[390] These four lines, which decidedly belong to Maria, in the old copy are assigned to Albert, and form a part of what he says before.--_Collier._
[391: The idea of these answers from an echo seems to have been taken from Lord Stirling's "Aurora," 4, 1604, sig. K 4. One of the triumvirate, Pope, Gay, or Arbuthnot, but which of them is not known, in a piece printed in Swift's "Miscellanies," may have been indebted for the same thought to either Lord Stirling or the present writer.
Since this note was written, I find nothing was more common than these answers of echoes in the works of contemporary and earlier writers.
Many instances might be produced. Amongst others, those who can be pleased with such kind of performances may be referred to Sir P.
Sidney's "Arcadia," or Lodge's "Wounds of Civil War," 1594, act iii.
The folly of them is admirably ridiculed by the author of "Hudibras."--_Reed._
[392] [Edit., _Of_.]
[393] A dance.
ACTUS QUINTUS.
_Enter_ HOG _in his chamber, with_ REBECCA _laying down his bed, and, seeming to put the keys under his bolster, conveyeth them into her pocket_.
HOG. So, have you laid the keys of the outward doors Under my bolster?
REB. Yes, forsooth.
HOG. Go your way to bed then. [_Exit_ REBECCA.
I wonder who did at the first invent These beds, the breeders of disease and sloth: He was no soldier, sure, nor no scholar, And yet he might be very well a courtier; For no good husband would have been so idle, No usurer neither: yet here the bed affords [_Discovers his gold._ Store of sweet golden slumbers unto him.
Here sleeps command in war; Caesar by this Obtain'd his triumphs; this will fight man's cause, When fathers, brethren, and the near'st of friends Leave to assist him; all content to this Is merely vain; the lovers, whose affections Do sympathise together in full pleasure, Debarr'd of this, their summer sudden ends; And care, the winter to their former joys, Breathes such a cold blast on their turtles' bills: Having not this, to shroud them[394] forth his storms, They straight are forc'd to make a separation, And so live under those that rule o'er this.
The gallant, whose illustrious outside draws The eyes of wantons to behold with wonder His rare-shap'd parts, for so he thinks they be, Deck'd in the robes of glistering gallantry; Having not this attendant on his person, Walks with a cloudy brow, and seems to all A great contemner of society; Not for the hate he bears to company, But for the want of this ability.
O silver! thou that art the basest captive Kept in this prison, how many pale offenders For thee have suffer'd ruin? But, O my gold!
Thy sight's more pleasing than the seemly locks Of yellow-hair'd Apollo; and thy touch More smooth and dainty than the down-soft white Of lady's tempting breast: thy bright aspect Dims the great'st lustre of heaven's waggoner.
But why go I about to extol thy worth, Knowing that poets cannot compass it?
But now give place, my gold; for here's a power Of greater glory and supremacy Obscures thy being; here sits enthronis'd The sparkling diamond, whose bright reflection Casts such a splendour on these other gems, 'Mongst which he so majestical appears, As if---- Now my good angels guard me!
[_A flash of fire, and_ LIGHTFOOT _ascends like a spirit_.
LIGHT. _Melior vigilantia somno_.
Stand not amaz'd, good man, for what appears Shall add to thy content; be void of fears: I am the shadow of rich kingly Croesus, Sent by his greatness from the lower world To make thee mighty, and to sway on earth By thy abundant store, as he himself doth In Elysium; how he reigneth there, His shadow will unfold; give thou then ear.
In under-air, where fair Elysium stands, Beyond the river styled Acheron, He hath a castle built of adamant; Not fram'd by vain enchantment, but there fix'd By the all-burning hands of warlike spirits: Whose windows are compos'd of purest crystal, And deck'd within with oriental pearls: There the great spirit of Croesus' royal self Keeps his abode in joyous happiness.
He is not tortur'd there, as poets feign, With molten gold and sulphury flames of fire, Or any such molesting perturbation; But there reputed as a demigod, Feasting with Pluto and his Proserpine, Night after night with all delicious cates, With greater glory than seven kingdoms' states.
Now farther know the cause of my appearance-- The kingly Croesus having by fame's trump Heard that thy lov'd desires stand affected To the obtaining of abundant wealth, Sends me, his shade, thus much to signify, That if thou wilt become famous on earth, He'll give to thee even more than infinite; And after death with him thou shalt partake The rare delights beyond the Stygian lake.
HOG. Great Croesus' shadow may dispose of me To what he pleaseth.
LIGHT. So speaks obediency.
For which I'll raise thy lowly thoughts as high, As Croesus's were in his mortality.
Stand then undaunted, whilst I raise those spirits, By whose laborious task and industry Thy treasure shall abound and multiply.
_Ascend, Ascarion, thou that art A powerful spirit, and dost convert Silver to gold; I say, ascend And on me, Croesus' shade, attend, To work the pleasure of his will._
_The_ PLAYER _appears_.
PLAYER. What, would then Croesus list to fill Some mortal's coffers up with gold, Changing the silver it doth hold?
By that pure metal, if't be so, By the infernal gates I swear, Where Rhadamanth doth domineer; By Croesus' name and by his castle, Where winter nights he keepeth wassail;[395]
By Demogorgon and the fates, And by all these low-country states; That after knowledge of thy mind, Ascarion, like the swift-pac'd wind, Will fly to finish thy command.
LIGHT. Take, then, this silver out of hand, And bear it to the river Tagus, Beyond th' abode of Archi-Magus; Whose golden sands upon it cast, Transform it into gold at last: Which being effected straight return, And sudden, too, or I will spurn This trunk of thine into the pit, Where all the hellish furies sit, Scratching their eyes out. Quick, begone!
PLAYER. Swifter in course than doth the sun. [_Exit_ PLAYER.
LIGHT. How far'st thou, mortal? be not terrifi'd At these infernal motions; know that shortly Great Croesus' ghost shall, in the love he bears thee, Give thee sufficient power by thy own worth To raise such spirits.
HOG. Croesus is much too liberal in his favour To one so far desertless as poor Hog.
LIGHT. Poor Hog! O, speak not that word poor again, Lest the whole apple-tree of Croesus' bounty, Crack'd into shivers, overthrow thy fortunes!
For he abhors the name of poverty, And will grow sick to hear it spoke by those Whom he intends to raise. But see, the twilight, Posting before the chariot of the sun, Brings word of his approach: We must be sudden, and with speed raise up The spirit Bazan, that can straight transform Gold into pearl; be still and circumspect.
_Bazan, ascend up from the treasure Of Pluto, where thou dost[396] at pleasure Metamorphose all his gold Into pearl, which 'bove a thousand-fold Exceeds the value: quickly rise To Croesus' shade, who hath a prize To be performed by thy strength._
[BAZAN _or_] HADDIT _ascends_.
HAD. I am no fencer, yet at length From Pluto's presence and the hall, Where Proserpine keeps festival, I'm hither come; and now I see, To what intent I'm rais'd by thee; It is to make that mortal rich, That at his fame men's ears may itch, When they do hear but of his store.
He hath one daughter and no more, Which all the lower powers decree, She to one Wealthy wedded be; By which conjunction there shall spring Young heirs to Hog, whereon to fling His mass of treasure when he dies; Thus Bazan truly prophesies.
But come, my task! I long to rear His fame above the hemisphere.
LIGHT. Take then the gold which here doth lie, And quick return it by and by All in choice pearl. Whither to go, I need not tell you, for you know.
HAD. Indeed I do, and Hog shall find it so. [_Exit_ HADDIT.
LIGHT. Now, mortal, there is nothing doth remain 'Twixt thee and thine abundance, only this: Turn thy eyes eastward, for from thence appears Ascarion with thy gold, which having brought And at thy foot surrender'd, make obeisance; Then turn about, and fix thy tapers westward, From whence great Bazan brings thy orient pearl; Who'll lay it at thy feet much like the former.
HOG. Then I must make to him obeisance thus?
LIGHT. Why, so; in meantime, Croesus' shade will rest Upon thy bed: but above all, take heed You suffer not your eyes to stray aside From the direct point I have set thee at: For though the spirit do delay the time, And not return your treasure speedily----
HOG. Let the loss light on me, if I neglect Or overslip what Croesus' shade commands.[397]
LIGHT. [_Aside._] So, now practise standing, though it be nothing agreeable to your Hog's age. Let me see, among these writings is my nephew Haddit's mortgage; but in taking that it may breed suspect on us; wherefore this box of jewels will stand far better, and let that alone.
It is now break of day, and near by this the marriage is confirmed betwixt my cousin and great Croesus's friend's daughter here, whom I will now leave to his most weighty cogitations.
So, gentle sir, adieu; time not permits To hear those passions and those frantic fits You're subject to, when you shall find how true Great Croesus' shade hath made an ass of you. [_Exit._
HOG. Let me now ruminate to myself why Croesus should be so great a favourer to me. And yet to what end should I desire to know? I think it is sufficient it is so. And I would he had been so sooner, for he and his spirits would have saved me much labour in the purchasing of wealth; but then indeed it would have been the confusion of two or three scriveners which, by my means, have been properly raised. But now imagine this only a trick, whereby I may be gulled! But how can that be? Are not my doors locked? Have I not seen with my own eyes the ascending of the spirits? Have I not heard with my own ears the invocation wherewith they were raised? Could any but spirits appear through so firm a floor as this is? 'Tis impossible. But hark! I hear the spirit Ascarion coming with my gold. O bountiful Croesus! I'll build a temple to thy mightiness!
_Enter_ YOUNG LORD WEALTHY _and_ PETER SERVITUDE.
Y. LORD W. O Peter, how long have we slept upon the hogshead?
P. SER. I think a dozen hours, my lord, and 'tis nothing. I'll undertake to sleep sixteen, upon the receipt of two cups of muskadine.[398]
Y. LORD W. I marvel what's become of Haddit and Lightfoot!
P. SER. Hang 'em, flinchers; they slunk away as soon as they had drank as much as they were able to carry, which no generous spirit would ha'