SCENE,--GARGAPHIE

INDUCTION.

THE STAGE.

AFTER THE SECOND SOUNDING.

ENTER THREE OF THE CHILDREN, STRUGGLING.

1 CHILD. Pray you away; why, fellows! G.o.ds so, what do you mean?

2 CHILD. Marry, that you shall not speak the prologue sir.

3 CHILD. Why, do you hope to speak it?

2 CHILD. Ay, and I think I have most right to it: I am sure I studied it first.

3 CHILD. That's all one, if the author think I can speak it better.

1 CHILD. I plead possession of the cloak: gentles, your suffrages, I pray you.

[WITHIN.] Why children! are you not ashamed? come in there.

3 CHILD. Slid, I'll play nothing in the play: unless I speak it.

1 CHILD. Why, will you stand to most voices of the gentlemen? let that decide it.

3 CHILD. O, no, sir gallant; you presume to have the start of us there, and that makes you offer so prodigally.

1 CHILD. No, would I were whipped if I had any such thought; try it by lots either.

2 CHILD. Faith, I dare tempt my fortune in a greater venture than this.

3 CHILD. Well said, resolute Jack! I am content too; so we draw first. Make the cuts.

1 CHILD. But will you not s.n.a.t.c.h my cloak while I am stooping?

3 CHILD. No, we scorn treachery.

2 CHILD. Which cut shall speak it?

3 CHILD. The shortest.

1 CHILD. Agreed: draw. [THEY DRAW CUTS.] The shortest is come to the shortest. Fortune was not altogether blind in this. Now, sir, I hope I shall go forward without your envy.

2 CHILD. A spite of all mischievous luck! I was once plucking at the other.

3 CHILD. Stay Jack: 'slid I'll do somewhat now afore I go in, though it be nothing but to revenge myself on the author; since I speak not his prologue, I'll go tell all the argument of his play afore-hand, and so stale his invention to the auditory, before it come forth.

1 CHILD. O, do not so.

2 CHILD. By no means.

3 CHILD. [ADVANCING TO THE FRONT OF THE STAGE.] First, the t.i.tle of his play is "Cynthia's Revels," as any man that hath hope to be saved by his book can witness; the scene, Gargaphie, which I do vehemently suspect for some fustian country; but let that vanish.

Here is the court of Cynthia whither he brings Cupid travelling on foot, resolved to turn page. By the way Cupid meets with Mercury, (as that's a thing to be noted); take any of our play-books without a Cupid or a Mercury in it, and burn it for an heretic in poetry.

--[IN THESE AND THE SUBSEQUENT SPEECHES, AT EVERY BREAK, THE OTHER TWO INTERRUPT, AND ENDEAVOUR TO STOP HIM.] Pray thee, let me alone. Mercury, he in the nature of a conjurer, raises up Echo, who weeps over her love, or daffodil, Narcissus, a little; sings; curses the spring wherein the pretty foolish gentleman melted himself away: and there's an end of her.--Now I am to inform you, that Cupid and Mercury do both become pages. Cupid attends on Philautia, or Self-love, a court lady: Mercury follows Hedon, the Voluptuous, and a courtier; one that ranks himself even with Anaides, or the Impudent, a gallant, and, that's my part; one that keeps Laughter, Gelaia, the daughter of Folly, a wench in boy's attire, to wait on him--These, in the court, meet with Amorphus, or the deformed, a traveller that hath drunk of the fountain, and there tells the wonders of the water. They presently dispatch away their pages with bottles to fetch of it, and themselves go to visit the ladies. But I should have told you--Look, these emmets put me out here--that with this Amorphus, there comes along a citizen's heir, Asotus, or the Prodigal, who, in imitation of the traveller, who hath the Whetstone following him, entertains the Beggar, to be his attendant.--Now, the nymphs who are mistresses to these gallants, are Philautia, Self-love; Phantaste, a light Wittiness; Argurion, Money; and their guardian, mother Moria; or mistress Folly.

1 CHILD. Pray thee, no more.

3 CHILD. There Cupid strikes Money in love with the Prodigal, makes her dote upon him, give him jewels, bracelets, carcanets, etc. All which he most ingeniously departs withal to be made known to the other ladies and gallants; and in the heat of this, increases his train with the Fool to follow him, as well as the Beggar--By this time, your Beggar begins to wait close, who is returned with the rest of his fellow bottlemen.--There they all drink, save Argurion, who is fallen into a sudden apoplexy--

1 CHILD. Stop his mouth.

3 CHILD. And then there's a retired scholar there, you would not wish a thing to be better contemn'd of a society of gallants, than it is; and he applies his service, good gentleman, to the Lady Arete, or Virtue, a poor nymph of Cynthia's train, that's scarce able to buy herself a gown; you shall see her play in a black robe anon: a creature, that, I a.s.sure you, is no less scorn'd than himself. Where am I now? at a stand!

2 CHILD. Come, leave at last, yet.

3 CHILD. O, the night is come ('twas somewhat dark, methought), and Cynthia intends to come forth; that helps it a little yet. All the courtiers must provide for revels; they conclude upon a masque, the device of which is--What, will you ravish me?--that each of these Vices, being to appear before Cynthia, would seem other than indeed they are; and therefore a.s.sume the most neighbouring Virtues as their masking habit--I'd cry a rape, but that you are children.

2 CHILD. Come, we'll have no more of this antic.i.p.ation; to give them the inventory of their cates aforehand, were the discipline of a tavern, and not fitting this presence.

1 CHILD. Tut, this was but to shew us the happiness of his memory.

I thought at first he would have plaid the ignorant critic with everything along as he had gone; I expected some such device.

3 CHILD. O, you shall see me do that rarely; lend me thy cloak.

1 CHILD. Soft sir, you'll speak my prologue in it.

3 CHILD. No, would I might never stir then.

2 CHILD. Lend it him, lend it him:

1 CHILD. Well, you have sworn. [GIVES HIM THE CLOAK.]

3 CHILD. I have. Now, sir; suppose I am one of your genteel auditors, that am come in, having paid my money at the door, with much ado, and here I take my place and sit down: I have my three sorts of tobacco in my pocket, my light by me, and thus I begin.

[AT THE BREAKS HE TAKES HIS TOBACCO.] By this light, I wonder that any man is so mad, to come to see these rascally t.i.ts play here-- They do act like so many wrens or pismires--not the fifth part of a good face amongst them all.--And then their music is abominable --able to stretch a man's ears worse then ten--pillories and their ditties--most lamentable things, like the pitiful fellows that make them--poets. By this vapour, an 'twere not for tobacco-- I think--the very stench of 'em would poison me, I should not dare to come in at their gates--A man were better visit fifteen jails--or a dozen or two of hospitals--than once adventure to come near them. How is't? well?

1 CHILD. Excellent; give me my cloak.

3 CHILD. Stay; you shall see me do another now: but a more sober, or better-gather'd gallant; that is, as it may be thought, some friend, or well-wisher to the house: and here I enter.

1 CHILD. What? upon the stage too?

2 CHILD. Yes; and I step forth like one of the children, and ask you. Would you have a stool sir?

3 CHILD. A stool, boy!