VER. Content yourself; we'll have variety.
_Here enter three_ CLOWNS _and three_ MAIDS, _singing this song, dancing:--
Trip and go, heave and hoe, Up and down, to and fro; From the town to the grove, Two and two let us rove.
A maying, a playing: Love hath no gainsaying; So merrily trip and go_.
WILL SUM. Beshrew my heart, of a number of ill legs I never saw worse dancers. How bless'd are you, that the wenches of the parish do not see you!
SUM. Presumptuous Ver, uncivil-nurtur'd boy? Think'st I will be derided thus of thee? Is this th'account and reckoning that thou mak'st?
VER. Troth, my lord, to tell you plain, I can give you no other account; _nam quae habui perdidi_; what I had, I spent on good fellows; in these sports you have seen, which are proper to the spring, and others of like sort (as giving wenches green gowns,[29] making garlands for fencers, and tricking up children gay), have I bestowed all my flowery treasure and flower of my youth.
WILL SUM. A small matter. I know one spent in less than a year eight and fifty pounds in mustard, and another that ran in debt, in the space of four or five year, above fourteen thousand pound in lute-strings and grey-paper.[30]
SUM. O monstrous unthrift! who e'er heard the like?
The sea's vast throat, in so short tract of time, Devoureth nor consumeth half so much.
How well might'st thou have liv'd within thy bounds.
VER. What, talk you to me of living within my bounds? I tell you none but asses live within their bounds: the silly beasts, if they be put in a pasture, that is eaten bare to the very earth, and where there is nothing to be had but thistles, will rather fall soberly to those thistles and be hunger-starv'd, than they will offer to break their bounds; whereas the lusty courser, if he be in a barren plot, and spy better grass in some pasture near adjoining, breaks over hedge and ditch, and to go, ere he will be pent in, and not have his bellyful.
Peradventure, the horses lately sworn to be stolen,[31] carried that youthful mind, who, if they had been asses, would have been yet extant.
WILL SUM. Thus, we may see, the longer we live the more we shall learn: I ne'er thought honesty an ass till this day.
VER. This world is transitory; it was made of nothing, and it must to nothing: wherefore, if we will do the will of our high Creator, whose will it is that it pass to nothing, we must help to consume it to nothing. Gold is more vile than men: men die in thousands and ten thousands, yea, many times in hundred thousands, in one battle. If then the best husband has been so liberal of his best handiwork, to what end should we make much of a glittering excrement, or doubt to spend at a banquet as many pounds as he spends men at a battle? Methinks I honour _Geta_, the Roman emperor, for a brave-minded fellow; for he commanded a banquet to be made him of all meats under the sun, which were served in after the order of the alphabet, and the clerk of the kitchen, following the last dish, which was two miles off from the foremost, brought him an index of their several names. Neither did he pingle, when it was set on the board, but for the space of three days and three nights never rose from the table.
WILL SUM. O intolerable lying villain, that was never begotten without the consent of a whetstone![32]
SUM. Ungracious man, how fondly he argueth!
VER. Tell me, I pray, wherefore was gold laid under our feet in the veins of the earth, but that we should contemn it, and tread upon it, and so consequently tread thrift under our feet? It was not known till the iron age, _donec facinus invasit mortales_, as the poet says; and the Scythians always detested it. I will prove it that an unthrift, of any, comes nearest a happy man, in so much as he comes nearest to beggary. Cicero saith, _summum bonum_ consists in _omnium rerum vacatione_, that is, the chiefest felicity that may be to rest from all labours. Now who doth so much _vacare a rebus_, who rests so much, who hath so little to do as the beggar? who can sing so merry a note, as he that cannot change a groat?[33] _Cui nil est, nil deest_: he that hath nothing wants nothing. On the other side, it is said of the carl, _Omnia habeo, nec quicquam habeo_: I have all things, yet want everything.
_Multi mihi vitio vertunt quia egeo_, saith Marcus Cato in Aulus Gellius; _at ego illis quia nequeunt egere_: many upbraid me, saith he, because I am poor; but I upbraid them, because they cannot live if they be poor.[34] It is a common proverb, _Divesque miserque_, a rich man and a miserable: _nam natura paucis contenta_, none so contented as the poor man. Admit that the chiefest happiness were not rest or ease, but knowledge, as Herillus, Alcidamus, and many of Socrates' followers affirm; why _paupertas omnes perdocet artes_, poverty instructs a man in all arts; it makes a man hardy and venturous, and therefore is it called of the poets _paupertas audax_, valiant poverty. It is not so much subject to inordinate desires as wealth or prosperity. _Non habet, unde suum paupertas pascat amorem_;[35] poverty hath not wherewithal to feed lust. All the poets were beggars; all alchemists and all philosophers are beggars. _Omnia mea mecum porto_, quoth Bias, when he had nothing but bread and cheese in a leathern bag, and two or three books in his bosom. Saint Francis, a holy saint, and never had any money. It is madness to doat upon muck. That young man of Athens, Aelianus makes mention of, may be an example to us, who doated so extremely on the image of Fortune, that when he might not enjoy it, he died for sorrow.
The earth yields all her fruits together, and why should we not spend them together? I thank heavens on my knees, that have made me an unthrift.[36]
SUM. O vanity itself: O wit ill-spent!
So study thousands not to mend their lives, But to maintain the sin they most affect, To be hell's advocates 'gainst their own souls.
Ver, since thou giv'st such praise to beggary, And hast defended it so valiantly, This be thy penance: thou shalt ne'er appear Or come abroad, but Lent shall wait on thee: His scarcity may countervail thy waste.
Riot may flourish, but finds want at last.
Take him away that knoweth no good way, And lead him the next way to woe and want. [_Exit_ VER.
Thus in the paths of knowledge many stray, And from the means of life fetch their decay.
WILL SUM. Heigho. Here is a coil indeed to bring beggars to stocks. I promise you truly I was almost asleep; I thought I had been at a sermon.
Well, for this one night's exhortation, I vow, by God's grace, never to be good husband while I live. But what is this to the purpose? "Hur come to Fowl," as the Welshman says, "and hur pay an halfpenny for hur seat, and hur hear the preacher talg, and hur talg very well, by gis[37]; but yet a cannot make her laugh: go to a theatre and hear a Queen's Fice, and he make hur laugh, and laugh hur belly full." So we come hither to laugh and be merry, and we hear a filthy, beggarly oration in the praise of beggary. It is a beggarly poet that writ it; and that makes him so much commend it, because he knows not how to mend himself. Well, rather than he shall have no employment but lick dishes, I will set him a work myself, to write in praise of the art of stooping, and how there never was any famous thresher, porter, brewer, pioneer, or carpenter that had straight back. Repair to my chamber, poor fellow, when the play is done, and thou shalt see what I will say to thee.
SUM. Vertumnus, call Solstitium.
VER. Solstitium, come into the court: without, peace there below! make room for Master Solstitium.
_Enter_ SOLSTITIUM, _like an aged hermit, carrying a pair of balances, with an hour-glass in either of them--one hour-glass white, the other black: he is brought in by a number of Shepherds, playing upon recorders_.[38]
SOL. All hail to Summer, my dread sovereign lord.
SUM. Welcome, Solstitium: thou art one of them, To whose good husbandry we have referr'd Part of those small revenues that we have.
What hast thou gain'd us? what hast thou brought in?
SOL. Alas, my lord! what gave you me to keep But a few day's-eyes[39] in my prime of youth?
And those I have converted to white hairs; I never lov'd ambitiously to climb, Or thrust my hand too far into the fire.
To be in heaven, sure, is a bless'd thing; But Atlas-like to prop heaven on one's back, Cannot but be more labour than delight.
Such is the state of men in honour plac'd; They are gold vessels made for servile uses; High trees that keep the weather from low houses, But cannot shield the tempest from themselves.
I love to dwell betwixt the hills and dales; Neither to be so great to be envied, Nor yet so poor the world should pity me.
_Inter utrumque tene, medio tutissimus ibis_[40].
SUM. What dost thou with those balances thou bear'st?
SOL. In them I weigh the day and night alike: This white glass is the hour-glass of the day, This black one the just measure of the night.
One more than other holdeth not a grain; Both serve time's just proportion to maintain.
SUM. I like thy moderation wondrous well; And this thy balance-weighing, the white glass And black, with equal poise and steadfast hand, A pattern is to princes and great men, How to weigh all estates indifferently; The spiritualty and temporalty alike: Neither to be too prodigal of smiles, Nor too severe in frowning without cause.
If you be wise, you monarchs of the earth, Have two such glasses still before your eyes; Think as you have a white glass running on, Good days, friends, favour, and all things at beck, So this white glass run out (as out it will) The black comes next; your downfall is at hand.
Take this of me, for somewhat I have tried; A mighty ebb follows a mighty tide.
But say, Solstitium, hadst thou nought besides?
Nought but day's-eyes and fair looks gave I thee?
SOL. Nothing, my lord, nor aught more did I ask.
SUM. But hadst thou always kept thee in my sight, Thy good deserts, though silent, would have ask'd.
SOL. Deserts, my lord, of ancient servitors Are like old sores, which may not be ripp'd up.
Such use these times have got, that none must beg, But those that have young limbs to lavish fast.
SUM. I grieve no more regard was had of thee: A little sooner hadst thou spoke to me, Thou hadst been heard, but now the time is past: Death waiteth at the door for thee and me.
Let us go measure out our beds in clay; Nought but good deeds hence shall we bear away.
Be, as thou wert, best steward of my hours, And so return into thy country bow'rs.
[_Here_, SOLSTITIUM _goes out with his music, as he comes in_.
WILL SUM. Fie, fie, of honesty, fie! Solstitium is an ass, perdy, this play is a gallimaufry. Fetch me some drink, somebody. What cheer, what cheer, my hearts? Are not you thirsty with listening to this dry sport?
What have we to do with scales and hour-glasses, except we were bakers or clock-keepers? I cannot tell how other men are addicted, but it is against my profession to use any scales but such as we play at with a bowl, or keep any hours but dinner or supper. It is a pedantical thing to respect times and seasons: if a man be drinking with good fellows late, he must come home for fear the gates be shut: when I am in my warm bed, I must rise to prayers, because the bell rings. I like no such foolish customs. Actors, bring now a black jack and a rundlet of Rhenish wine, disputing of the antiquity of red noses: let the Prodigal Child[41] come in in his doublet and hose all greasy, his shirt hanging forth, and ne'er a penny in his purse, and talk what a fine thing it is to walk summerly, or sit whistling under a hedge, and keep hogs. Go forward, in grace and virtue to proceed, but let us have no more of these grave matters.
SUM. Vertumnus, will Sol come before us?
VER. Sol, Sol; _ut, re, mi, fa, sol_![42]
Come to church, while the bell toll.
_Enter_ SOLSTITIUM _very richly attired, with a noise of musicians before him_.
SUM. Ay, marry, here comes majesty in pomp, Resplendent Sol, chief planet of the heavens!
He is our servant, looks he ne'er so big.
SOL. My liege, what crav'st thou at thy vassal's hands?