Classic Poem

ACT I. SCENE I.

The Street before Cornelio's House .

Enter ANTONIO and GASPARO .

Ant . Sirrah, this Welshman is in love with my sister Selina, and hath chosen me for his prolocutor.
Gasp . Oh! this love will make us all mad; thou knowest I loved a sister of thine once; but heaven knows where she is: I think she loved me too; dost think she did not? Well, thy father has reason to curse himself, beside some that she and I have.
Ant . Nay, nay, thou'lt fall into passion again, when things are past recovery; 'twas a good wench. — But come, prithee leave to think on her.
Gasp . Nay, I have done. What shall we do?
Ant . Any thing but talk of state matters: thou hast much intelligence in the world, prithee what's the news abroad? I come forth o' purpose to hear some, and this is an age of novelties.
Gasp . News? O, excellent news!
Ant . Prithee, what is't? I long to hear some.
Gasp . There is no news at all.
Ant . Call you that excellent news?
Gasp . Is it not good news, that there is no bad news? The truth is, the news-maker, master Money-lack, is sick of a consumption of the wit.
Ant . The news-maker! why, is there any news-maker?
Gasp . Oh, sir, how should younger brothers have maintained themselves, that have travelled, and have the names of countries and captains without book as perfect as their prayers? ay, and perfecter too, for I think there is more probability of forgetting their prayers, they say them so seldom. I tell you, sir, I have known a gentleman that has spent the best part of a thousand pound while he was prentice to the trade in Holland, and out of three sheets of paper, which was his whole stock, (a pen and ink-horn he borrowed,) he set up shop, and spent a hundred pound a year upon his whore, and found sheets for them both to lie in too. It has been a great profession; marry, most commonly they are soldiers; a peace concluded is a great plague unto them, and if the wars hold, we shall have store of them: oh, they are men worthy of commendations; they speak in print.
Ant . Are they soldiers?
Gasp . 'Faith, so they would be thought, though indeed they are but mongrels, not worthy of that noble attribute; they are indeed bastards, not sons, of war, and true soldiers, whose divine souls I honour; yet they may be called great spirits too, for their valour is invisible: these, I say, will write you a battle in any part of Europe at an hour's warning, and yet never set foot out of a tavern; describe you towns, fortifications, leaders, the strength of the enemies, what confederates, every day's march, — not a soldier shall lose a hair, or have a bullet fly between his arms, but he shall have a page to wait on him in quarto; — nothing destroys them but want of a good memory, for if they escape contradiction they may be chronicled.
Ant . Why, thou art wise enough to be an informer.
Gasp . Ay, marry, now you speak of a trade indeed, the very Atlas of a state-politic, the common-shore of a city; nothing falls amiss unto them, and, if there be no filth in the common-wealth, [they] can live by honesty, and yet be knaves by their privilege: there is not an oath but they will have money for it.
Ant . Oh brave trade!
Gasp . They can eat men alive and digest them; they have their conscience in a string, and can stifle it at their pleasure; the devil's journeymen, set up for themselves, and keep a damnation-house of their own: indeed they seldom prove aldermen, yet they are taken for knights every day o' the week, when they ride post: they have the art of insinuation, and speak writs familiarly; they are agents, as I have heard, for the devil in their lifetime, and if they die in their bed, have this privilege, to be sons of hell by adoption, and take place of serjeants. — Stay, who's here? Thy sister and Infortunio: let's observe.

Enter INFORTUNIO and SELINA .

Infor . I must have other answer, for I must love you.
Sel . Must! but I do not see any necessity that I should love you; I do confess you are a proper man.
Infor . Oh, do not mock, Selina; let not excellence,
Which you are full of, make you proud and scornful.
I am a gentleman; though my outward part
Cannot attract affection, yet some have told me
Nature hath made me what she need not shame;
Yet look into my heart, there you shall see
What you cannot despise, for there you are,
With all your graces waiting on you; there
Love hath made you a throne to sit, and rule
O'er Infortunio, all my thoughts obeying
And honouring you as queen: pass by my outside,
My breast I dare compare with any man.
Sel . But who can see this breast you boast of so?
Infor . Oh! 'tis an easy work; for though it be
Not to be pierced by the dull eye, whose beam
Is spent on outward shapes, there is a way
To make a search into [its] hidden'st passage.
I know you would not love, to please your sense.
A tree that bears a ragged, unleaf'd top,
In depth of winter, may, when summer comes,
Speak, by his fruit, he is not dead but youthful,
Though once he shew'd no sap. My heart's a plant
Kept down by colder thoughts, and doubtful fears;
Your frowns, like winter storms, make it seem dead,
But yet it is not so; make it but yours,
And you shall see it spring, and shoot forth leaves
Worthy your eye, and the oppressed sap
Ascend to every part to make it green,
And pay your love with fruit when harvest comes,
If my affection be suspected, make
Experience of my loyalty, by some service,
Though full of danger; you shall know me better,
And so discern the truth of what you see not.
Sel . Then you confess your love is cold as yet,
And winter's in your heart?
Infor . Mistake me not,
Selina, for I say my heart is cold,
Not love.
Sel . And yet your love is from your heart,
I'll warrant.
Infor . Oh, you are nimble to mistake;
My heart is cold in your displeasures only,
And yet my love is fervent; for your eye,
Casting out beams, maintains the flame it burns in.
Again, sweet love,
My heart is not mine own, 'tis yours, you have it,
And, while it naked lies, not deign'd your bosom
To keep it warm, how can it be but cold,
In danger to be frozen? blame not it,
You only are in fault it hath no heat.
Sel . Well, sir, I know you have rhetoric; but I
Can, without art, give you a final answer.
Infor . Oh, stay! and think awhile; I cannot relish
You should say final: Sweet, deliberate;
It doth concern all the estate I have,
I mean not dunghill treasure, but my life
Doth stand or fall to it. If your answer be,
That you can love me, be it swift as lightning;
But, if you mean to kill me, and reject
My so long love-devotions, which I have paid
As to an altar, stay a little longer,
And let me count the riches I shall lose,
By one poor airy word: first give me back
That part of Infortunio that is lost
Within your love; play not the tyrant with me.
Sel . You're over weak to let your passions sway you:
If I knew any thing I had of yours,
I would not do you that injustice, sir,
To let it stay with me; and, for your love,
I cannot pay it back again with mine;
Either release the debt, or I shall die in't:
Your suit is fruitless, hopeless; pardon me,
Farewell!
Ant . [ coming forward .] — Now, by all my hopes you are to blame, sister; come, this gentleman deserves your love. — Infortunio!
Sel . Brother, you forget yourself.
Ant . Why, I do remember I am your brother;
I say you must love him.
Sel . Must!
Ant . What! does that move your spirit?
What are you, but you may love? be not petulant; you are a baggage, and not worthy of a man. [ Exit Selina .] By heaven, I now could kick her.
Gasp . Thy t'other sister was of a calmer temper; this, a true woman.
Infor . Sir, had not nature made you brother to her,
I should be angry.
Ant . Alas, poor gentleman! I do not feel myself in such an humour for Hilaria: and yet, by this hand, I love her well enough; and, now I think on't, I promised her my company. She has a damnable, usurious, stinking wretch to her father, that cannot abide me; but 'tis no matter, this wench and I may find a place to meet in, in spite of his eyes and spectacles. —

Enter Gorgon .

How now, Gorgon, what says she?
Gorg . Sir, I have done your remembrances to mistress Hilaria, and told her she should find you coming by and by; but you were best pass in some obscurity, for her father Rufaldo is hard by, sir. — Lupus in fabula .

Enter RUFALDO .

Ant . Gasparo, an thou love me, shew thy wit to entertain this piece of black damask and velvet gards, while I go in to Hilaria.
Ruf . Old men are the truest lovers, young men are inconstant, and wag with every wind; we never move, but are as true as steel.
Gorg . But in women's matters as weak as water, as weak as water.
Ruf . Besides, sweet love; — but do I court a shadow? To see whither love will carry a man! Let me see; I could find in my heart to bestow a ring upon my sweetheart, but that I am loth to part with it. Hem! I will get but one child, and that shall be a boy, lest having too many children, I undo my heir, and my goods be divided. O sweet Selina! O amiable Selina! sure I am not old.
Gor . I have it: — signior Gasparo, pray let me begin with my merchant, if you love me; and you like it, second me.
Gasp . Go to, Gorgon; let's see thy wit now.
Ruf . Old men walk with a staff, and creep along the street, hold their heads below their girdle, faulter in their speech, foam at the mouth, breathe ten times in a furlong, and are ready to spit their lungs on every man's threshold.
Gorg . [ coming forward .] God save you, sir!
Ruf . God-a-mercy, honest Gorgon!
Gorg . I cry you mercy, sir; I assure you, sir, I took you for master Rufaldo, the old merchant.
Ruf . Why, and am not I? Is not the fellow drunk? I am Rufaldo.
Gorg . It may be some kin to him, but not that Rufaldo I mean; you are younger a fair deal.
Ruf . I am that Rufaldo, the merchant, that buried my wife lately, and have one daughter, Hilaria, ancient acquaintance with Cornelio and your master Antonio.
Gorg . Oh, sir, you must excuse me for that.
Ruf . Is thy name Gorgon?
Gorg . What else, sir? honest Gorgon I.
Ruf . Do I know thee to be Gorgon? What! shall I be faced out of myself? why, thou varlet, who am I, if not Rufaldo?
Gorg . Why, sir, 'tis plain, you have no gray hairs in your head, your cheek is scarlet, a wanton, youthful eye; Rufaldo had a head like frost, his eyes sunk into their hollows, a rugged brow, a hoary beard, and all his body not worth a drop of blood; a very crazy, old, meal-mouth'd gentleman; you are younger at least by thirty years.
Ruf . I'll assure thee I was Rufaldo, when I rose in the morning.
Gorg . You have not slept since, have you?
Ruf . No.
Gorg . 'Tis the more strange! I have heard of some that have been changed in a dream, but never waking before: this is strange, nay, admirable.
Ruf . Young! changed! art sure thou dost not mock?
Gorg . I were a very knave then: if you be Rufaldo, I hope your worship knows I have been bound to my good behaviour.
Ruf . Altered! young! ha, I would I were! and yet methinks I am livelier than I was; I feel my joints pliable as wax, and my voice is stronger too. But tell me, honest Gorgon, is it possible for an old man to be young again?
Gorg . Nay, I see you'll not believe me: well, sir, I will be bold to report the wonder abroad, and astonish all your friends.
Ruf . Nay, stay, honest Gorgon — Ha! young! no gray hairs! [ Gasparo comes forward .] — Stay, who's here?
Gasp . Ha! 'tis not he; I'll speak to him; no, 'tis in vain; I'll see if he knows me.
Ruf . Gasparo! What! does not he know me too?
Gasp . Sir, I should know you; are you not signior Petrucchio, the dancing-master?
Ruf . Tricks! passages! I am Rufaldo, old Rufaldo.
Gasp . Rufaldo indeed is old, but you are young; you do retain his countenance: I would swear you were he, but you are younger far.
Ruf . 'Tis so, I am changed, I am younger than I was. I am that Rufaldo, believe it; I know you to be a learned gentleman, named Gasparo: I was told afore I was altered. — But not to trouble you with many questions, only one, Gasparo; is it a thing possible for an old man to be young again? I know 'tis admirable, but is it possible? you are a scholar.
Gasp . Possible! oh yes, there's no question, for we see, by experience, stags cast their old horns, and prove vigorous; snakes cast off their old coats; eagles renew their age; your plants do it familiarly; the phaenix, when she is old, burns herself to ashes, from thence revives a young phaenix again. Possible! I have heard some old men have been twice children, sir, — — therefore, 'tis not impossible.
Ruf. 'Tis very strange! I am not yet confident.
Gasp. There be receipts in physic, sir, to keep them young, saving that time runs on a little beforehand with them; yes, and to make young: since it is harder to make alive when they are dead, than to make young when they are alive, and physic doth revive some, out of all question; though not so familiarly as kill, for that they do with a little study; marry, I think, if it were as gainful to the physician to restore as to destroy, he would practise the art of recovery very faithfully.
Ruf. Why, do you think it would not prove as gainful?
Gasp. Oh! by no means; for where an old man would give a hundred pounds, to have forty or fifty years wiped off the old score of his life; his wife, or next heir, would join, rather than fail, to outbid him half on't, to put him out of debt quite, and to send his old leaking vessel into mare mortuum .
Ruf. Well, well; but if I be young, I have ta'en no physic for't.
Gasp. If! nay, 'tis past if , and and too: you are certainly restored; let me see, you look like one of four or six and thirty, not a minute above, and so much a man may take you for.
Buf. Well, I know not what to say to't; there is some power in love has blest me. Now, Selina, be thou gracious.
Gasp. Are you in love? nay, the wonder is not so great; who can express the power of love? I have read of a painter named Pygmalion, that made the picture of a woman so to the life, that he fell in love with it, courted it, lay in bed with it, and, by [the] power of love, it became a soft-natured wench, indeed, and he begot I know not how many children of her. Well, sir, Selina cannot choose but be mad for you.
Ruf. Not mad, Gasparo; I would be loth to be troubled with her, an she be mad.
Gasp. Yes, an she be mad in love there is no harm in't; she cannot be too mad in love; your cornucopia may be abated at pleasure: besides, sir, the best moral men say, love itself is a madness, and the madder your wife is, the more sure you may be she loves you.
Ruf. No, no; I love no madness on any condition, for fear of being horn-mad.
Gasp. Why, sir, madness is not such a discredit, as the age goes: you know there are many mad fashions, and what man but sometimes may be mad? Are not your great men mad, that, when they have enough, will pawn their soul for a monopoly? Beside mad lords, what do you think of ladies at some time of the moon? you may spell them in their names, mad-dam. You have mad courtiers, that run madding after citizen's wives: the citizens are mad too, to trust them with their wares, who have been so deep in their wives books before. Your justice of peace is sometimes mad too, for when he may see well enough, he will suffer any man to put out his eye with a bribe: some lawyers are often stark-mad, and talk wildly; no man is able to endure their Terms.
Ruf. Prithee, mad-cap, leave: I am almost mad to hear thee.
Gasp. Well, my old young Rufaldo, if you marry Selina, I shall have a pair of gloves, I hope, and you'll let me dance at your wedding.
Ruf. That thou shalt, boy, and I'll dance myself too. — Hey!
Gasp. Farewell, credulity! ha, ha! with what a greediness do old men run out of their wits! 'Twas a good recreation to see with what pleasure he suffered himself to be gull'd: faith, Gasparo, play out thy hand now thou art in, methinks I have an excellent appetite to make myself merry with the simplicity of this age. Let me see; 'tis spring, and I mean to give my head a purgation; it may beat off the remembrance of my lost love, Felice. A pox of melancholy! I will act two or three parts, if I live, in spite of it, and if I die, then — —

Re-enter Gorgon .

Gorg. Signior Gasparo, my master would speak with you: the project too! I met the youth strutting like a gentleman-usher; 'twas my invention.
Gasp. But I gave it polish, Gorgon.
Gorg. I confess, you took off the rough-cast; but 'twas Gorgon's head brought forth the project: from my Jove's brain came this Minerva.
Gasp. I think thou art a wit.
Gorg. Who, I a wit? I thought you had more wit than to make such a question: all the town takes me for a wit. Here's a pate hath crackers in't, and flashes.
Gasp. An thou sayst the word, we'll join in a project of wit, to make an ass of the world a little; it shall make us merry, if it take no other ways: wilt join?
Gorg. By this hand, any project of wit; what is't, good Gasparo? the project?
Gasp. Canst be close?
Gorg. As midnight to a bawd, or a pair of trusses to an Irishman's buttocks.
Gasp. Go to: thou shalt now then excuse me to thy master: I will presently furnish myself with new lodgings, and expect to hear from me shortly, my brave Delphick; I have it in embryo, and I shall soon be delivered.
Gorg. If I fail, call me spider-catcher.
Gasp. Mum; not a word, if all hit right, we may
Laugh all our melancholy thoughts away.