Every Man out of His Humour Part 3

MIT. Asper, (I urge it as your friend,) take heed, The days are dangerous, full of exception, And men are grown impatient of reproof.

ASP. Ha, ha!

You might as well have told me, yond' is heaven, This earth, these men, and all had moved alike. -- Do not I know the time's condition?

Yes, Mitis, and their souls; and who they be That either will or can except against me.

None but a sort of fools, so sick in taste, That they contemn all physic of the mind, And like gall'd camels, kick at every touch.

Good men, and virtuous spirits, that loath their vices, Will cherish my free labours, love my lines, And with the fervour of their shining grace Make my brain fruitful, to bring forth more objects, Worthy their serious and intentive eyes.

But why enforce I this? as fainting? no.

If any here chance to behold himself, Let him not dare to challenge me of wrong; For, if he shame to have his follies known, First he should shame to act 'em: my strict hand Was made to seize on vice, and with a gripe Squeeze out the humour of such spongy souls, As lick up every idle vanity.

COR. Why, this is right furor poeticus!

Kind gentlemen, we hope your patience Will yet conceive the best, or entertain This supposition, that a madman speaks.

ASP. What, are you ready there? Mitis, sit down, And my Cordatus. Sound ho! and begin.

I leave you two, as censors, to sit here: Observe what I present, and liberally Speak your opinions upon every scene, As it shall pa.s.s the view of these spectators.

Nay, now y'are tedious, sirs; for shame begin.

And, Mitis, note me; if in all this front You can espy a gallant of this mark, Who, to be thought one of the judicious, Sits with his arms thus wreath'd, his hat pull'd here, Cries mew, and nods, then shakes his empty head, Will shew more several motions in his face Than the new London, Rome, or Niniveh, And, now and then, breaks a dry biscuit jest, Which, that it may more easily be chew'd, He steeps in his own laughter.

COR. Why, will that Make it be sooner swallowed?

ASP. O, a.s.sure you.

Or if it did not, yet as Horace sings, Mean cates are welcome still to hungry guests.

COR. 'Tis true; but why should we observe them, Asper?

ASP. O, I would know 'em; for in such a.s.semblies They are more infectious than the pestilence: And therefore I would give them pills to purge, And make them fit for fair societies.

How monstrous and detested is't to see A fellow that has neither art nor brain, Sit like an Aristarchus, or start a.s.s, Taking men's lines with a tobacco face, In snuff still spitting, using his wry'd looks, In nature of a vice, to wrest and turn The good aspect of those that shall sit near him, From what they do behold! O, 'tis most vile.

MIT. Nay, Asper.

ASP. Peace, Mitis, I do know your thought; You'll say, your guests here will except at this: Pish! you are too timorous, and full of doubt.

Then he, a patient, shall reject all physic, 'Cause the physician tells him, you are sick: Or, if I say, that he is vicious, You will not hear of virtue. Come, you are fond.

Shall I be so extravagant, to think, That happy judgments, and composed spirits, Will challenge me for taxing such as these?

I am ashamed.

COR. Nay, but good, pardon us; We must not bear this peremptory sail, But use our best endeavours how to please.

ASP. Why, therein I commend your careful thoughts, And I will mix with you in industry To please: but whom? attentive auditors, Such as will join their profit with their pleasure, And come to feed their understanding parts: For these I'll prodigally spread myself, And speak away my spirit into air; For these, I'll melt my brain into invention, Coin new conceits, and hang my richest words As polish'd jewels in their bounteous ears?

But stay, I lose myself, and wrong their patience: If I dwell here, they'll not begin, I see.

Friends, sit you still, and entertain this troop With some familiar and by-conference, I'll hast them sound. Now, gentlemen, I go To turn an actor, and a humorist, Where, ere I do resume my present person, We hope to make the circles of your eyes Flow with distilled laughter: if we fail, We must impute it to this only chance, Art hath an enemy call'd ignorance.

[EXIT.

COR. How do you like his spirit, Mitis?

MIT. I should like it much better, if he were less confident.

COR. Why, do you suspect his merit?

MIT. No; but I fear this will procure him much envy.

COR. O, that sets the stronger seal on his desert: if he had no enemies, I should esteem his fortunes most wretched at this instant.

MIT. You have seen his play, Cordatus: pray you, how is it?

COR. Faith, sir, I must refrain to judge; only this I can say of it, 'tis strange, and of a particular kind by itself, somewhat like 'Vetus Comoedia'; a work that hath bounteously pleased me; how it will answer the general expectation, I know not.

MIT. Does he observe all the laws of comedy in it?

COR. What laws mean you?

MIT. Why, the equal division of it into acts and scenes, according to the Terentian manner; his true number of actors; the furnishing of the scene with Grex or Chorus, and that the whole argument fall within compa.s.s of a day's business.

COR. O no, these are too nice observations.

MIT. They are such as must be received, by your favour, or it cannot be authentic.

COR. Troth, I can discern no such necessity.

MIT. No!

COR. No, I a.s.sure you, signior. If those laws you speak of had been delivered us 'ab initio', and in their present virtue and perfection, there had been some reason of obeying their powers; but 'tis extant, that that which we call 'Comoedia', was at first nothing but a simple and continued song, sung by one only person, till Susario invented a second; after him, Epicharmus a third; Phormus and Chionides devised to have four actors, with a prologue and chorus; to which Cratinus, long after, added a fifth and sixth: Eupolis, more; Aristophanes, more than they; every man in the dignity of his spirit and judgment supplied something. And, though that in him this kind of poem appeared absolute, and fully perfect, yet how is the face of it changed since, in Menander, Philemon, Cecilius, Plautus, and the rest! who have utterly excluded the chorus, altered the property of the persons, their names, and natures, and augmented it with all liberty, according to the elegancy and disposition of those times wherein they wrote. I see not then, but we should enjoy the same license, or free power to ill.u.s.trate and heighten our invention, as they did; and not be tied to those strict and regular forms which the niceness of a few, who are nothing but form, would thrust upon us.

MIT. Well, we will not dispute of this now; but what's his scene?

COR. Marry, 'Insula Fortunata', sir.

MIT. O, the Fortunate Island: ma.s.s, he has bound himself to a strict law there.

COR. Why so?

MIT. He cannot lightly alter the scene, without crossing the seas.

COR. He needs not, having a whole island to run through, I think.

MIT. No! how comes it then, that in some one play we see so many seas, countries, and kingdoms, pa.s.sed over with such admirable dexterity?

COR. O, that but shews how well the authors can travel in their vocation, and outrun the apprehension of their auditory. But, leaving this, I would they would begin at once: this protraction is able to sour the best-settled patience in the theatre.

[THE THIRD SOUNDING.

MIT. They have answered your wish, sir; they sound.

COR. O, here comes the Prologue.

[ENTER PROLOGUE.

Now, sir, if you had staid a little longer, I meant to have spoke your prologue for you i'faith.

PROL. Marry, with all my heart, sir, you shall do it yet, and I thank you.

[GOING.

COR. Nay, nay, stay, stay; hear you?