be discovered, turned poor Bagoa to an aspen tree. But
let (20) us make haste and bring Tellus before Cynthia, for she was
coming out after us.

_Zon._ Let us go. _Exeunt._

[_Enter_,] CYNTHIA, SEMELE, FLOSCULA, DIPSAS, ENDYMION, EUMENIDES, [GERON, PYTHAGORAS, GYPTES, _and_ SIR TOPHAS].

_Cynth._ Dipsas, thy years are not so many as thy vices, yet more
in number than commonly (25) nature doth afford or justice should
permit. Hast thou almost these fifty years practised that detested
wickedness of witchcraft? Wast thou, so simple as for to know the
nature of simples, of all creatures to be most sinful? Thou hast 30
threat’ned to turn my course awry and alter by thy damnable art the
government that I now possess by the eternal gods; but know thou,
Dipsas, and let all the enchanters know, that Cynthia, being placed
for light on earth, is also (35) protected by the powers of heaven.
Breathe out thou mayest words; gather thou mayest herbs; find out
thou mayest stones agreeable to thine art; yet of no force to appal
my heart, in which courage is so rooted, and constant (40) persuasion
of the mercy of the gods so grounded, that all thy witchcraft I
esteem as weak as the world doth thy case wretched. This noble
gentleman, Geron, once thy husband but now thy mortal hate, didst
thou procure to live in (45) a desert, almost desperate; Endymion,
the flower of my court and the hope of succeeding time, hast thou
bewitched by art, before thou wouldst suffer him to flourish by
nature.

_Dipsas._ Madam, things past may be repented, (50) not recalled:
there is nothing so wicked that I have not done, nor anything so
wished for as death; yet among all the things that I committed, there
is nothing so much tormenteth my rented and ransack’d thoughts as
that in (55) the prime of my husband’s youth I divorced him by my
devilish art; for which if to die might be amends, I would not live
till to-morrow; if to live and still be more miserable would better
content him, I would wish of all creatures to (60) be oldest and
ugliest.

_Geron._ Dipsas, thou hast made this difference between me and
Endymion, that being both young, thou hast caused me to wake in
melancholy, losing the joys of my youth, and him (65) to sleep, not
rememb’ring youth.

_Cynth._ Stay, here cometh Tellus; we shall now know all.

[_Re-enter_ PANELION _and_ ZONTES, _with_ CORSITES _and_ TELLUS.]

_Cors._ I would to Cynthia thou couldst make as good an excuse in
truth as to me thou hast (70) done by wit.

_Tellus._ Truth shall be mine answer, and therefore I will not study
for an excuse.

_Cynth._ Is it possible, Tellus, that so few years should harbour so
many mischiefs? Thy (75) swelling pride have I borne, because it is
a thing that beauty maketh blameless, which the more it exceedeth
fairness in measure, the more it stretcheth itself in disdain. Thy
devices against Corsites I smile at, for that wits, the sharper 80
they are, the shrewder[99] they are; but this unacquainted[100] and
most unnatural practice with a vile enchantress against so noble a
gentleman as Endymion I abhor as a thing most malicious, and will
revenge as a deed most monstrous. (85) And as for you, Dipsas, I will
send you into the desert amongst wild beasts, and try whether you can
cast lions, tigers, boars, and bears into as dead a sleep as you did
Endymion, or turn them to trees, as you have done Bagoa. But tell me,
(90) Tellus, what was the cause of this cruel part, far unfitting thy
sex, in which nothing should be but simpleness, and much disagreeing
from thy face, in which nothing seemed to be but softness. 95

_Tellus._ Divine Cynthia, by whom I receive my life and am content to
end it, I can neither excuse my fault without lying, nor confess it
without shame; yet were it possible that in so heavenly thoughts as
yours there could fall (100) such earthly motions as mine, I would
then hope, if not to be pardoned without extreme punishment, yet to
be heard without great marvel.

_Cynth._ Say on, Tellus; I cannot imagine any thing that can colour
such a cruelty. 105

_Tellus._ Endymion, that Endymion, in the prime of his youth, so
ravish’d my heart with love, that to obtain my desires I could not
find means, nor to resist them reason. What was she that favoured not
Endymion, being (110) young, wise, honourable, and virtuous; besides,
what metal was she made of (be she mortal) that is not affected with
the spice, nay, infected with the poison of that not-to-be-expressed
yet always-to-be-felt love, which breaketh the (115) brains and
never bruiseth the brow, consumeth the heart and never toucheth the
skin, and maketh a deep scar to be seen before any wound at all be
felt.[101] My heart, too tender to withstand such a divine fury,
yielded to (120) love. Madam, I, not without blushing, confess [I]
yielded to love.

_Cynth._ A strange effect of love, to work such an extreme hate. How
say you, Endymion? All this was for love? 125

_End._ I say, madam, then the gods send me a woman’s hate.

_Cynth._ That were as bad, for then by contrary you should never
sleep. But on, Tellus; let us hear the end. 130

_Tellus._ Feeling a continual burning in all my bowels, and a
bursting almost in every vein, I could not smother the inward fire,
but it must needs be perceived by the outward smoke; and by the
flying abroad of divers sparks, (135) divers judged of my scalding
flames. Endymion, as full of art as wit, marking mine eyes, (in which
he might see almost his own,) my sighs, (by which he might ever hear
his name sounded,) aimed at my heart, in which he (140) was assured
his person was imprinted, and by questions wrung out that which
was ready to burst out. When he saw the depth of my affections, he
swore that mine in respect of his were as fumes to Ætna, valleys
to Alps, ants (145) to eagles, and nothing could be compared to my
beauty but his love and eternity. Thus drawing a smooth shoe upon a
crooked foot, he made me believe that (which all of our sex willingly
acknowledge) I was beautiful, and (150) to wonder (which indeed is a
thing miraculous) that any of his sex should be faithful.

_Cynth._ Endymion, how will you clear yourself?

_End._ Madam, by mine own accuser. 155

_Cynth._ Well, Tellus, proceed; but briefly, lest taking delight in
uttering thy love, thou offend us with the length of it.

_Tellus._ I will, madam, quickly make an end of my love and my tale.
Finding continual (160) increase of my tormenting thoughts, and that
the enjoying of my love made deeper wounds than the entering into
it, I could find no means to ease my grief but to follow Endymion,
and continually to have him in the object of (165) mine eyes who had
me slave and subject to his love. But in the moment that I feared
his falsehood and tried myself most in mine affections, I found—ah,
grief, even then I lost myself!—I found him in most melancholy and
desperate (170) terms cursing his stars, his state, the earth, the
heavens, the world, and all for the love of—

_Cynth._ Of whom? Tellus, speak boldly.

_Tellus._ Madam, I dare not utter, for fear to offend. 175

_Cynth._ Speak, I say; who dare take offence, if thou be commanded by
Cynthia?

_Tellus._ For the love of Cynthia.

_Cynth._ For my love, Tellus? That were strange. Endymion, is it
true? 180

_End._ In all things, madam, Tellus doth not speak false.

_Cynth._ What will this breed to in the end? Well, Endymion, we shall
hear all.

_Tellus._ I, seeing my hopes turned to mishaps, (185) and a settled
dissembling towards me, and an immovable desire to Cynthia,
forgetting both myself and my sex, fell into this unnatural hate; for
knowing your virtues, Cynthia, to be immortal, I could not have an
imagination to withdraw (190) him; and finding mine own affections
unquenchable, I could not carry the mind that any else should possess
what I had pursued. For though in majesty, beauty, virtue, and
dignity, I always humbled and yielded myself (195) to Cynthia, yet
in affections I esteemed myself equal with the goddesses, and all
other creatures, according to their states, with myself; for stars to
their bigness have their lights, and the sun hath no more, and little
pitchers, when (200) they can hold no more, are as full as great
vessels that run over. Thus, madam, in all truth have I uttered the
unhappiness of my love and the cause of my hate, yielding wholly to
that divine judgment which never erred for want of (205) wisdom or
envied for too much partiality.

_Cynth._ How say you, my lords, to this matter? But what say you,
Endymion; hath Tellus told truth?

_End._ Madam, in all things but in that (210) she said I loved her
and swore to honour her.

_Cynth._ Was there such a time whenas for my love thou didst vow
thyself to death, and in respect of it loathed thy life? Speak,
Endymion; I will not revenge it with hate. 215

_End._ The time was, madam, and is, and ever shall be, that I
honoured your highness above all the world, but to stretch it so
far as to call it love I never durst. There hath none pleased mine
eye but Cynthia, none delighted (220) mine ears but Cynthia, none
possessed my heart but Cynthia. I have forsaken all other fortunes to
follow Cynthia, and here I stand ready to die, if it please Cynthia.
Such a difference hath the gods set between our states that all must
be (225) duty, loyalty, and reverence; nothing (without it vouchsafe
your highness) be termed love. My unspotted thoughts, my languishing
body, my discontented life, let them obtain by princely favour that
which to challenge they (230) must not presume, only wishing of
impossibilities; with imagination of which I will spend my spirits,
and to myself, that no creature may hear, softly call it love; and if
any urge to utter what I whisper, then will I name it honour. 235
From this sweet contemplation if I be not driven, I shall live of all
men the most content, taking more pleasure in mine aged thoughts than
ever I did in my youthful actions.

_Cynth._ Endymion, this honourable respect (240) of thine shall be
christened love in thee, and my reward for it, favour. Persevere,
Endymion, in loving me, and I account more strength in a true heart
than in a walled city. I have laboured to win all, and study to keep
such as I (245) have won; but those that neither my favour can move
to continue constant, nor my offered benefits get to be faithful, the
gods shall either reduce to truth, or revenge their treacheries with
justice. Endymion, continue as thou hast (250) begun, and thou shalt
find that Cynthia shineth not on thee in vain.

_End._ Your Highness hath blessed me, and your words have again
restored my youth; methinks I feel my joints strong and these 255
mouldy hairs to moult, and all by your virtue, Cynthia, into whose
hands the balance that weigheth time and fortune are committed.

_Cynth._ What, young again! Then it is pity to punish Tellus. 260

_Tellus._ Ah, Endymion, now I know thee and ask pardon of thee;
suffer me still to wish thee well.

_End._ Tellus, Cynthia must command what she will. 265

_Flosc._ Endymion, I rejoice to see thee in thy former estate.

_End._ Good Floscula, to thee also am I in my former affections.

_Eum._ Endymion, the comfort of my life, (270) how am I ravished with
a joy matchless, saving only the enjoying of my mistress.

_Cynth._ Endymion, you must now tell who Eumenides shrineth for his
saint.

_End._ Semele, madam. 275

_Cynth._ Semele, Eumenides? Is it Semele, the very wasp of all women,
whose tongue stingeth as much as an adder’s tooth?

_Eum._ It is Semele, Cynthia, the possessing of whose love must only
prolong my life. 280

_Cynth._ Nay, sith Endymion is restored, we will have all parties
pleased. Semele, are you content after so long trial of his faith,
such rare secrecy, such unspotted love, to take Eumenides? Why speak
you not? Not a word? 285

_End._ Silence, madam, consents; that is most true.

_Cynth._ It is true, Endymion. Eumenides, take Semele; take her, I
say.

_Eum._ Humble thanks, madam; now only (290) do I begin to live.

_Sem._ A hard choice, madam, either to be married if I say nothing,
or to lose my tongue if I speak a word. Yet do I rather choose to
have my tongue cut out than my heart distempered: (295) I will not
have him.

_Cynth._ Speaks the parrot! She shall nod hereafter with signs. Cut
off her tongue, nay her head, that having a servant of honourable
birth, honest manners, and true love, will not be (300) persuaded.

_Sem._ He is no faithful lover, madam, for then would he have asked
his mistress.

_Ger._ Had he not been faithful, he had never seen into the fountain,
and so lost his friend (305) and mistress.

_Eum._ Thine own thoughts, sweet Semele, witness against thy words,
for what hast thou found in my life but love? And as yet what have I
found in my love but bitterness? (310) Madam, pardon Semele, and let
my tongue ransom hers.

_Cynth._ Thy tongue, Eumenides! What, shouldst thou live wanting a
tongue to blaze the beauty of Semele! Well, Semele, I will (315) not
command love, for it cannot be enforced; let me entreat it.

_Sem._ I am content your highness shall command, for now only do I
think Eumenides faithful, that is willing to lose his tongue for my
(320) sake; yet loath, because it should do me better service. Madam,
I accept of Eumenides.

_Cynth._ I thank you, Semele.

_Eum._ Ah, happy Eumenides, that hast a friend so faithful and a
mistress so fair! (325) With what sudden mischief will the gods daunt
this excess of joy? Sweet Semele, I live or die as thou wilt.

_Cynth._ What shall become of Tellus? Tellus, you know Endymion is
vowed to a service (330) from which death cannot remove him. Corsites
casteth still a lovely look towards you. How say you, will you have
your Corsites, and so receive pardon for all that is past?

_Tellus._ Madam, most willingly. 335

_Cynth._ But I cannot tell whether Corsites be agreed.

_Cors._ Ay, madam, more happy to enjoy Tellus than the monarchy of
the world.

_Eum._ Why, she caused you to be pinch’d (340) with fairies.

_Cors._ Ay, but her fairness hath pinched my heart more deeply.

_Cynth._ Well, enjoy thy love. But what have you wrought in the
castle, Tellus? (345)

_Tellus._ Only the picture of Endymion.

_Cynth._ Then so much of Endymion as his picture cometh to, possess
and play withal.

_Cors._ Ah, my sweet Tellus, my love shall be as thy beauty is,
matchless. 350

_Cynth._ Now it resteth, Dipsas, that if thou wilt forswear that
vile art of enchanting, Geron hath promised again to receive thee;
otherwise, if thou be wedded to that wickedness, I must and will see
it punished to the uttermost. 355

_Dipsas._ Madam, I renounce both substance and shadow of that most
horrible and hateful trade, vowing to the gods continual penance, and
to your highness obedience.

_Cynth._ How say you, Geron; will you admit (360) her to your wife?

_Ger._ Ay, with more joy than I did the first day, for nothing could
happen to make me happy but only her forsaking that lewd[102] and
detestable course. Dipsas, I embrace thee. 365

_Dipsas._ And I thee, Geron, to whom I will hereafter recite the
cause of these my first follies.

_Cynth._ Well, Endymion, nothing resteth now but that we depart. Thou
hast my favour; (370) Tellus her friend, Eumenides in Paradise with
his Semele; Geron content with Dipsas.

_Sir Top._ Nay, soft; I cannot handsomely go to bed without Bagoa.

_Cynth._ Well, Sir Tophas, it may be there (375) are more virtues in
me than myself knoweth of, for Endymion I awaked, and at my words he
waxed young. I will try whether I can turn this tree again to thy
true love.

_Top._ Turn her to a true love or false, so (380) she be a wench I
care not.

_Cynth._ Bagoa, Cynthia putteth an end to thy hard fortunes; for,
being turn’d to a tree for revealing a truth, I will recover thee
again, if in my power be the effect of truth. 385

[BAGOA _recovers human shape_.]

_Top._ Bagoa, a bots[103] upon thee!

_Cynth._ Come, my lords, let us in. You, Gyptes and Pythagoras, if
you can content yourselves in our court, to fall from vain follies
of philosophers to such virtues as are here practised, (390) you
shall be entertained according to your deserts, for Cynthia is no
stepmother to strangers.

_Pythag._ I had rather in Cynthia’s court spend ten years than in
Greece one hour.

_Gyptes._ And I choose rather to live by (395) the sight of Cynthia
than by the possessing of all Egypt.

_Cynth._ Then follow.

_Eum._ We all attend. _Exeunt._

THE EPILOGUE

A MAN walking abroad, the Wind and Sun strove for sovereignty, the
one with his blast, the other with his beams. The Wind blew hard; the
man wrapped his garment about him harder: it blust’red more strongly;
he then girt it fast to him. “I cannot prevail,” said the Wind. The
Sun, casting her crystal beams, began to warm the man; he unloosed
his gown: yet it shined brighter; he then put it off. “I yield,” said
the Wind, “for if thou continue shining, he will also put off (5) his
coat.”

Dread Sovereign, the malicious that seek to overthrow us with
threats, do but stiffen our thoughts, and make them sturdier in
storms; but if your highness vouchsafe with your favourable beams to
glance upon us, we shall not only stoop, but with all humility lay
both our hands and hearts at your majesty’s feet. 10

THE OLD WIVES TALE

BY GEORGE PEELE

[DRAMATIS PERSONAE

SACRAPANT.
First Brother, named CALYPHA.
Second Brother, named THELEA.
EUMENIDES.
ERESTUS.
LAMPRISCUS.
HUANEBANGO.
COREBUS.
WIGGEN.
Churchwarden.
Sexton.
Ghost of JACK.
Friar, Harvest-men, Furies, Fiddlers, &c.

DELIA, sister to CALYPHA and THELEA.
VENELIA, betrothed to ERESTUS.
ZANTIPPA, }
CELANTA, } daughters to LAMPRISCUS.
Hostess.

ANTIC.
FROLIC.
FANTASTIC.
CLUNCH, a smith.
MADGE, his wife.]

_Enter_ ANTIC, FROLIC, _and_ FANTASTIC.

_Ant._ How now, fellow Frolic![104] What, all amort?[105] Doth this
sadness become thy madness? What though we have lost our way in
the woods, yet never hang the head as though thou hadst no hope to
live till to-morrow; for (5) Fantastic and I will warrant thy life
to-night for twenty in the hundred.

_Fro._ Antic and Fantastic, as I am frolic franion,[106] never in all
my life was I so dead slain. What, to lose our way in the wood, 10
without either fire or candle, so uncomfortable! _O cœlum! O terra! O
Maria!_ O Neptune!

_Fan._ Why makes thou it so strange, seeing Cupid hath led our young
master to the fair lady, and she is the only saint that he hath 15
sworn to serve?

_Fro._ What resteth, then, but we commit him to his wench, and each
of us take his stand up in a tree, and sing out our ill fortune to
the tune of “_O man in desperation_”? 20

_Ant._ Desperately spoken, fellow Frolic, in the dark; but seeing it
falls out thus, let us rehearse the old proverb:

“Three merry men, and three merry men,
And three merry men be we; 25
I in the wood, and thou on the ground,
And Jack sleeps in the tree.”

_Fan._ Hush! a dog in the wood, or a wooden[107] dog! O comfortable
hearing! I had even as lief the chamberlain of the White Horse had 30
called me up to bed.

_Fro._ Either hath this trotting cur gone out of his circuit, or
else are we near some village, which should not be far off, for I
perceive (_Enter_ [CLUNCH] _a smith, with a lantern and candle._) the
glimmering of a glow-worm, a candle, or a (35) cat’s eye, my life for
a halfpenny! In the name of my own father, be thou ox or ass that
appearest, tell us what thou art.

_Smith._ What am I? Why, I am Clunch the smith. What are you? What
make you in (40) my territories at this time of the night?

_Ant._ What do we make, dost thou ask? Why, we make faces for fear;
such as if thy mortal eyes could behold, would make thee water the
long seams of thy side slops,[108] (45) smith.

_Fro._ And, in faith, sir, unless your hospitality do relieve us,
we are like to wander, with a sorrowful heigh-ho, among the owlets
and hobgoblins of the forest. Good Vulcan, for (50) Cupid’s sake
that hath cozened us all, befriend us as thou mayst; and command us
howsoever, wheresoever, whensoever, in whatsoever, for ever and ever.

_Smith._ Well, masters, it seems to me you (55) have lost your way
in the wood; in consideration whereof, if you will go with Clunch to
his cottage, you shall have house-room and a good fire to sit by,
although we have no bedding to put you in. 60

_All._ O blessed smith, O bountiful Clunch!

_Smith._ For your further entertainment, it shall be as it may be, so
and so. _A dog barks_ [_within_].
Hark![109] this is Ball my dog, that bids you all welcome in his own
language. Come, take (65) heed for stumbling on the threshold.—Open
door, Madge; take in guests.

_Enter_ [MADGE, _an_] _old woman_.

_Madge._[110] Welcome, Clunch, and good fellows all, that come with
my good-man. For my good-man’s sake, come on, sit down; here is 70
a piece of cheese, and a pudding of my own making.

_Ant._ Thanks, gammer; a good example for the wives of our town.

_Fro._ Gammer, thou and thy good-man sit (75) lovingly together; we
come to chat, and not to eat.

_Smith._ Well, masters, if you will eat nothing, take away. Come,
what do we to pass away the time? Lay a crab in the fire to roast for
(80) lamb’s-wool.[111] What, shall we have a game at trump[112] or
ruff[112] to drive away the time? How say you?

_Fan._ This smith leads a life as merry as a king with Madge his
wife. Sirrah Frolic, I (85) am sure thou art not without some round
or other; no doubt but Clunch can bear his part.

_Fro._ Else think you me ill brought up; so set to it when you will.
_They sing._

SONG.

Whenas the rye reach to the chin, 90
And chopcherry, chopcherry ripe within,
Strawberries swimming in the cream,
And school-boys playing in the stream;
Then, O, then, O, then, O, my true-love said,
Till that time come again 95
She could not live a maid.

_Ant._ This sport does well; but methinks, gammer, a merry winter’s
tale would drive away the time trimly. Come, I am sure you are not
without a score. (100)

_Fan._ I’faith, gammer, a tale of an hour long were as good as an
hour’s sleep.

_Fro._ Look you, gammer, of the giant and the king’s daughter, and I
know not what. I have seen the day, when I was a little one, 105
you might have drawn me a mile after you with such a discourse.

_Madge._ Well, since you be so importunate, my good-man shall fill
the pot and get him to bed; they that ply their work must keep 110
good hours. One of you go lie with him; he is a clean-skinned man
I tell you, without either spavin or wind-gall: so I am content to
drive away the time with an old wives’ winter’s tale.

_Fan._ No better hay in Devonshire; o’ my (115) word, gammer, I ’ll
be one of your audience.

_Fro._ And I another, that ’s flat.

_Ant._ Then must I to bed with the good-man.—_Bona nox_,
gammer.—Good night, Frolic.

_Smith._ Come on, my lad, thou shalt take (120) thy unnatural rest
with me. _Exit_ ANTIC _and the smith_.

_Fro._ Yet this vantage shall we have of them in the morning, to be
ready at the sight thereof extempore.

_Madge._ Now this bargain, my masters, (125) must I make with you,
that you will say hum and ha to my tale, so shall I know you are
awake.

_Both._ Content, gammer, that will we do.

_Madge._ Once upon a time, there was a (130) king, or a lord, or a
duke, that had a fair daughter, the fairest that ever was, as white
as snow and as red as blood; and once upon a time his daughter was
stolen away; and he sent all his men to seek out his daughter; and he
(135) sent so long, that he sent all his men out of his land.

_Fro._ Who drest his dinner, then?

_Madge._ Nay, either hear my tale, or kiss my tail. 140

_Fan._ Well said! On with your tale, gammer.

_Madge._ O Lord, I quite forgot! There was a conjurer, and this
conjurer could do any thing, and he turned himself into a great
dragon, and carried the king’s daughter away in his (145) mouth to a
castle that he made of stone; and there he kept her I know not how
long, till at last all the king’s men went out so long that her two
brothers went to seek her. O, I forget! She (he, I would say,) turned
a proper[113] (150) young man to a bear in the night, and a man in
the day, and keeps[114] by a cross that parts three several ways; and
he made his lady run mad,—Gods me bones, who comes here?

_Enter the_ Two Brothers.

_Fro._ Soft, gammer, here some come to (155) tell your tale for you.

_Fan._ Let them alone; let us hear what they will say.

_1 Bro._ Upon these chalky cliffs of Albion
We are arrived now with tedious toil; 160
And compassing the wide world round about,
To seek our sister, to seek fair Delia forth,
Yet cannot we so much as hear of her.

_2 Bro._ O fortune cruel, cruel and unkind!
Unkind in that we cannot find our sister, 165
Our sister, hapless in her cruel chance!
Soft! who have we here?

_Enter Senex_ [ERESTUS] _at the cross, stooping to gather_.

_1 Bro._ Now, father, God be your speed! What do you gather there?

_Erest._[115] Hips and haws, and sticks and (170) straws, and things
that I gather on the ground, my son.

_1 Bro._ Hips and haws, and sticks and straws! Why, is that all your
food, father?

_Erest._ Yea, son. 175

_2 Bro._ Father, here is an alms-penny for me; and if I speed in that
I go for, I will give thee as good a gown of grey as ever thou didst
wear.

_1 Bro._ And, father, here is another alms-penny (180) for me; and if
I speed in my journey, I will give thee a palmer’s staff of ivory,
and a scallop-shell of beaten gold.

_Erest._ Was she fair?

_2 Bro._ Ay, the fairest for white, and the (185) purest for red, as
the blood of the deer, or the driven snow.

_Erest._ Then hark well, and mark well, my old spell:

Be not afraid of every stranger;
Start not aside at every danger; 190
Things that seem are not the same;
Blow a blast at every flame;
For when one flame of fire goes out,
Then comes your wishes well about:
If any ask who told you this good, 195
Say, the white bear of England’s wood.

_1 Bro._ Brother, heard you not what the old man said?

“Be not afraid of every stranger;
Start not aside for every danger;
Things that seem are not the same; 200
Blow a blast at every flame;
[For when one flame of fire goes out,
Then comes your wishes well about:]
If any ask who told you this good,
Say, the white bear of England’s wood.” 205

_2 Bro._ Well, if this do us any good,
Well fare the white bear of England’s wood!
_Exeunt_ [_the_ Two Brothers].

_Erest._ Now sit thee here, and tell a heavy tale,
Sad in thy mood, and sober in thy cheer;
Here sit thee now, and to thyself relate 210
The hard mishap of thy most wretched state.
In Thessaly I liv’d in sweet content,
Until that fortune wrought my overthrow;
For there I wedded was unto a dame,
That liv’d in honour, virtue, love, and fame. 215
But Sacrapant, that cursed sorcerer,
Being besotted with my beauteous love,
My dearest love, my true betrothed wife,
Did seek the means to rid me of my life.
But worse than this, he with his chanting spells 220
Did turn me straight unto an ugly bear;
And when the sun doth settle in the west,
Then I begin to don my ugly hide.
And all the day I sit, as now you see.
And speak in riddles, all inspired with rage, 225
Seeming an old and miserable man,
And yet I am in April of my age.
_Enter_ VENELIA _his lady, mad; and goes in again._
See where Venelia, my betrothed love,
Runs madding, all enrag’d, about the woods,
All by his cursed and enchanting spells.— 230
_Enter_ LAMPRISCUS _with a pot of honey._
But here comes Lampriscus, my discontented neighbour. How now,
neighbour! You look toward the ground as well as I; you muse on
something.

_Lamp._ Neighbour, on nothing but on the (235) matter I so often
moved to you. If you do anything for charity, help me; if for
neighbourhood or brotherhood, help me: never was one so cumbered as
is poor Lampriscus; and to begin, I pray receive this pot of honey,
to (240) mend your fare.

_Erest._ Thanks, neighbour, set it down; honey is always welcome to
the bear. And now, neighbour, let me hear the cause
of your coming. 245

_Lamp._ I am, as you know, neighbour, a man unmarried; and lived so
unquietly with my two wives, that I keep every year holy the day
wherein I buried them both: the first was on Saint Andrew’s day, the
other on Saint (250) Luke’s.

_Erest._ And now, neighbour, you of this country say, your custom is
out. But on with your tale, neighbour.

_Lamp._ By my first wife, whose tongue (255) wearied me alive, and
sounded in my ears like the clapper of a great bell, whose talk was
a continual torment to all that dwelt by her or lived nigh her, you
have heard me say I had a handsome daughter. 260

_Erest._ True, neighbour.

_Lamp._ She it is that afflicts me with her continual clamours, and
hangs on me like a bur. Poor she is, and proud she is; as poor as a
sheep new-shorn, and as proud of her hopes (265) as a peacock of her
tail well-grown.

_Erest._ Well said, Lampriscus! You speak it like an Englishman.

_Lamp._ As curst as a wasp, and as froward as a child new-taken from
the mother’s teat; (270) she is to my age as smoke to the eyes or as
vinegar to the teeth.

_Erest._ Holily praised, neighbour. As much for the next.

_Lamp._ By my other wife I had a daughter (275) so hard-favoured, so
foul and ill-faced, that I think a grove full of golden trees, and
the leaves of rubies and diamonds, would not be a dowry answerable to
her deformity.

_Erest._ Well, neighbour, now you have (280) spoke, hear me speak.
Send them to the well for the water of life; there shall they find
their fortunes unlooked for. Neighbour, farewell. _Exit._

_Lamp._ Farewell, and a thousand! And (285) now goeth poor Lampriscus
to put in execution this excellent counsel. _Exit._

_Fro._ Why, this goes round without a fiddling-stick: but, do you
hear, gammer, was this the man that was a bear in the night and a man
(290) in the day?

_Madge._ Ay, this is he; and this man that came to him was a beggar,
and dwelt upon a green. But soft! who comes here? O, these are the
harvest-men; ten to one they sing a (295) song of mowing.

_Enter the_ Harvest-men _a-singing, with this song double repeated._

All ye that lovely lovers be,
Pray you for me.
Lo, here we come a-sowing, a-sowing,
And sow sweet fruits of love; 300
In your sweet hearts well may it prove! _Exeunt._

_Enter_ HUANEBANGO _with his two-hand sword, and_ BOOBY,[116] _the clown._

_Fan._ Gammer, what is he?

_Madge._ O, this is one that is going to the conjurer. Let him alone;
hear what he says.

_Huan._ Now, by Mars and Mercury, (305) Jupiter and Janus, Sol and
Saturnus, Venus and Vesta, Pallas and Proserpina, and by the honour
of my house, Polimackeroeplacidus, it is a wonder to see what this
love will make silly fellows adventure, even in the wane of their 310
wits and infancy of their discretion. Alas, my friend! what fortune
calls thee forth to seek thy fortune among brazen gates, enchanted
towers, fire and brimstone, thunder and lightning? Beauty, I tell
thee, is peerless, and (315) she precious whom thou affectest. Do off
these desires, good countryman; good friend, run away from thyself;
and, so soon as thou canst, forget her, whom none must inherit but he
that can monsters tame, labours achieve, riddles (320) absolve, loose
enchantments, murder magic, and kill conjuring,—and that is the great
and mighty Huanebango.

_Booby._ Hark you, sir, hark you. First know I have here the flurting
feather, and have (325) given the parish the start for the long
stock:[117] now, sir, if it be no more but running through a little
lightning and thunder, and “riddle me, riddle me what ’s this?” I ’ll
have the wench from the conjurer, if he were ten conjurers. 330

_Huan._ I have abandoned the court and honourable company, to do my
devoir against this sore sorcerer and mighty magician: if this lady
be so fair as she is said to be, she is mine, she is mine; _meus,
mea, meum, in contemptum (335) omnium grammaticorum._

_Booby. O falsum Latinum!_
The fair maid is _minum_.
_Cum apurtinantibus gibletis_ and all.

_Huan._ If she be mine, as I assure myself (340) the heavens will
do somewhat to reward my worthiness, she shall be allied to none
of the meanest gods, but be invested in the most famous stock
of Huanebango,—Polimackeroeplacidus my grandfather, my father
Pergopolineo, (345) my mother Dionora de Sardinia, famously descended.

_Booby._ Do you hear, sir? Had not you a cousin that was called
Gusteceridis?

_Huan._ Indeed, I had a cousin that sometime (350) followed the court
infortunately, and his name Bustegusteceridis.

_Cor._ O Lord, I know him well! He is the knight of the neat’s-feet.

_Huan._ O, he loved no capon better! He (355) hath oftentimes
deceived his boy of his dinner; that was his fault, good
Bustegusteceridis.

_Booby._ Come, shall we go along?
[_Enter_ ERESTUS _at the cross._]
Soft! here is an old man at the cross; let us ask him the way
thither.—Ho, you gaffer! (360) I pray you tell where the wise man
the conjurer dwells.

_Huan._ Where that earthly goddess keepeth her abode, the commander
of my thoughts, and fair mistress of my heart. 365

_Erest._ Fair enough, and far enough from thy fingering, son.

_Huan._ I will follow my fortune after mine own fancy, and do
according to mine own discretion. 370

_Erest._ Yet give something to an old man before you go.

_Huan._ Father, methinks a piece of this cake might serve your turn.

_Erest._ Yea, son. 375

_Huan._ Huanebango giveth no cakes for alms; ask of them that give
gifts for poor beggars.—Fair lady, if thou wert once shrined in this
bosom, I would buckler thee haratantara. _Exit._