In this, Melibea, I see heauens greatnesse, and goodnesse.

In what, Calisto?

Greatnesse, in giuing such power to nature, as to endow thee with so perfect a beauty; goodnesse, in affoording me so great a fauour as thy faire presence, and a place so conuenient to vnsheathe my secret griefe; A grace vndoubtedly so incomparable, and by many degrees fargreater than any seruice I haue performed can merit • omaboue. What inhabitant heere below euer saw a more glorious creature then I behold? Certainly, if sublunary bodies can giue a celestiall reflection or resemblance, I contemplate and find it in thy diuine beauty: had it perpetuity, what happines beyond it? Yet wretch that I am, I must liue like another Tantalus; see what I may not enjoy, not touch; and my comfort must be the thinking of thy disdainnesse, thy pleasing coynesse, and the torment which thy absence will inflict vpon me.

Holdest thou this, Calisto, so great a reward?

So great, that if you should giue me the greatest good vpon earth, I should not hold it so great a happinesse.

I shall giue thee a reward answerable to thy deserts, if thou perseuere and goe on in this manner.

O fortunate eares! which are (though vnworthily) admitted to heare so gracious a word, such great and comfortable tydings.

But vnfortunate, by that time thou hast heard thy doome. For thy payment shall be as foule, as thy presumption was foolish, and thy entertainment • small, at thy intrusion was great. How durst such a one as thou hazard thy selfe on the vertue of such a one as I? Goe wretch, be gone out of my sight, for my patience cannot endure, that so much as a thought should enter into any mans heart, to communicate his mind vnto me in illicite loue.

I goe; but as one, who am the onely vnhappy marke, againe whom aduerse fortune the extremity of her hate. 〈…〉 I say, Where is this accursed 〈◊〉

Is'te'en so? Now the diuell take thee; misfortune waite on thy heeles to thy destruction; mischiefe light vpon thee; let some perpetuall intolerable torment sey • e vpon thee in so high a degree, that it may be beyond all comparison, till it bring thee (which shortly I hope to see) to a most painfull, miserable and disastrous death. Goe, thou vnlucky rogue, goe I say, and open the chamber doore, and make ready my bed.

Presently Sir, the bed is ready for you.

Shut the windowes, and leaue darkenesse to accompany him, whose sad thoughts deserue no light. Oh death! how welcome art thou, to those who out-liue their happinesse? how welcome, wouldst thou but come when thou art call'd? O that Hypocrates and Galen, those learned Physicians were now liuing, and both heere, and felt my paine! O heauen, if yee haue any pitty in you, inspire that Pleberian heart therewith, lest that my soule, helplesse of hope, should fall into the like misfortune with Pyrramus & Thisbe.

What a thing is this? What's the matter with you?

Away, get thee gone, doe not speake to me vnlesse thou wilt, that these my hands, before thy time be come, cut off thy daies by speedy death.

Since you will lament all alone, and haue none to share with you in your sorrowes, I will be gone, Sir.

Now the diuell goe with thee.

With me Sir? there is no reason that he should goe with me, who stayes with you. O vnfortunate, O sudden and vnexpected ill; what contrarious accident, what squint-ey'd •• ame is it that hath robbed this Gentleman of his wonted mirth? and not of that alone, but of it (which is worse) his wits. Shall I leaue him all alone? or shall I goe in to him? If I leaue him alone, he will kill himselfe. If I goe in, he will kill me. Let him bide alone, and bite vpon the bit, come what will, come I care not. Better it is that hee dye, whose life is hatefull vnto him, then that I dye, when life is pleasing vnto mee, and say that I should not desire to liue, saue onely to see my Elicia, that alone is motiue inough to make mee looke to my selfe, and guard my person from dangers: but admit he should kill himselfe without any other witnesse, then must I be bound to giue account of his life. Well, I will in for that, but put case when I come in, he will take neither comfort nor counsell: mary his case is desperate, for it is a shrewd signe of death, not to be willing to be cured. Well, I wi • l let him alone a while, and giue his humour leaue to worke out it selfe; I will forbeare, till his angry fit be ouer-past, and that his hat be come againe to his colour. For I haue heard say, that it is dangerous to lance or crush an Impostume before it bee ri • e, for then it will 〈◊〉 the more: Let him alone a while, let vs suffer him to weepe who suffers to sorrow, for teares and sighes doe ease the heart that is surcharded with griefe; but then againe, if he see mee in sight, I shall see him more incensed against mee: For there the sunne scorcheth most, where he reflecteth most: the sight which hath no obiect set before it, waxeth weary-and dull, and hauing its obiect, is as quicke. And therefore I thinke it my best play, to play least in sight, and to stay a little longer; but if in the meane while he should kill himselfe, then farewell he. Perhaps I may get more by it then euery man is aware of, and cast my skinne, changing rags for robes, and penury for plenty: But it is an old saying, He that lookes after dead-mens shooes, may chance to goe barefoote: Perhaps also the diuell hath deceiued me. And so his death may be my death, and then all the fat is in the fire: The rope will go after the Bucket: and one losse follow another; on the otherside, your wise men say, That it is a great ease to a grieued soule, or one that is afflicted, to haue a companion, to whom he may communicate his sorrow. Besides, it is generally receiued, that the wound which bleedes inward, is euer the more dangerous. Why then in these two extremes hang I in suspence what I were best to doe? Sure, the safest is to enter: and better it is that I should indure his anger, then for feare of his displeasure to forbeare to comfort him. For, if it be possible to cure without Arte, and without things ready at hand, farre easier is it to cure by Arte, and wanting nothing that is necessary.

How shall he tune it, who himselfe is out of tune? Or how canst thou heare harmony from him, who is at such discord with himselfe? Or how can he do any thing well, whose will is not obedient to reason? Who harbors in his brest needles, peace, warre, truce, loue, hate, injuries and suspicions; And all these at once, and from one, and the same cause. Doe thou therefore take this Lute vnto thee, and sing me the most dolefull ditty thou canst deuise.

My fire is farre greater, and lesse her pity whom now I speake of.

I was not deceiued when I sayd, my Master had lost his wits.

Marry I said, How can that fire be greater which but tormenteth one liuing man, then that which burnt such a Citty as that was, and such a multitude of men?

How? I shall tell thee. Greater is that flame which lasteth sourescore yeeres, then that which endureth but one day. And greater that fire, which burneth one soule, then that which burneth an hundred thousand bodies: See what difference there is betwixt apparencies, and existencies; betwixt painted shaddowes, and liuely substances, betwixt that which is counterset, and that which is reall. So great a difference is there betwixt that fire which thou speakest of, and that which burneth mee.

I see, I did not mistake my byas; which, for ought I perceiue, runnes worse and worse. Is it not inough to shew thy selfe a foole, but thou must also speake prophanely?

Did not I will tell thee, when thou speakest, that thou shouldest speake aloud? Tell me whats that thou mumblest to thy selfe.

I am a Melibean, I adore Melibea, I beleeue in Melibea, and I loue Melibea.

My Master is all Melibea: who now but Melibea? whose heart not able to containe her, like a boyling vessell, venting it's heate, goes bubbling her name in his mouth. Well, I haue now as much as I desire: I know on which foote you halt, I shall not heale you.

O Sir▪ exceeding easie; for the first recouery of sicknesse, is the discouery of the disease.

What counsell can order that, which in it selfe hath neither counsell nor order?

Ha, ha, ha, Calisto's fire; these, his intolerable paines: As if loue had beene his bow, shot all his arrowes onely against him. Oh Cupid, how high and vnsearchable are thy mysteries? What reward hast thou ordained for loue, since that so necessary a tribulation attends on louers? Thou hast set his bounds, as markes for men to wonder at: Louers euer deeming, that they only are cast behinde; and that others fill out- 〈◊〉 them: That all men breake thorow, but themselues like your •• ght 〈◊〉 bulls, which being set loose in the place, and ga •• ed with 〈◊〉 , take ouer the 〈◊〉 as soone as they feele themselues 〈◊〉 .

It is misery inough to haue a mans will captiuated, and chained to one place onely.

Thou wot'st not what constancy is.

Perseuerance in ill is not constancy, but obstinacy, or pertinacy, so they call it in my countrey; how-euer it please you Philosophers of Cupid to phra • e it.

It is a foule fault for a man to belye that which he teacheth to others: for thou thy selfe takest pleasure in praysing thy Elicia.

Do you that good which I say, but not that ill which I do.

Wy dost thou reprooue mee?

Because thou dost subiect the dignity and worthinesse of a man, to the imperfection and weakenesse of a fraile woman.

A woman? O thou blockhead, she's a Goddesse.

Are you in earnest, or doe you but jest?

Iest? I verily beleeue she is a Goddesse.

As Goddesses were of old, that is, to fall below mortality, and then you would hope to haue a share in her deity.

A 〈◊〉 on thee for a foole, thou makest mee laugh, which I thought not to doe to day.

What, would you weepe all the dayes of your life?

Yes.

And why?

Because I loue her, before whom I finde my selfe so vnworthy, that I haue no hope to obtaine her.

O Coward, baser then the sonne of a whore: why, Alexander the Great did not onely thinke himselfe worthy the dominion of one onely, but of many worlds.

I did not well heare what thou saidst, say it againe: repeate it againe before thou proceed any further.

I said Sir, Should you, whose heart, is greater then Alexanders, despaire of obtaining a woman? wherefore many, hauing beene seated in highest estate, haue balsely prostituted themselues to the embracements of Muletteeres, and Stablegroomes, suffering them to breathe in their faces, with their vnsauory breaths, and to imbosome them between their brest • ▪ And othersome not ashamed to haue companied with bruite-beasts. Haue you not heard of Pasiphae, who plai'd the wanton with a Bull? and of Minerua, how she dailled with a dogge?

Tusa, I beleeue it not, they are but fables.

And that of your Grandmother and her Ape, that's a fable too: Witnesse your Grandfathers knife, that kill'd the villaine that did cuckold him.

A poxe of this cocks-combe, what gi •• he giues!

Haue I • ettled you (Sir?) 〈◊〉 your histories, study your philosophers, examine your 〈◊〉 ; and you shall finde how full their bookes are of their 〈…〉 and of the ruines and destructions whereinto they haue runne, who held them in that high esteeme as you doe. Consult with 〈◊〉 and you shall see how vilely he reckons of them. 〈◊〉 vnto 〈◊〉 , and you shall finde that all of them to this agree: but whatsoeuer I haue, or shall heereafter speake in them; mistake mee not, I pray you, but consider them as words, commonly and generally spoken: For many of them haue beene, and are holy, vertuous and noble, whose glorious and resplendent crownes blot out this generall reproach. But touching the other, who can recount vnto you their falsehoods, their tricks, their tradings, their truckings, their exchanging commodities, their lightnesse, their teares, their mutabilities, and their boldnesse and impudencies: For whatsoeuer they conceit, they dare to execute without any deliberation, or aduisement in the world; their dissemblings, their talketiuenesse, their deceits, their forgetfulnesse, their vnkindenesse, their ingratitude, their inconstancy, their sicklenesse, their saying and gaine-saying, and all in a breath; their windings and turnings, their presumption, their vaine-glory, their basenesse, their foolishnesse, their disdainfulnesse, their coynesse, their pride, their haughtinesse, their base submissions, their prattlings, their gluttony, their luxury, their slut • ishnesse, their timorousnesse, their witeneries, their cheatings, their gibings, their slandrings and their bawdry. Now consider with your selfe, what idle gyddy-headed braines are vnder those large and fine cob-web veiles; what wicked thoughts vnder those gay gorgets; what pride and arrogancy vnder those their long, rich and stately robes; what mad toyes vnder their painted Temples.

Tell me, I pray, this Alexander, this Seneca, this Aristotle, this Virgil, these whom thou tell'st mee of; did not they subject themselue vnto them? Am I greater then these?

I would you should follow those that did subdue them; not those that were subdued by them. Flye from their deceits. Know you (Sir) what they doe? They doe things that are too hard for any man to vnderstand: they obserue no meane; they haue no reason; not doe they take any heed in what they doe. They are the first themselues that cause • man to loue: and themselues are the first that beginne to loath. They will priuately pleasure him, whom afterwards they will openly wrong, and draw him secretly in at their windowes, whom in the streetes they will publikely raile at. They will giue you roste-meate, and beate you with the spit. They will inuite you vnto them, and presently send you packing with a flea in your eare; Call you, and yet exclude you; seale you her loue, and yet proclaime hate; quickly be wonne, and quickly be lost; soone pleased, and as soone displeased; and (which is the true humour of a woman) whatsoeuer her will diuines, that must bee affected. Her apprehensions admit no delayes; and bee they impossible to bee attained to, yet not effecting them, she streightway censures it want of wit or affection, if not both. O what a plague? what a hell? nay, what a lothsome thing is it for a man to haue to doe with them any longer, then in that short pricke of time that hee holds them in his armes, when they are prepared for pleasure!

Thou seest the more thou tell'st me, and the more inconueniences thou settest before mee, the more I loue her. I know not how, nor what it is, but sure I am, that so it is.

This is no fit counsell I see for young men, who know not how to submit themselues to reason, nor to be gouerned by discretion; it is a miserable thing, to thinke that hee should be a Master, who was neuer any scholler.

And you Sir, that are so wise, who I pray taught you all this?

Who? why, they themselues, who no sooner discouer their shame, but they lose it. For all this, and much more then I haue told you, they themselues will manifest vnto men. Ballance thy selfe then aright in the true scale of thine honour, giue thy reputation it's due proportion, it's just measure, and thinke your selfe to be more worthy then in your owne esteeme you repute your selfe. For (beleeue mee) worse is that extreme, whereby a man suffers himselfe to fall from his owne worth, then that which makes a man ouer-valew himselfe, and seate himselfe in higher place then beseeme him.

Now, what of all this? what am I the better for it?

What? why this: First of all, you are a man; then, of an excellent and singular wit; To this, indewed with those better sort of blessings, wherewith Nature hath endowed you, to wit, wisedome, fauour, feature, largenesse of limbes, force, agility, and abilities of body. And to these, fortune hath in so good a measure shared what is hers with thee, that these thy inward graces, are by thy outward the more beautified. For, without these outward goods, wherof fortune is chiefe Mistresse, no man in this life comes to be happy. Lastly, the starres were so propitious at thy birth, and thy selfe borne vnder so good a Planet, that thou are belou'd of all.

What lyes and fooleries will my captiued Master now tell mee?

What's that?

I said, I would haue you tell mee: for I shall take great pleasure in hearing it, so fortune befriend you Sir, as this speach of yours shall be pleasing vnto mee.

What saist thou?

That fortune would so befriend mee, as I shall take pleasure to heare you.

Since then, that it is so pleasing vnto thee, I will figure foorth vnto thee euery part in her, euen in the fullest manner that I can deuise.

Heer's a deale of doo indeede: This is that I looked for, though more then I desired, it will be a tedious piece of businesse, but I must giue him the hearing.

I will beginne first with her haires; Hast thou seene those skaynes of fine twisted gold which are spun in Arabia? Her haires are more fine, and shine no lesse then they; the length of them is to the lowest pitch of her heele, besides, they are daintily combed, and dressed, and knit vp in knots with curious fine ribbaning, as shee her selfe pleaseth to adorne and set them foorth, being of power themselues, without any other helpe, to transforme men into stones.

Into Asses rather.

What saist thou?

I say that these could not bee Asses hayres.

See what a beastly and base comparison this foole makes!

It is well Sir that you are so wise.

Her eyes are quicke, cleare and full; the hayres to those lids rather long then short; Her eye-browes thinnish, not thicke of hayre, and so prettily arched, that by their bent, they are much the more beautifull; Her nose of such a middling size, as may not be mended; Her mouth little; Her teeth small and white; her lips red and plumpe; The forme of her face rather long then round; Her brests placed in a fitting height; but their rising roundnesse, and the pretty pleasing fashion of her little tender nipples, who is able to figure foorth vnto thee? So distracted is the eye of man when he does behold them; Her skinne as smooth, soft, and sleeke as Satten, and her whole body so white, that the snow seemes darknesse vnto it; Her colour so mingled, and of so singular a temper, as if she had chosen it her selfe.

This foole is fallen into his thirteenes. O how hee ouerreaches!

Her hands little, and in a measurable manner, and fit proportion accompanied with her sweet flesh; Her fingers long; Her nayles large and well coloured; seeming Rubies, intermixt with pearles. The proportion of those other parts which I could not eye, vndoubtedly (judging things vnseene, by the seene) must of force be incomparably farre better then that, which Paris gaue his judgement of in the difference betweene the three Goddesses.

Haue you done, Sir?

As briefely as I could.

Suppose all this you say were true, yet in that you are a man, I still say, you are more worthy then shee.

In what?

In that shee is imperfect: Out of which defect, shee lusts and longs after your selfe, or some one lesse worthy. Did you neuer reade that of the Philosopher, where he tells you, That as the matter desires the forme, so woman desires man?

O wretch that I am, when shall I see this betweene me and Melibea?

It is possible that you may: and as possible that you may one day hate her as much as now you loue her, when you shall come to the full injoying of her, and to looking on her with other eyes, free from that errour which now blindeth your judgement.

With what eyes?

With cleare eyes.

And with what I pray doe I see now?

With false eyes; Like some kinde of spectacles, which make little things seeme great; and great little. Doe not you despaire; my selfe will take this businesse in hand, not doubting but to accomplish your desire.

Ioue grant thou maiest: howsoeuer, I am proud to heare thee, though hopelesse of euer obtaining it.

Nay, I will assure it you.

Heau'n be thy good speed; my cloth of gold doublet, which I wore yesterday, it is thine, Sempronio. Take it to thee.

I thanke you for this, and for many more which you shall giue mee. My jesting hath turn'd to my good. I hitherto haue the better of it. And if my Master clap such spurs to my sides, and giue mee such good incouragements, I doubt not, but I shall bring her to his bed. This which my Master hath giuen mee, is a good wheele to bring the businesse about: for without reward, it is impossible to goe well thorow with any thing.

See, you be not negligent now.

Nay, be not you negligent; For it is impossible, that a carelesse Master should make a diligent seruant.

But tell me, How dost thou think to purchase her pitty?

I shall tell you. It is now a good while agoe, since at the lower end of this 〈◊〉 I fell acquainted with an old 〈◊〉 woman, called 〈◊〉 , a which, 〈◊〉 as the 〈…〉 , and 〈…〉 in all the rogueries and 〈◊〉 that the world can a • foo • ; One who in my conscience hath marr'd and made vp againe a 〈◊〉 thousand maiden-heads in this Citty: Such a power, and such authority shee hath, what by her perswasions, and other her cunning deuices, that none can escape her: shee will moue hard rocks, if she list, and at her pleasure prouoke them to Luxury.

O that I might but speake with her!

I will bring her hither vnto you; and therefore prepare your selfe for it, and when shee comes, in any case vse her kindely, be francke and liberall with her; and whilest I goe my wayes, doe you study and deuise with your selfe, to expresse your paines, as well as I know shee is able to giue you remedy.

O but thou staiest too long.

I am gone, Sir.

A good lucke with thee. You happy powers that predominate humane actions, assist and be propitious to my desires, second my intentions, prosper Sempronio's proceedings & his succes • e, in bringing me such an Aduocatrix as shall, according to his promise, not onely negotiate, but absolutely compasse and bring to a wished period, the preconceiued hopes of an incomparable pleasure.

Elicia, what will you giue mee for my good newes?

Sempronio is come.

O hush; peace, peace.

Why? What's the matter?

Peace, I say, for here is Crito.

Put him in the little chamber where the besomes bee. Quickly, quickly, I say, and tell him a cousin of yours, and a friend of mine is come to see you.

Crito, come hither, come hither, quickely; O my cousin is come, my cousin is beneath; What shall I doe? Come quickely, I am vndone else.

With all my heart: Doe not vexe your selfe.

O my deare mother, what a longing haue I had to come vnto you! I thanke my fate, that hath giuen me leaue to see you.

My sonne, my king, thou hast rauish'd mee with thy presence, I am so ouer-joyed, that I cannot speake to thee; Turne thee about vnto mee, and imbrace mee once more in thine a •• . 〈…〉 so long away together, and 〈…〉 heere?

Who, mother?

〈◊〉 , daughter?

〈…〉 O, how my heart rises How 〈…〉 And what of him?

〈1 paragraph〉

〈…〉

Hy, hy, hy! Why, now now my 〈◊〉 what is it 〈…〉

Wh •• ! Three dayes? Three whole dayes away? And in all that time not so much as once come and see me? Not once 〈◊〉 vpon me? Fortune neuer looke on thee; neuer comfort thee, 〈◊〉 thee: Wo to that woman, wretched as • he is, who in 〈…〉 her hope, and the end of all her happinesse.

No more (deare Loue.) Thinkst thou (sweet heart) that distance of place can diuorce my inward and imbowelle 〈…〉 Or dead but the least sparke or that true 〈…〉 ? Where-e're I goe, thou goe 〈…〉 Th • n hast not felt more affliction 〈…〉 , then I haue suffered and endured for thee. 〈…〉 Me thinkes I heere some bodies seete mooue aboue: Who is it?

Who is it? One of my sweet hearts.

Nay, like though, I easily beleeue it.

Nay, it is true: Goe vp and see else.

I goe.

Come hither (my son) come along with me, let this foole alone, for shee is idle-headed, and almost out of her little wits; such thought hath she taken for thy abs • nce. Regard not what she saies, for she will tell you a thousand film-flam tales; Come, come with me, and let vs talke. Let vs not spend the time thus in idlements.

But I pray, who is that aboue?

Would you know who?

I would.

A Wench recommended vnto me by a Fryer.

What Fryer?

O, by no meanes.

Now, as you loue me, good mother, tell mee what Fryer is it?

Lord, how earnest you be? you would dye now, if you should not know him; Well, to saue your longing, it is that fat Fryers Wench: I need say no more.

You see, wee women must beare all, and it were greater • wee 〈…〉 you haue seene but few murders committe • vpon a women in 〈◊〉

〈…〉 No but many great swellings, besides 〈…〉 what not?

〈…〉 vpon you how you talke; you doe but 〈…〉

〈…〉 mee see her.

〈…〉 and see her, but see you come at 〈…〉

Be patient, my deare, thou that are the onely Idoll of my 〈◊〉 ; • s this the gall that w • ings you? This your griefe? Nay, If this make you so anger, I will neither see her, not any other woman in the world. I will onely speake a word or two with my mother, and so b • d you adie • .

Goe, goe, be gone, vngratefull, vnthankefull as thou art, and 〈◊〉 away three yeeres more if thou wilt, ere euer thou see mee.

Mother, you may relye vpon what I haue told you, and assure your selfe, that of all the women in the world, I would 〈…〉 or •••• emble with you: Put on your Mantle then, and 〈…〉 and by the way, I will tell you all. For if I should stay heere citating vpon the businesse, and protract the time in deliuering my minde, it would turne much to both our hurts, and hinder thy profit 〈…〉

〈…〉 , fare well; make fast the doore; 〈…〉

So law. Now (mother) laying all other things apart, 〈…〉 , be attentius to that which I shall tell you; let not your 〈◊〉 goe a wooll gathering; nor scatter your thoughts, nor 〈◊〉 them into many parts: for hee that is euery where, is no where: and cannot, (vnlesse it be by chance) certainely determine anything. I will that you know that of mee, which as yet you neuer 〈◊〉 . Besides, I could neuer since the time that I first entred 〈…〉 with thee, and had plighted my faith vnto thee, desire 〈…〉 , therein thou mightest not share with mee.

And Ioue (my good sonne) share his good blessings with thee, which ( •• so it p • ease him) he shall not doe without cause; because thou takest pity of this poore wicked old woman: say on therfore, make no longer delay; for that friendship, which betwixt thee and mee hath taken such deepe rooting, needeth no Preambles, no cirum •• urions, no preparations or insinuation to winne affection: Be briefe therefore and come to the point; for it is idle to vtter that in many words, that may be vnderstood in a few.

It is true: And there fore thus, Calisto is hot in loue with Melibea, he stands in need of thine & my help. And because he needs our ioynt furtherance, let vs ioyne together to make some purchase of him. For to know a mans time, to make vse of opportunity, and to take occasion by the foretop, and to worke vpon a man whilst his humour serues him, why it is the onely round, by which many haue climbed vp to prosperity.

Well hast thou said: I perceiue thy drift. The winking or beckning on the eye is inough for mee, for as old as I am, I 〈◊〉 see day 〈…〉 this thy newes, as Surgeons of broken- 〈◊〉 And 〈…〉 Delayed hope afflict •• the heart, And the farther he is off from obtaining, the fayrer will be promise to haue it effected. Vnderstand you mee.

Hush. No more. We are now at the gate, and walls (they say) haue eares.

What a pocks, art thou deafe? Canst thou not heare?

Some body knocks at the gate. Runne.

Open the doore for this matronly Dame and mee.

Sir, wot you who they are that knocke so loud? It is Sempronio, and an old bawd hee hath brought along with him. O how shee is bedawb'd with painting!

Peace, peace, you Villaine; she is my Aunt. Run, run (you rascall) and open the doore. Well, it is an old saying, and I perceiue, as true, The fish leaps out of the panne, and falls into the fire. And a man thinking to shunne one danger, runnes into another, worse then the former. For I thinking to keep close this matter from Parmeno, (on whose neck, either out of loue, faithfulnesse, or feare, Reason hath laid her reynes) I haue fallen into the displeasure of this woman, who hath no lesse power ouer my life, then Ioue himselfe.

Sir why doe you vexe your selfe? why grieue you? Doe you thinke, that in the eares of this woman, the name, by which I now call her doth any way sound reproachfully? Beleeue it not. Assure your selfe, she glories as much in this name, as oft as shee heares it, as you do, when you heare some voyce, Calisto to be a gallant Gentleman. Besides, by this is she commonly called, and by this Title is shee of all men generally knowne. If she passe along the streetes among a hundred women, and some one perhaps blurts out, See, where's the old Bawd; without any impatiency, or any the least distemper, shee presently turnes her selfe about, nods the head, and answers them with a smiling countenance, and cheerefull looke. At your solemne banquets, your great feasts, your weddings, your gossippings, your merry meetings, your funeralls, and all other assemblies whatsoeuer, where there is any resort of people, thither doth shee repaire, and there they make pastime with her. And if shee passe by where there be any dogs, they straightway b • ke out this name; If shee come amongst birds, they haue no other note but this; If she sight vpon a flocke of sheepe, their bleatings proclaime no lesse; If she meet with beasts, they bellow forth the same: The frogges that lie in ditches, croake no other tune; Come shee amongst your Smithes, your Carpenters, your Armourers, your Ferriers, your Brasiers, your Ioyners: why, their hammers beate all vpon this word. In a word, all sorts of tooles and instruments returne no other Eccho in the ayre; your Shoomakers sing this song; your Combe-makers joyne with them, your Gardeners, your Plough-men, your Reapers, you Vine-keepers passe away the paine fulnesse of their labours, in making her the subject of their discourse; your Table-players, and all other Gamesters neuer lose, but they peale foorth her prayses: To be short, be she wheresoeuer she be, all things whatsoeuer are in this world, repeate no other name but this: O what a deuourer of rosted egges was her husband? What would you more? Not one stone that strikes against another, but presently noyseth out, Old whore.

I shall tell you Sir, how I know her: It is a great while ago, since my mother dwelt in her Parish, who being intreated by this Celestina, gaue me vnto her to wait vpon her, though now she know me not, growne out perhaps of her remembrance; as well by reason of the short time I abode with her, as also through the alteration which age hath wrought vpon mee.

I went into the market place, and fetch't her vitailes; I waited on her in the streetes, and supplyed her wants in other the like seruices, as farre as my poore sufficiency, and slender strength was able to performe. So that though I continued but a little while with her, yet I remember euery thing as fresh, as if it were but yesterday, in so much that old-age hath not been able to weare it out. This good honest whore, this graue matrone, forsooth, had at the very end of the Citty, there where your Tanners dwell, close by the waterside, a lone house, somewhat far from neighbours, halfe of it fallen downe, ill contriued, and worse furnished. Now, for to get her liuing, yee must vnderstand, shee had sixe seuerall Trades: shee was a Laundresse, a Persumeresse, a Former of faces, a Mender of crackt maiden-heads, a B •• d, and had some smatch of a Witch; Her first Trade was a cloak to all the test; vnder color wherof, being withall a piece of a Sempstresse, many young wenches that were of your ordinary sorts of seruants, came to her house to worke: some on smockes, some on gorgets and many other things: but not one of them that came thither, but brought with her either bacon, wheate, flower, or a Iar of wine, or some other the like prouision, which they could conueniently steale from their Mistresses, and some other thefts of greater quality, making her house (for shee was the receiuer, and kept all things close) the Rendeuous of all their Roguery: she was a great friend to your Students, Noble mens Ca • erers, and Pages: To these shee sold that innocent blood of these poore miserable soules, who did easily aduenture their virginities, drawne on by faire promises, and the restitution and reparation which she would make them of their lost maiden-heads. Nay, shee proceeded so far, that by cunning meanes, she had accesse and communication with your very Vestalls, and neuer left them, till shee had brought her purpose to passe. And what time do you think she chose when she would deale with any of these? At the time of their chiefest ceremonies; as when they kept their most mysterious celebration of the feasts of their Vesta, nay, and that most strictly solemnized day of Bona Dea, where it is death to admit men: euen then by vnheard of disguises, she had her plots and proiects effectually working vpon them, to the vtter abolition of their vowes and virginity. Now, what thinke you, were the trades and marchandise wherein she dealt? She professed her selfe a kinde of Phisician, and fained that shee had good skill in curing of little children: Shee would goe and fetch flaxe from one house, and put it forth to spinning to another, that she might thereby haue pretence for the freer accesse vnto all: One would cry, Here mother: and another, There mother: Look, saies the third, where the old woman comes: Yonder comes that Bel-dame so well knowne to all. Yet notwithstanding all these her cares, troubles, and trottings to and fro, being neuer out of action, she would neuer misse any great meeting, any religious processions, any Nuptials, Loue-ties, Balls, maskes or games whatsoeuer; They were the onely markets, where she made all her bargaines. And at home in her owne house shee made perfumes, false and counterfait Storax, Beniamin, Gumme, Anime, Amber, Ciuit, Powders, Muske and Mosqueta: Shee had a chamber full of Limbecks, little vialls, pots, some of earth, some of glasse, some brasse, and some tinne, formed in a thousand fashions. Shee made sublimated Mercury, boyled confections for to clarifie the skinne, waters to make the face glister, paintings, some white, some vermillion, lip-salues, scarlet-dy'd cloathes, fitted purposely for women to rub their faces therewith, oyntments for to make the face smooth, lustrifications, clarifications, pargetings, fardings, waters for the morphewes, and a thousand other slibber slabbers: Some made of the lees of wine, some of daffadills, some of the barkes and rindes of trees, some of Scar-wolfe, otherwise called Cittibush, or Trifolium, some of Taragon, some of Centory, some of sowre grapes, some of Must, or new wine taken from the presse, first distilled, and afterwards sweetned with sugar. Shee had a tricke to supple and refine the skin with the juice of Lemmons, with Turpentine, with the marrow of Deere, and of Heron-shawes, and a thousand the like confections: shee distilled sweet-waters, of Roses, of Flowers, of Oranges, of Iesmine, of three-leafed Grasse, of Woodbine, of Gilly-flowers, incorporated with Muske and Ciuit, and sprinkled with wine: shee made likewise Lees, for to make the 〈◊〉 turne yellow, or of the colour of Gold; and this shee comp •• d of the sprigs of the Vine, of Holme, of Rye, of Horehound intermixt with Salt-peter, with Allum, Mill-foyle, which some call Y ••• ow, or Nose-bleed, together with diuers other things. The oyles, the butters, and the greases which shee vsed, it is lothsome to tell you, and would turne your stomacke: as of Kine, Beares, Horses, Ca •• e • s, Snakes, Conyes, Wha • es, Herons, Bittours, Bucks, Cats of the mountaines, Badgers, Squirrells, Hedge-hogges and others. For her preparatiues for bathings, it is a wonderfull thing to acquaint you with all the hearbes and rootes which were ready gathered and hung vp a-high in the roofe of her house: as Ca • romill, Rose-mary, Marth-mallowes, Maiden-haire, Blue-bottle, Flowers of Elder, and of Mustard, Spike and white Laurell, buds of Roses, Rosecakes, Gramenilla, Wild-Sauory, Green figs, Picodorae, and Folia-tinct. The oyles which she extracted for the face, it is incredible to recount, of Storax and of Iesmine, of Lēmons, of Apple-kernels, of Violets, of Ben • uy, of Fistick-nuts, of Pine-apple kernels, of Grape-stores, of Iujuba, of Axenuz or M • lanthien, of Lupines, of Pease, of Carilla, and Paxarera; and a small quantity of Balsamum she had in a little viall, wherwith she cured that scotch giuen her ouerthwart her nose. For the mending of lost maiden-heads, some shee holpe with little bladders, and other some she stitch't vp with the needle: shee had in a little Cabbinet, or painted workeboxe, certain fine small needles, such as your Glouers sowe withall, and threds of the slenderest & smallest silke, rubb'd ouer with wax: she had also roots hanging there of Folia-Plasme, Fuste-sanguinio, Squill or Sea-Onion, and ground Thistle. With these she did work wonders; and when the French Embassadour came thither, shee made sale of one of her wenches, three seuerall times for a virgin.

Beleeue mee (Sir) it is true as I tell you. Besides, out of charity forsooth, she relieued many Orphanes, and many straggling wenches, which recommended themselues vnto her. In another partition, she had her knacks for to help those that were loue-sicke, and to make them to be beloued againe, and obtaine their desires. And for this purpose, shee had the bones that are bred in a Stagges heart, the tongue of a Viper, the heads of Quailes the braines of an Asse, the kalls of young Coltes, when they are new foaled, the bearing cloth of a new-borne babe, Barbary beanes, a Sey-Compasse, A Horne-fish, the halter of a man that hath beene hang'd, Iuse berries, the prickles of a Hedge-hogge, the foote of a Badger, Fearne-seed, the stone of an Eagles nest, and a thousand other things. Many both men and women came vnto her: of some she would demand a piece of that bread where they had bit it: of others, some part of their apparell: of some, shee would craue to haue of their hayre: others, she would draw characters in the palmes of their hands with Saffrom; with othersome she would doe the same with a kinde of colour, which you call Vermilion: to others she would giue hearts made of waxe, and stucke full of broken needles; and many other the like things, made in clay, and some in lead, very fearefull, and ghastly to behold: shee would draw circles, portraite foorth figures, and mumble many strange words to her selfe, hauing her eyes still fixed on the ground. But who is able to deliuer vnto you those things that she hath done? And all these were meere mockeries and lyes.

Parmeno, hold thy hand; thou hast said inough; what remaineth, leaue it till some fitter opportunity. I am sufficiently instructed by thee, and I thanke thee for it; Let vs now delay them no longer, for necessity cuts off slackenesse. Know thou, that shee comes hither requested, and wee make her stay longer then stands with good manners. Come, let vs goe, lest she be offended, and take it ill. I feare, and feare makes me more and more thinke vpon her, quickens my memorie, and awakens in me a more prouident carefulnesse how I communicate my selfe vnto her. Well, let vs goe, and arme our selues as well as we can against all inconueniences. But I pray thee Parmeno, let me intreat thee, that the enuy thou bearest vnto Sempronio, who is to serue and pleasure me in this businesse, be not an impedimēt to that remedy, wheron no lesse then the safety of my life relyeth. And if I had a doublet for him, thou shalt not want a Mandillion. Neither thinke thou, but that I esteeme as much of thy counsell and aduice, as of his labour and paines; and as bruite beasts (we see) doe labour more bodily then men, for which they are well respected of vs, and carefully lookt vnto; but yet for all this, we hold them not in the nature of friends, nor affect them with the like loue: the like difference doe I make betweene thee and Sempronio. And laying aside all power and dominion in my selfe, vnder the priuie-Seale of my secret loue, signe my selfe vnto thee for such a friend.

Sir, it grieues mee not a little, that you should seeme doubtfull of my fidelity, and faithfull seruice, which these your faire promises and demonstrations of your good affection, cannot but call into question and iealousie. When (Sir) did you euer see my enuy prooue hurtfull vnto you? Or when for any interest of mine own, or dislike, did I euer shew myselfe crosse, to crosse your good, or to hinder what might make for your profit?

Take it not offensiuely, not mis-conster my meaning▪ for assure thy selfe, thy good behauiour towards mee, and thy faire carriage, and gentle disposition, makes thee more gracious in mine eies, then any, nay, then all the rest of my seruants. But because in a case so difficult and hard as this, not only all my good, but euen my life and wholly dependeth; it is needfull that I should in all that I am ab • e, prouide for my selfe; and therefore seeke to arme my selfe in this sort as thou see'st, against all such casualties, as may indanger my desire; howsoever, perswade thy selfe, that thy good qualities, as farre excell euery naturall good, as euery naturall good excelleth the artificiall, from whom it hath it's beginning. But of this, for this time no more; but let vs now goe and see her, who must work out well fare.

Soft: me thinkes I heare some body on the stayres; they are now comming downe: Sempronio, make as though you did not heare them: stand close, and litten what they say; and let me alone to speake for vs both. And thou shalt see how I and somely I will handle the matter, both for thee and mee.

Trouble mee no more, I say, leaue importuning me; for to ouercharge one, who is heauy enough already laden with paine, and •• uish, were to spurre a sicke beast. Alas, poore soule, mee thinkes 〈◊〉 so possessed with thy Masters paine, and so affected with his affliction, that Sempronio seemes to be Calisto; and Calisto, to be Semp • onio; and that both your torments are both but in one and the same subiect. Besides, I would haue you thinke, that I came not hither to leaue this controuersie vndecided, but will dye rather in the demand and pursuite of this my purpose, then not see his desire accomplished.

Parmeno, stay, stay awhile, make no noyse; stand still I pray thee, and listen a little what they say. So, hu • h, that we may see in what state wee liue; what wee are like to trust to, and how the world is like to goe with vs. O notable woman! O worldly goods, vnworthy to be possessed by so high a spirit! O faithfull, and trusty Sempronio! Hast thou well obseru'd him (my Parmeno?) Hast thou heard him? Hast thou noted his earnestnesse? Tell me, haue I not reason to respect him? What saist thou, man? Thou that art the Clozet of my secrets, the Cabinet of my Counsell, and Councell of my soule?

Protesting first my innocency for your former suspition, and cumplying with my fidelity, since you haue giuen me such free liberty of speech, I will truly deliuer vnto you what I thinke. Heare mee therefore, and let not your affection make you deafe, nor hope of your pleasure blinde you; haue a little patience, and be not too hasty; for many through too much eagernesse to hit the pin • e, haue shot farre beside the white. And albeit I am but young, yet haue I seene somewhat in my dayes: besides, the obseruation and fight of many things, doe teach a man much experience. Wherefore, assure your selfe, and thereon I durst pawne my life, that they ouerheard what wee said, as also our comming downe the stayres, and haue of set purpose fallen into this false and feyned expression of their great loue and care, wherein you now place the end of your desire.

Be silent: For I sweare by my haly-doome, that whither comes the Asse, thither also shall come the saddle. Let mee alone to deale with Parmeno, and you shall see, I will so temper him e'r I haue done with him, that I will make him wholly ours. And see what wee gaine, hee shall share with vs: for goods that are not common, are not goods; It is communication that makes combination in loue: and therefore let vs all gaine, let vs all deuide the spoile, and let vs laugh and be merry all alike. I will make the slaue so tame, and so gentle, that I will bring him like a bird to picke bread from my first. And so we will be two to two, and all three joyne to coozen the fourth. Thou and I will ioyne together, Parmeno shall make a third, and all of vs cheate Calisto.

What art thou doing, thou that art the key of my life? Open the doore. O Parmeno! now that I see her, I feele my selfe well, me thinks, I am now aliue againe: See what a reuerend Matrone it is: What a presence she beares, worthy respect! A man may now see, how for the most part, the face is the Index of the mind. O vertuous old age! O inaged vertue • O glorious hope of my desired end! O head, the all ayer of my passion! O relieuer of my torment, and viuification of my life, resurrection from my death! I desire to draw neer vnto thee, my lips long to kisse those hands, wherein consists the fulnesse of my recouery; but the vnworthinesse of my person debars mee of so great a fauour. Wherefore I heere adore the ground whereon thou treadest, and in reuerence of thee, bow downe my body to kisse it.

Sempronio; Can faire words make me the fatter? Can I liue by this? Those bones which I haue already gnawne, does this foole thy Master thinke to feede mee therewith? Sure the man dreames; when he comes to frye his egges, he will then finde what is wanting. Bid him shut his mouth, and open his purse: I missedoubt his words, much more his works. Holla, I say; are you so ticklish? I will curry you for this geare, you lame Asse: you must rise a little more early, if you meane to goe beyond me.

Woe to these eares of mine, that euer they should heare such words as these. I now see, that hee is a lost man, who goes after one that is lost. O vnhappy Calisto, deiect wretch, blind in thy folly, and kneeling on the ground, to adore the oldest, and the rottennest piece of whorish earth, that euer rub'd her shoulders in the Stewes! He is vndone, he is ouerthrowne horse and foote, hee is fallen ino a trap, whence he will neuer get out; hee is not capable of any redemption, counsell, or courage.

Wat said my mother? It seemeth vnto mee, that shee thinkes I offer words for to excuse my reward.

Come then with mee, bring the keyes with you, and thou shalt see, I will quickely put her out of that doubt.

In so doing, you shall doe well, Sir. Let vs goe presently: for it is not good to suffer weeds to grow amongst corne, not suspition in the hearts of our friends, but to root it out streight with the weed-hooke of good workes.

Beleeue me (Parmeno) I am very glad, that we haue lighted on so fit an opportunity, wherein I may manifest and make knowne vnto thee the singular loue, wherewithall I affect thee; and what great interest (though vndeseruedly) thou hast in me, I say vndeseruedly, in regard of that, which I haue heard thee speake against me: whereof I make no more reckoning, but am content to let it passe. For, vertue teacheth vs to suffer temptations, and not to render, euill for euill; and especially when wee are tempted by young men, such as want experience, and are not acquainted with the courses of the world, who out of an ignorant and foolish kinde of loyalty, vndoe both themselues and their Masters, as thou thy selfe dost, Calisto. I heard you well inough, not a word you said, that escaped mine care. Nor do you think, that with these my other outward senses, old age hath made me lose my hearing; for not onely that which I see, heare, and know, but euen the very inward secrets of thy heart and thoughts, I search into, and pierce to the full with these my intellectuall eyes, these eies of my vnderstanding. I would haue thee to know (Permeno) that Calisto is loue-sicke, sicke euen to the death. Nor art thou for this, to censure him to be a weak and foolish man: for vnresistable loue subdueth all things. Besides, I would haue thee to know, if thou knowst it not already, that there are these two conclusions, that are euermore infallibly true. The first is, that euery man must of force loue a woman, and euery woman loue a man. The second is, that he who truely loues, must of necessity be much troubled & mou'd with the sweetnes of that superexcellent delight, wch was ordain'd by him that made all things, for the perpetuating of mankind, without which, it must needs perish: and not only in humane kind, but also in fishes, birds, beasts, & all creatures that creepe and crawle vpon the earth; Likewise in your soules vegetatiue, some plants haue the same inclination & disposition, that without the interpositiō of any other thing, they be planted in some little distance one of another, and it is determined and agreed vpon by the generall-consent of your Gardeners, and husband-men, to be Make and Female. How can you answer this, Parmeno? Now my pretty 〈◊〉 foole, you mad wagge, my soules sweet Genius, my Pea • le, 〈…〉 well, my honest poore silly Lad, my pretty little Monky-face, come hither you little whoreson; Alack, how I pitty thy simp • licity! thou knowst nothing of the world, nor of it's delights. Let me run mad, and dye in that fit, if I suffer thee to come neere me, as old as I am. Thou hast a harsh and ill fauourd hoarse voyce, by thy brizzled beard, it is easily guest what manner of man you are. Tell mee, is all quiet beneath? No motions at all to make in Venus Court?

Nay, mother, be quiet: hold your peace, I pray. Doe not blame me; and doe not hold mee, though I am but young, for a foole. I loue Calisto, tyed thereunto out of that true and honest fidelity, which euery seruant owes vnto his Master; for the breeding that he hath giuen me, for the benefit which I receiue from him, as also because I am well respected, and kindely intreated by him, which is the strongest chaine, that linkes the loue of the seruant to the seruice of his Master: As the contrary is the breaking of it. I see hee is out of the right way, and hath wholly lost himselfe; and nothing can befall a man worse in this world, then to hunt after his desire, without hope of a good and happy end; especially, he thinking to recouer his game (which himselfe holdeth so hard and difficult a pursuite) by the vaine aduice, and foolish reasons of that beast Sempronio, which is all one, as if he should goe about with the broade end of a Spade, to dig li • le wormes out of a mans hand. I hate it. I abhorre it. It is abominable: and with griefe I speake it I doe much lament it.

Knowst thou not, Parmeno, that it is an absolute folly, or meere simplicity to bewaile that, which by wayling cannot bee holpen?

And therefore doe I wayle, because it cannot be holpen: For if by wayling and weeping, it were posible to worke some remedy for my Master, so great would the contentment of that hope be, that for very ioy, I should not haue the power to weepe. But because I see all hope thereof to be vtterly lost, with it haue I lost all my ioy, and for this cause doe I weepe.

Thou weepest in vaine for that, which cannot by weeping be auoyded; thou canst not turne the istreame of his violent passion; and therefore maist truly presume that he is past all • re, Tell mee (Parmeno) hath not the like happened to others, as well as to him?

Yes. But I would not haue my Master through mourning and grieuing, languish, and grow sicke.

Thy Master is well inough. He is not sicke: and were hee neuer so sicke, neuer so much payned and grieued, I my selfe am able to cure him. I haue the power to doe it.

I regard not what thou saist. For in good things, better is the Act, then the Power: And in bad things, better the Power, then the Act. So that, it is beter to be well, then an the way to bee well. And better is the possibility of being sicke, then to be sicke indeed: and therefore, Power in ill, is better then the Act.

O thou wicked villaine! How Idly dost thou talke, as if thou didst not vnderstand thy selfe? It seemes thou dost not know his disease; What hast thou hitherto said? What wouldst thou haue? What is't that grieues you, Sir? Why lamentest thou? Be you dispos'd to jest, and make your selfe merry? or are you in good earnest, and would'st faine face out truth with falsehood? Beleeue you what you list; I am sure hee is sicke, and that in Act, and that the Power to make him whole, lyes wholly in the hands of this weake old woman.

Now the Hang-man be thy ghostly father, my little rascall, my pretty villaine; how dar'st thou be so bold with me?

Who? marry, I am Parmeno, sonne to Alberto thy gossip, who liu'd some little while with thee; for my mother recommended mee vnto thee, when thou dwelt'st close by the riuers side in Tanners row.

Now the fire of the pockes consume thy bones; for thy mother was an old whore, as my selfe: Why dost thou persecute me, Parmeno? It is he in good truth, it is hee. Come hither vnto mee; come I say; many a good jerke, and many a cuffe on the eare haue I giuen thee in my daies, and as many kisses too. A you little rogue, dost thou remember, sirrha, when thou lay'st at my beds feet?

Passing well: and sometimes also, though I was then but a little Apish boy, how you would take me vp to your pillow, and there lye hugging of me in your armes; and because you sauour'd somewhat of old age, I remember how I would fling and flye from you.

A pocks on you for a rogue. Our (impudent!) art thou not ashamed to talke thus? But to leaue off all jesting, and to come to plaine earnest; Heare me now (my childe) and hearken what I shall say vnto thee. For, though I am called hither for one end, I am come for another. And albeit I haue made my selfe a stranger vnto thee, and as though I knew thee not, yet thou wast the onely cause that drew mee hither. My sonne, I am sure thou art not ignorant, how that your mother gaue you vnto me, your father being then aliue; who, after thou wentst from me, dyed of no other griefe, saue onely what she suffered for the vncertainty of thy life and person. For whose absence in those latter yeeres of her elder age, she led a most painefull, pensiue and carefull life. And when the time came, that she was to leaue this world, shee sent for mee, and in secret recommended thee vnto me, and told me, (no other witnesse being by, but heauen the witnesse to 〈◊〉 our workes, our thoughts, our hearts, whom she alone interpo • e betweene her and mee) that of all loues I should doe so much 〈◊〉 , as to make inquirie after thee, and when I had found thee, 〈◊〉 thee vp, & foster thee as mine own: and that as soon as thou 〈◊〉 come to mans estate, & wert able to know how to gouern thy selfe, and to liue in some good manner and fashion; that then I should discouer vnto thee a certain place, where, vnder many a lock and key, she hath left thee more store of Gold and Siluer, then all the reuenewes come to, that thy Master Calisto hath in his possession. And because I solemnly vow'd, and bound my selfe by promise vnto her, that I would see her desire, as far foorth as lay in me, to be well and truely performed, she peacefully departed this mortall life; and though a mans faith ought to be inuiolably obserued both to the liuing and the dead, yet more especially to the dead; for they are not able to doe any thing of themselues, they cannot come to me, and prosecute their right here vpon earth. I haue spent much time & mony in inquiring & searching after thee, & could neuer till now heare what was become of thee: and it is not aboue three daies since, that I first heard of your being, and where you abode. Verily, it hath much grieued me, that thou hast gon trauelling, & wandring throughout the world, as thou hast done from place, to place, losing thy time, without either gaine of profit, or of friends. For, (as Seneca saith) Trauellers haue many ends, and few friends. For, in so short a time they can neuer fasten friendship with any: and hee that is euery where, is said to be no where. Againe, that meat cannot benefit the body, which is no sooner eaten, then eiected. Neither doth any thing more hinder it's health, then your diuersities, and changes of meates. Nor doth that would come to be healed, which hath daily change of tents, and neuer plasters. Nor doth that Tree neuer proue, which is often transplanted and remoued from one ground to another. Nor is there any thing to profitable, which at the first sight bringeth profit with it▪ Therefore (my good sonne) leaue off these violencies of youth, and following the doctrine, and rule of thy Ancestors, returne vnto reason, settle thy selfe in some one place or other. And where better, then where I shal aduise thee, taking mee, and my counsell along with thee, to whom thou art recommended both by thy father and mother? And I, as if I were thine owne true mother, say vnto thee, vpon those curses and maledictions, which thy parents haue laid vpon thee, if thou should'st be disobedient vnto me, that yet a while thou continue heere, and serue this thy Master which thou hast gotten thee, till thou hearest further from mee, but not with that foolish loyalty, and ignorant honesty, as hitherto thou hast done; thinking to finde firmenesse vpon a false foundation, as most of these Masters now a daies are. But doe thou gaine friends, which is a durable and lasting commodity; sticke closely and constantly vnto them; doe not thou liue vpon hopes, relying on the vaine promises of Masters, who sucke away the substance of their seruants, with hollow-hearted, and idle promises, as the horse-leaches suck bloud; and in the end fall off from them, wrong them, grow forgetfull of their good seruices, and deny them any recompence or reward at all. Wo be vnto him that growes old in Court. The Masters of these times loue more themselues then their seruants; neither in so doing doe they doe amisse. The like loue ought seruants to beare vnto themselues. Liberality was lost long agoe; rewards are growne out of date; magnificence is fled the countrie; and with her, all noblenesse. Euery one of them is wholly now for himselfe, and makes the best hee can of his seruants seruice, seruing his turne, as hee findes it may stand with his priuate interest and profit. And therefore they ought to doe no lesse, sithens that they are lesse then they in substance, but to liue after their law, and to doe as they doe. My sonne Parmeno, I the rather tell thee this, because thy Master (as I am informed) is (as it seemeth▪ likewise vnto mee) a Rompenecios, one that befooles his seruants, and weares them out to the very stumps, lookes for much seruice at their hands, and makes them small, or no recompence: He will looke to be serued of all, but will part with nothing at all. Weigh well my words, and perswade thy selfe, that what I haue said is true: Get thee some friends in his house, which is the greatest, and preciousest Iewell in the world. For, with him thou must not thinke to fasten friendship. A thing seldome seene, where there is such difference of estate and condition, as is betweene you two. Opportunity, thou seest, now offers her selfe vnto vs, on whose fore-top, if wee will but take hold, wee shall all of vs be great gainers, and thou shalt presently haue something, wherewithall to help thy selfe. As for that which I told you of, it shall bee well and safely kept, when time shall serue; in the meane while, it shall be much for thy profit, that thou make Sempronio thy friend.

Celestina, my hayre stands an end to heare thee, I tremble at thy words; I know not what I should doe, I am in a great perplexity. One while I hold thee for my mother, another while Cal • sto for my Master, I desire riches, but would not get them wrongfully; for, hee that rises by vnlawfull meanes, falls with greater speed, then he got vp. I would not for all the world thriue by ill gotten gaine.

Marry, Sir, but so would I: right, or wrong, so as my house may be raised high inough, I care not.

Well, wee two are of contrary minds. For, I should neuer liue contented with ill gotten goods; for I hold cheerefull pouerty, to be an honest thing. Besides, I must tell you, that they are not poore, that haue little, but they that desire much; And therefore say all you can, though neuer so much, you shall neuer perswade me in this, to be of your beliefe. I would faine passe ouer this life of mi • e without enuy: I would passe thorow solitary woods and wildernesses without feare: I would take my sleepe without ••• rtings: I would auoyd iniuries, with gentle answers: indure violence without reuiling: and brooke oppression by a resolute resistance.

O my sonne! it is a true saying; that Wisdome cannot be but onely in aged persons. And thou art but young.

But tell mee, I pray thee, whom doth fortune more aduance, then those that be bold and venturous? Besides, who is hee, that comes to any thing in a Common-wealth, who hath resolued with himselfe to liue without friends? But (heauen be thanked) thou hast wealth inough of thine owne, yet thou knowest not what neede thou maist haue of friends for the better keeping of them. Nor do thou think, that this thy inwardnesse with thy Master can any way secure thee. For the greater a mans fortune is, the lesse secure it is; and then most ticklish, when most prosperous. And therefore, to be armed against misfortunes, we must arme our selues with friends. And where canst thou get a fitter, neerer, and better companion in this kinde, then where those three kinde of friendships doe concurre in one? To wit, goodnesse, profit, and pleasure. For goodnesse; behold the good will of Sempronio, how agreeable, and conformable it is to thine: and with it, the great similiancy, and suteablenesse, which both of you haue in vertue: For profit; That lyes in this hand of mine, if you two can but agree together: For pleasure, That likewise is very likely. For now you are both in the prime of your yeeres, young and lusty, and fit for all kinde of sports and pleasures whatsoeuer; wherein young men, more then old folks, do ioyne and linke together: as in gaming, in wearing good clothes, in iesting, in eating, in drinking and wenching together. O Parmeno! if thou thy selfe wouldst, what a life might wee leade? Euen as merry as the day is long. Sempronio, hee loues Elteia, Kinsewoman to Areusa.

Well, now I know thy minde, let me alone. Heer's my hand; I will giue her thee. Thou shalt haue her; Man, she is thine owne, as sure as a Club.

Nay soft mother, you shall giue mee leaue not to beleeue you; I trust no body with my faith.

He is vnwise, that will beleeue all men; And hee is in an errour, that will beleeue no man.

I said, that I beleeue thee, but I dare not be so bold. And therefore let me alone.

Alas, poore silly wretch; faint-hearted is hee that dares not venture for his good. Ioue giues nuts to them, that haue no teeth to cracke them. And beanes to those, that haue no iawes to chew them. Simple as thou art, thou maist truely say, Fooles haue fortune: for it is commonly seene, that they who haue least wisedome haue most wealth: and that they who haue the most discretion, haue the least meanes.

O Celestina; I haue heard old men say, that one example of luxury or couetousnesse, does much hurt, And that a man should conuerse with those that may make him better; and to forsake the fellowship of those whom hee thinkes to make better. As for Sempronio, neyther by his example shall I be won to be vertuous; nor he by my company be with-drawne from being vicious. And suppose that I should incline to that which thou saist, I would faine know this one thing of thee, how by example faults may bee concealed. And though a man ouercome by pleasure, may goe against vertue; yet notwithstanding, let him take heed how hee spot his honesty.

There is no wisdome in thy words; For, without company, there is no pleasure in the possession of any thing. Doe not thou then draw backe, doe not thou torment and vexe thy selfe. For, Nature shunnes whatsoeuer fauours of sadnesse; and desires that which is pleasant and delightsome. And delight is with friends, in things that are sensuall; but especially in recounting matters of loue, and communicating them, the one to the other. This did I do my selfe; this such a one told me; such a iest did wee breake; in this sort did I winne her; thus often did I kisse her: thus often did shee bite me; thus I imbraced her; thus came wee neerer and neerer. O what speech, what grace▪ what sport, what kisses! Let vs goe thither, Let vs returne hither, Let vs haue musick, Let vs paint Motto's, Let vs sing songs, Let vs inuent some pretty deuices; Let vs tilt it; What shall be the Impresse? What the letter to it? Tomorrow shee will walke abroad; Let vs round her streete; Read this her Letter; Let vs goe by night; Hold thou the ladder; Guard well the gate; How did shee escape thee? Looke, where the Cuckold her husband goes; I left her all alone; Let vs giue another turne; Let vs goe backe againe thither. And is there any delight (Parmeno) in all this, without company? By my say, by my say, they that haue tryall can tell you, that this is the delight, this is the onely pleasure; As for that other thing you wot of, your Asses haue a better, and can doe better then you, or the best of you all.

I would not, mother, that you should draw mee on by your pleasing perswasions to follow your aduice, as those haue done, who wanting a good foundation to build their opinion on, haue inuited and drawne men to drinke of their heresies, sugring their cup with some sweet kinde of poyson, for to catch and captiuate the wills of weake • minded men, and to blinde the eyes of their reason, with the powder of some sweet-pleasing affection.

What is reason, you foole? What is affection, you Asse? 〈◊〉 (which thou hast not) must determine that; And 〈…〉 giues the vpper hand to prudence; and prudence cannot be 〈◊〉 without experience; and experience cannot bee found but in old folks, and such as are well strucken in yeeres. And therefore wee are called fathers, and mothers; and good parents doe alwayes giue their children good councell: as I more especially now doe thee; whose life and credit, I preferre before mine owne. And when, or how, canst thou be able to requite this my kindenes • e? For, Parents and Tutors can neuer receiue any recompence, that may equall their desert

I am very iealous and suspicious of receiuing this doubtfull councell. I am afraid to venture vpon it.

Wilt thou not entertaine it? Well, I will then tell thee, Hee that wilfully refuseth councell, shall suddenly come to destruction. And so (Parmeno) I rid my selfe of thee, as also of this businesse.

My mother (I see) is angry; and what I were best to do, I know not. I am doubtfull of following her councell: it is as great an errour to beleeue nothing, as it is to beleeue euery thing. The more humane and ciuill courie is, to haue affiance and confidence in her. Especially in that, where besides the present benefit, both profit and pleasure is proposed. I haue heard tell; that a man should beleeue his betters, and those whose yeers carry authority with them. Now; What is it she aduiseth me vnto? To be at peace with Sempronio: and to peace, no man ought to be opposite. For blessed are the peacefull. Loue and charity towards our brethren, that is not to be shunned and auoided by vs; and few are they, that will forgoe their profit. I will therefore seeke to please her, and hearken vnto her. Mother, a master ought not be offended with his Schollers ignorance; at least, very seldome in matters of depth and knowledge. For though knowledge in its owne nature, be communicable vnto all, yet is it infused but into few. And therefore I pray pardon me, and speake a new vnto me; For, I will not only heare and beleeue thee, but receiue thy councell as a singular kindnesse, and a token of thy great fauour, and especiall loue towards mee. Nor yet would I, that you should thanke mee for this; Because the praise and thankes of euery action, ought rather to be attributed to the giuer then to the receiuer. Command mee therefore; for to your commandements shall I euer be willing, that my consent submit it selfe.

It is proper to a man to erre; but to a beast, to perseuere in an errour. It doth much glad me, Parmeno, that thou hast clear'd thosee thicke clouds, which darkened thy eye-sight, and hast answered mee according to the wisedome, discretion, and sharpe wit of thy father, whose person, now representing it selfe fresh to my remembrance, doth make my tender eyes to melt into teares, which thou feest in such abundance to trickle downe my cheeks. He sometimes would maintaine hard and strange propositions, but would presently (such was the goodnesse of his nature) see his errour, and imbrace the truth▪ I sweare vnto thee; that in thus seeing thee to thwart the truth, and then suddenly vpon it, laying down all contradiction, and to be conformable to that which was reason; me thinks, I doe as liuely now behold thy father: as if he now were liuing, and present heere before mee. O what a man he was, how proper in his person, how able in his actions, what a part did he beare, and what a venerall and reuerend countenance did hee carry! But hush, I heare Calisto comming, and thy new friend, Sempronio, whose reconcilement with him, I referre to some fitter opportuni • y. For, two liuing in one heart, are more powerfull both for action, and vnderstanding.

Deare mother, I did much doubt, considering my misfortunes, to finde you aliue: but maruaile more, considering my desire, that my selfe come aliue vnto you. Receiue this poore gift of him, who with it offers thee his life.

As in your finest gold, that is wrought by the hand of your cunningest and curiosest Artificer, the workemanship oftentimes doth farre surpasse the matter: So the fashion of your faire liberality doth much exceed the greatnesse of your gift. And questionlesse, a kindnesse that is quickely conferr'd, redoubles it's effect; for hee that slacketh that, which he promiseth, seemeth in a manner to deny it, and to repent himselfe of his promised fauour.

As thou wilt thy selfe. Yet for all this, mee thinkes I am still afraid.

No more. Be silent. I feare mee, I shall make thee twice as much afraide, e'r I haue done with thee.

Now fie vpon it. I perceiue there can be no greater plague, nor no greater enemy to a man, then those of his owne house.

Now mother, goe your wayes get you home and cheere vp your owne house; and when you haue done that, I pray hasten hither, and cheere vp ours.

Now that I am all alone, I will, as I walke by my selfe, weigh and consider that which Sempronio feared, concerning my trauell in this businesse. For, those things which are not well weighed, and considered, though sometimes they take good effect, yet commmonly fall out ill. So that much speculation brings foorth much good fruit; for although I dissembled with him, and did set a good face on the matter, it may be, that if my drift and intent should chance to be found out by Melibea's father, it would cost me little lesse then my life: Or at least, if they should not kill me, I should rest much impaired in my credit, either by their tossing me in a blanket, or by causing me to be cruelly whipt; so that my sweet meats shall haue sowre sauce: and my hundred Crownes in Gold be purchast at too deare a rate; Ay wretched me • into what a Labyrinth haue I put my selfe? What a trap am I like to fall into, through mine owne folly? For that I might shew my selfe solicitous and resolute, I haue put my selfe vpon the hazard of the dice. Wo is me; what shall I doe? To goe backe, is not for my profit; and to goe on, stands not with my safety. Shall I persist? or shall I desist? In what a straite am I? In what a doubtfull and strange perplexity? I know not which I were best to choose. On my daringnesse dependeth manifest danger; on my cowardize shamefull damage. Which way shall the Oxe goe, out he must needs plough? Euery way, goe which way I will, discouers to my eyes deepe and dangerous furrowes; desperate downefalls; if I be taken in the manner; if the theft be found about me, I shall be either kill'd, or carted, with a paper-crowne set vpon my head, hauing my fault written in great Text-letters. But in case I should not goe, what will Sempronio then say? Is this all thou canst doe? Thy power, thy wisedome, thy stoutnesse, thy courage, thy large promises, thy faire offers, thy tricks, thy subtilties, & the great care (forsooth) thou wouldst take; What? are they all come to this? And his Master Calisto, what will he say? what will hee doe? or what will hee thinke? saue onely this; That there is much deceit in my steps; and that I haue discouered this blot to Pleberio, like a preuaricating Sophistresse, or cunning Ambi-dexter, playing the traitour on both sides, that I might gaine by both? And if he doe not entertaine so hatefull a thought, he will raile vpon me like a mad-man; he will vpbraid mee to my face, with most reproachful termes; He will propose a thousand inconueniences, which my hasty deliberation was the cause of; saying, Out you old whore; Why didst thou increase my passions with thy promises? False Bawd as thou art; For all the world besides, thy feete can walke, for mee onely thy tongue; Others can haue works; I only words. Others can haue remedy at thy hands; I onely the man that must endure torment. To all others, thy force can extend it selfe; and to me is it only wanting. To all others thou art Light; to me Darkenesse. Out thou old tretcherous, disloyall wertike; Why didst thou offer thy selfe and seruice vnto me? For, it was thy offer that did put mee in hope: and that hope did delay my death, prolonged my life, and did put vpon mee the Title of a glad man. Now, for that thy promises haue not prou'd effectuall, neither shalt thou want punishment, nor I wofull despaire: so that, looke I on which side I will (miserable man that I am) it is ill here, and it is ill there; paine & griefe on either hand: But when extremes shall want their meane, and no meanes to auoide either the one or the other; of two cuils, it is the wiser course to incline to the lesser. And therefore I had rather offend Pleberio, then displease Calisto. Well then, I will goe. For greater will my shamebe, to be condemned for a Coward, then my punishment, in daring to accomplish what I promised. Besides, Fortune still friendeth those that are bold and valiant. Lo, yonder's the gate; I haue seene my selfe in greater danger then this in my daies, Coraggio, Coraggio, Celestina; Be of good cheere; Be not dismay'd; For, there are neuer suitors wanting for the mitigating, and allaying of punishment. All Diuinations are in my fauour, and shew themselues prospicious in my proceedings; or else I am no body in this my Art, a meere bungler, an Idiot, an Asse. Of foure men that I meete by the way, three of them were Ihon's; whereof two were Cuckolds. The first word that I heard, passing along the street, was a Loue-complaint. I haue not stumbled since I came foorth, as at other times I vsed to doe. • e thinkes the very stones of the streete did sunder themselues one from another, to giue me way as I past. Nor did the skirts of my clothes wrumple vp in troublesome folds, to hinder my feet. Nor do I feele any faintnesse, or wearinesse in my legs. Euery one saluteth mee. Not a dog that hath once barked at me; I haue neither seene any bird of a black feather, neither Thrush, nor Crow; nor any other of the like vnlucky nature; and which is a better signe of good lucke then all these, yonder doe I see Lucrecia, standing at Melibea's gate, which is kinsewoman to Elicia: it cannot but goe well with vs; it is impossible wee should misse of our purpose; All is Cocke-sure.

What old witch is this, that comes thus trayling her taile on the ground? Looke how shee sweepes the streetes with her gowne? Fie, what a dust shee makes?

Mother Celestina, you be welcome. What wind, I trow, driues you this way? I doe not remember, that I haue seene you in these parts this many a day. What accident hath brought you hither?

My loue (daughter, my loue) and the desire I haue to see all my good friends; and to bring you commendations from your Cousin Elicia: as also to see my old and young Mistresse, whom I haue not seene since I went from this end of the Towne.

Is this your onely errand from home? Is it possible, you should come so farre for this? I promise you, you make me much to maruell; For I am sure you were not wont to stirre your stumps, but you knew wherefore; nor to goe a foote forth of doores, vnlesse it were for your profit.

What greater profit (you foole) would you haue, then a man to cumply with his desires? Besides, such old women as we neuer want businesse: especially my selfe, who hauing the breeding of so many mens daughters as I haue, I goe to see if I can sell a little yarne.

Did not I tell you so before? I wote well what I said; you neuer put in a penny, but you take out a pound: Be your paines neuer so little, you will be sure you will be well paid for it. But to 〈◊〉 that passe, my old mistresse hath begunne a web; shee hath need to buy it, and thou hast neede to sell it. Come in, and stay heere awhile, you and I will not fall out.

Lucrecia, who is that you talke withall?

With that old woman forsooth, with the scotch on her nose, who sometimes dwelt hard by here in Tanners Row, close vpon the Riuer-side.

Now I am further to seeke then I was before; if thou wilt giue mee to vnderstand an vnknowne thing, by a thing that is lesse knowne, is to take vp water in a Sieue.

Madame! Why, this old woman is better knowne then the hearbe Rew. Doe not you remember her that stood on the Pillory for a Witch? That sold young wenches by the great and by wh • le sale? and that hath mard many thousands of marriages, by sundring man and wife, and setting them at oddes?

What Trade is she of? What is her Profession? it may be, by that I shall know her better.

Fosooth, she persumes Calls, Vailes, and the like; she makes your sublimate Mercury, and hath some thirty seuerall Trades besides; shee is very skilfull in hearbs; shee can cure little children: And some call her, The old woman, The Lapidary, for her great dealing in stones.

All this makes me neuer a whit the wiser. Tell mee her name, i • thou • nowst it.

If I knew it? Why, there is neither young nor old in all this City, but knowes it. And should not I then know it?

Goe too, you foole; Tell mee her name; Doe not anger mee by this your delay.

Hi, hi, hi! Now beshrew your fingers; O my heart! O my sides! I am not able to stand for laughing, to see that the lothing which thou hast of this poore old woman, should make thee ashamed to name her vnto me. Now I call her to minde; Goe too; you are a wagge; No more of this. Shee (poore soule) is come to begge somewhat of mee. Bid her come vp.

My good Lady; All blessings abide with you, and your noble daughter. My many griefes and infirmities haue hindred my visiting of this your house, as in duty I was bound to doe; But heauen knowes how faire are the intralls of my inward affection, how free from any spot of foulnesse. It knowes the sincerity of my heart, and trunesse of my loue. For, distance of place displaceth not that loue, which is lodged in the heart: So that what heeretofore in my selfe I did much desire, now my necessity hath made mee to performe. And amongst other my many Crosses and miseries in this life, my Crosses in my purse grow dayly lesse and lesse; so that I haue no better remedy to helpe my selfe withall, and to relieue this my poore estate, then to sell this little parcell of yarne of mine owne spinning to make Coyfes, and Kerchiefes; and vnderstanding by your maid, that you had need thereof (howbeit I am poore in euery thing, I praise my fate, saue the richnesse of this grace) it is wholy at your command, if either it or I may doe you any seruice.

Honest neighbour, thy discourse and kinde offer moue me to compassion: and so moue me, that I had rather light vpon some fit occasion, whereby I might supply thy wants, then diminish thy web, still thanking thee for thy kinde offer: and if it be such as will serue my turne, I shall pay you well for it.

Madame, by my life, as I am true old woman, or by any other oath you shall put me to, it is such, as all the whole Towne is not able to match it. Looke well vpon it; it is as fine as the haire of your head, euen and equall, as nothing more strong, as the strings of a Viall; white as a flake of Snow, spun all with mine owne fingers; reeled and wound vp with mine owne hands. Looke you (Lady) on some of the same in skaines; Did you euer see better? Three Royals, as I am true woman, I receiued no longer agoe then yesterday for an ounce.

Daughter Melibea, I will leaue this honest woman with you; For mee thinks it is now high time, if I haue not stayed too long, to goe visit my sister, Wife vnto Chremes: for I haue not seene her since yesterday; and besides, her Page is now come to call mee, and tels me that her old fit hath already beene on her this pretty while.

Now does the Diuell goe preparing opportunity for my Stratagem, by re-inforcing this sickenesse vpon the other. Goe on, my good friend, stand stifly to your tackling; be strong and shrinke not. For now is the time or neuer; see you leaue her not: and remooue away this woman from mee. But soft; I feare shee heares mee.

I say (Madame) Curst be the diuell and my euill Fortune, that your sisters sicknesse is growne now vpon her in such an vnlucky houre, that we shall haue no fit time to dispatch our businesse: But I pray, what is her sicknesse?

A paine in her side, which takes her in such grieuous manner, that if it be true which her Page tels me, I feare me it will cost her her life. Good neighbour, let mee intreate you for my sake to recommend her recouery vnto your best deuotions and prayers.

Heere (Lady, I giue you my faithfull promise, that as soone as I goe hence, I will hyemee to my Vestalls, where I haue many deuout virgins, my friends, vpon whom I will lay the same charge as you haue laid vpon mee.

Doe you heare, Melibea? Content our neighbour, and giue her that which is reason for her yarne. And you mother, I pray hold me excused, for I doubt not, but you and I shall haue another day, when wee shall haue more leysure to enioy one another.

Madame, there is no neede of pardon, where there is no fault committed. Ioue pardon you, and I doe. For I thanke you, you haue left mee heere with very good company. Ioue grant shee may long enioy her noble youth, and this her flourishing prime; a time wherein more pleasures and delights are found, then in this old decaye. Carkasse of mine, which is nothing else but a very Spittle-house of diseases, an Inne full of infirmities, a Store-house, or Magazine of sad and melancholy thoughts, a friend to brangling and brawling, a continuall griefe, and incurable plague: pittying that which is past, punished in that which is present: and full of wretched care in that which is to come: A neere neighbour vnto death; a poore Cabbin, without one bough of shelter, whereinto it raynes on all sides; a sticke of Willow; a staffe of weake Osiers, which is doubled with any the least stresse you put it to.

Tell me (mother) why doe you speake so ill of that, which the whole world so earnestly desireth to enioy and see?

They desire so much their more hurt; they desire so much their more griefe; they desire to liue to be old; because by liuing to be old, they liue. And life (you know) is sweete; and liuing, they come to be old. Hence is it, that your children desire to be men; and your men to be old men; and your old men, to be more and more old; and though they liue in neuer so much paine, yet doe they still desire to liue. For, (as it is in the Prouerbe) Faine would the Henne liue, for all her pip; she would not be put out of her life, to be put out of her paine. But who is hee (Lady) that can recount vnto you the inconueniences of old age? The discommodities it brings with it? it's torments, it's cares, it's troubles, it's infirmities, it's colds, it's heates, it's discontentments, it's brawles, it's janglings, it's griefes, which like so many weights lye heauy vpon it? Those deepe furrows and deepe wrinkles in the face? That change and alteration in the hayre? That fading of fresh and liuely colour? That want of hearing? That weaknesse of sight? That hollownesse in the eyes? Seeing, as if they were shut vp in a shade? That sinking and falling of the iawes? That toothlesnesse of the gummes? That failingnesse of force and of strength? That feeblenesse of legs? That slownesse in feeding? Besides, (Madame) which makes mee sigh to thinke vpon it, when all these miseries I haue told you of, come accompanied with pouerty, all sorrowes to this must stoope and strike saile, when the appetite shall be great, and the prouision small; The stomack good, and the dyet naught; For I neuer knew any worse habit, then that of hunger.

I perceiue, so goes the market, as it goes with you. And as you find your penniworths, so you speake of the Faire. And though you perhaps complaine, the rich will sing another song.

Me thinks, mother, it should be a great griefe vnto you, to thinke vpon those good daies of yours, which are past and gone. Would you not be willing to runne them ouer againe?

That Trauellour (Lady) were a foole, who hauing tyred out himselfe with a hard dayes trauell, would, to begin his iourney againe, desire to returne to the same place, from whence hee came. For all those things, whose possession is no whit pleasing, it is better to inioy them as they are, then to desire their longer stay. For then are they so much the neerer to their end, by how much the farther they are from their beginning. Nor is there any thing in the world more sweet, or more pleasing to him that is truely weary, then his Inne, wherein hee may rest himselfe. So that though youth be a thing very io • und, yet hee that is truly old, doth not desire it. But he indeed that wants reason and true vnderstanding, that man in a manner loues nothing else, but the daies that are past and gone.

Were it but onely to liue, it is good to desire that which I say.

As soone (Lady) dies the young Lambe as the old Sheep; they goe both to the shambles together; there is no man so old, but hee may liue one yeere more; nor no man so young, but hee may dye to day: so that in this you haue little, or no aduantage of vs.

Thou hast scarr'd mee with thy words; thy reasons put mee in remembrance that I haue seene thee heeretofore. Tell me (mother) art not thou Celestina, that dwelt in Tanners Row, neere the Riuer?

By my fay you are an old woman. Well, I see it is a true saying; That daies goe not away in vaine. Now (neuer trust mee) I did not know you; neither should I, had it not been for that slash ouer your face; then were you fayre, now wonderfully altered.

She changed? Hi, hi, hi! the diuell she is: shee was faire when she met with him (sauing your reuerence) that scotcht her ouer the nose.

What saist thou foole? Speake, what is't thou-saist? What laugh'st thou at?

Madame, Take you hold on time, that it slip not from you. As for my complexion, that will neuer change: haue you not read what they say? The day will come, when thou shalt not know thy selfe in a glasse? Though I am now growne gray before my time, and seeme double the yeeres I am of; of foure daughters which my mother had, my selfe was the youngest. And therefore, I am sure, I am not so old as you take me to be.

Friend Celestina, I am very glad both to see and know thee; and I haue taken great pleasure in thy discourse. Heere, take your money and fare-well; for thou lookest (poore soule) as if thou hadst eaten nothing all this day.

O more then mortall image! O precious pearle! How truely haue you guest? O! with what a grace doe thy words come from thee? I am rauisht hearing thee speake. But yet it is not only eating, that maintaineth a man or woman; especially me, who vse to be fasting a whole, nay, two dayes together, in soliciting other folkes businesses. For, I intend no other thing, my whole life is nothing else; but to doe good offices for the good, and (if occasion serue) to dye for them. And it was euermore my fashion, rather to seeke trouble to my selfe by seruing of others, then to please and content my selfe. Wherefore, if you will giue me leaue, I will tell you the necessitated cause of my comming, which is another manner of matter then any you haue yet heard; and such as we were all vndone, if I should returne in vaine, and you not know it.

Acquaint mee (mother) with all your necessities and wants, and if I can helpe you in them, or doe you any good, I shall willingly doe it, as well out of our old acqaintance, as out of neighbour-hood, which in good and honest mindes, is a sufficient bond to tye them thereunto.

My wants, Madame? My necessities doe you meane? Nay, others (as I told you) not mine. For mine owne, I passe at home with my selfe in mine owne house, without letting the whole Country to know them: Eating when I may, and drinking when I can get it. For, for all my pouerty, I neuer wanted a penny to buy me bread, nor a Quarte, that is, the eighth part of sixe pence to send for wine, no, not in all this time of my widdow-hood. For before, I neuer tooke thought for any, but had alwaies a good Vessell still in my house. And when one was empty, another was full. I neuer went to bed, but I did first eat a toast well steept in wine, and two dozen of draughts, sipping still the wine after euery sop, for feare of the Mother, wherwith I was then wont to be troubled. But now, that I husband all things my self, and am at mine own finding, I am faine to fetch my wi • e in a little poore Iarre, which will scarce hold a pot • le. And sometimes in punishment of my sinnes (which Crosse I am willing to beare) I am forced to goe sixe times a day with these my siluer hayres about my shoulders, to fill and fetch my wine my selfe at the Tauerne. Nor would I by my good will dye, till I see my selfe haue a good Rundlet or Terse of mine owne within mine owne dootes. For (on my life) there is no prouision in the world like vnto it. For as the saying is; It is bread and wine, not the young man that is spruce and fine, that makes vs rid the way, and trauell with mettle; yet let me tell you, that where the good man is missing, all other good is wanting. For ill does the spindle mooue, when the beard does not wagge aboue. And this I thought good to tell you by the way, vpon those speeches which I vsed concerning others, and not mine owne necessities.

Aske what thou wilt, be it either for thy selfe, or any body else, whom it pleaseth thee.

My most gracious and courteous Lady, descended of high and noble parentage; your sweet words, and cheerefull gesture, accompanyed with that kinde and free proffer, which you are pleased to make to this poore old woman, giues boldnesse to my tongue, to speak what my heart euen longeth to vtter. I come lately from one, whom I left sicke to the death, who onely with one word, which should come from your noble mouth, & intrusted in this my bosome to carry it hence with me, I verily assure my selfe, it will saue his life, so great is the deuotion which he beares to your gentle disposition, and the comfort he would receiue by this so great a kindenesse.

All feare fled (faire Lady) in beholding your beauty For, I cannot be perswaded, that Nature did paint in vaine one face fairer then another, more inrich't with grace and fauour, more fashionable, and more beautifull then another; were it not to make them Magazines of vertue, mansions of mercy, houses of compassion and pitie, Ministers of her blessings, and dispensers of those good gifts and graces, which in her bounty shee hath bestowed vpon them, and vpon your selfe in a more plentifull manner. Besides, sithence wee are all mortall, and borne to dye; as also, that it is most certaine, that hee cannot bee said truely to be borne, who is onely borne for himselfe; for then should men be like vnto bruite beasts, (if not worse;) Amongst which, there are some, that are very pitifull: as your Vnicorne, of whom it is reported, that hee will humble and prostrate himselfe at the feet of a Virgin. And your dogge, for all his fiercenesse, and cruelnesse of nature, when hee comes to bite another, if hee throw himselfe downe at his feet, hee will let him alone, and doe him no harme; and this is all out of pitie. Againe, to come to your birds, and fowles of the ayre; your Cocke eateth not any thing, but hee first calleth his Hens about him, and giues them part of his feeding. The Pellicane, with her beake breaketh vp her owne brest, that she may giue her very bowels and intrals to her young ones to eat. The Storkes maintaine their aged parents as long in the nest, as they did giue them food, when they were young and vnable to helpe themselues. Now, if God and Nature gaue such knowledge vnto beasts and birds; why should wee that are men, be more cruell one to another? Why giue we not part of our graces, and of our persons, to our neighbors? Especially when they are inuolued and afflicted with secret infirmities, and those such, that where the Medicine is, thence was the cause of the maladie?

For Gods loue, without any more dilating, tell me who is this sicke man, who feeling such great perplexity, hath both his sicknes and his cure, flowing from one, and the selfe-same Fountaine?

You can not choose (Lady) but know a young Gentleman in this City, nobly descended, whose name is Calisto.

Inough, inough; No more (good old woman;) Not a word, not a word more, I would aduise you. Is this the sicke patient, for whom thou hast made so many prefaces to come to thy purpose? For what, or whom cam'st thou hither? Cam'st thou to seeke thy death? Know'st thou for whom (thou bearded Impudent) thou hast troden these dangerous steps? What ayles this wicked one, that thou pleadest for him with such passion? He is foolesicke, is hee not? Is hee in his wits, I trow? What would'st thou haue thought, if thou should'st haue found me without some suspicion and iealousie of this foole? What a wind-lace hast thou fetcht, with what words hast thou come vpon me? I see it is not said in vaine; That the most hurtfull member in a man, or woman, is the tongue. I will haue thee burned, thou false Witch, thou enemy to honesty, thou Causeresse of secret errors; Fie vpon thee Filth; Lucrecia, out of my sight with her, send her packing; away with her I pray, she makes me ready to swound: ay me, I faint, I dye; she hath not left me one drop of bloud in my body. But I well deserue this, and more, for giving eare to such a paltry huswife as shee is. Beleeue me, were it not, that I regarded mine honour, and that I am vnwilling to publish to the world his presumptuous audaciousnesse and boldnesse, I would so handle thee (thou accursed Hagge) that thy discourse, and thy life, should haue ended both together.

In an ill houre came I hither. If my spels and coniuration faile mee. Goe to, goe to; I wot well inough to whom I speake. This poore Gentleman, this your brother, is at the poynt of death, and ready to dye.

Darest thou yet speake before mee? and mutter words between thy teeth, for to augment my anger, & double thy punishment? Wouldst thou haue me soyle mine honour, for to giue life to a foole, to a mad man? Shall I make my selfe sad, to make him merry? Wouldst thou thriue by my losse? And reape profit by my perdition? And receiue remuneration by my error? Wouldst thou haue me ouerthrow, and ruine my fathers house and honour, for to raise that of such an old rotten Bawd as thou art? Dost thou thinke, I doe not perceiue thy drift? That I doe not track thee step by step? Or that I vnderstand not thy damnable errand? But I assure thee, the reward that thou shalt get thereby, shall be no other, saue (that I may take from thee all occasion of farther offending heauen) to giue an end to thy euill dayes. Tell me (Traitor as thou art) how didst thou dare to proceed so farre with mee?

My feare of you (Madame) doth interrupt my excuse; but my innocency puts new courage into me: your presence againe disheartens me, in seeing you so angry. But that which grieues and troubles me most, is, that I receiue displeasure without any reason, and am hardly thought on without a cause. Giue mee leaue (good Lady) to make an end of my speach, and then will you neither blame it, nor condemne me; then will you see, that I rather seek to doe good seruice, then indeauour any dishonest course; and that I do it more to adde health to the Patient, then to detract any thing from the fame and worth of the Physician. And had I thought that your Ladiship would so easily haue made this bad construction out of your late noxious suspicion, your licence should not haue beene sufficient warrant to haue imboldened me to speake any thing, that might concerne Calisto, or any other man liuing.

Let mee heare no more of this mad man, name not this foole vnto mee; this leaper ouer walls; this Hob-goblin; this night-walker; this phantasticall spirit; long-shanked, like a Stork; in shape and proportion, like a picture in Arras, that is ill-wrought; or an ill-fauour'd fellow in an old sute of hangings; Say no more of him, vnlesse you would haue mee to fall downe dead where I stand. This is hee who saw mee the other day, and beganne to court mee with I know not what extrauagant phrases, as if hee had not beene well in his wits, professing himselfe to be a great Gallant. Tell him (good old woman) if hee thinke that I was wholy his, and that he had wonne the field, because it pleased me rather to consent to his folly, then correct his fault, and yeeld to his errand, then chastise his errour; that I was willing rather to let him goe like a foole as hee came, then to publish this his presumptuous enterprize. Moreouer, aduise him, that the next way to haue his sicknesse leaue him, is to leaue off his louing, and wholy to relinquish his purpose, if he purpose to impart health to himselfe; which if he refuse to doe, tell him from mee, that he neuer bought words all the daies of his life at a dearer rate. Besides, I would haue him know, that no man is ouercome, but he that thinks himselfe so to be. So shall I liue secure, and he contented. But it is euermore the nature of fooles, to thinke other like themselues. Returne thou with this very answer vnto him; for other answer of me shall he none, nor neuer hope for any: for it is but in vaine to intreat mercy of him, of whom thou canst not haue mercy. And for thine owne part, thou maist thanke God, that thou scapest hence scot-free; I haue heard inough of you heeretofore, and of all your good qualities, though it was not my hap to know you.

Troy stood out more stoutly, and held out longer. And many fiercer Dames haue I tamed in my dayes; Tush? No storme lasteth long.

You mine enemy, what say you? Speake out, I pray, that I may heare you. Hast thou any thing to say in thy excuse, whereby thou maist satisfie my anger, and cleare thy selfe of this thy errour and bold attempt?

Whilest your choler liues, my cause must needes dye. And the longer your anger lasteth, the lesse shall my excuse be heard. But wonder not that you should be thus rigorous with mee: For a little heate will serue to set young bloud a boyling.

Little heate, say you? Indeed thou maist well say little; because thy selfe yet liues, whilst I with griefe indure thy great presumption. What words canst thou demand of me for such a one as he is, that may stand with my good? Answer to my demand, because thou sayst thou hast not yet concluded. And perhaps thou maist pacifie me for that which is past.

Mary, a certaine Charme, Madame, which (as hee is informed by many of his good friends) your Ladiship hath, which cureth the tooth-ache; as also that same admirable Girdle of yours, which is reported to haue beene found and brought from Cumae the Caue there, and was worne, 'tis thought, by the Sibilla, or Prophetesse of that place; which Girdle they say, hath such a singular and peculiar property and power, with the very tutch to abate and ease any ache or anguish whatsoeuer. Now this Gentleman I told you of, is exceedingly pained with the tooth-ache, and euen at deaths doore with it. And this was the true cause of my comming: But since it was my ill hap to receiue so harsh and vnpleasing an answer, let him still for me continue in his paine, as a punishment due vnto him, for sending so vnfortunate a messenger. For since in that muchnesse of your vertue I haue found much of your pity wanting; I feare mee, hee would also want water, should he send mee to the Sea to fetch it. And you know (sweet Lady) that the delight of vengeance, and pleasure of reuenge endureth but a moment, but that of pity and compassion continueth for euer and euer.

If this be that thou would'st haue, why did'st thou not tell me of it sooner? Why went'st thou about the bush with mee? What needed all those circumstances? Or why did'st thou not deliuer it in other words?

Because my plaine and simple meaning made me beleeue, that though I should haue propos'd it in any other words whatsoeuer, had they beene worse then they were, yet would you not haue suspected any euill in them. For, if I were failing in the fitnesse of my preface, and did not vse • o due and conuenient a preamble as I should haue done, it was, because truth needeth no colours. The very compassion that I had of his paine, and the confidence of your magnificency, did choake in my mouth, when I first beganne to speake the expression of the cause. And for that you know (Lady) that sorrow workes turbation, and turbation doth disorder and alter the tongue, which ought alwaies to be ty'de to the braine; for heauens loue, lay not the fault on me; and if he hath committed an errour, let not that redound to my hurt; for I am no farther blameable of any fault, then as I am the messenger of the faulty. Breake not the rope where it is weakest. Be not like the Cobweb, which neuer shewes it's force, but on poore little Flyes. No humane Law condemnes the father for the sonnes offence, nor the sonne for the fathers: nor indeed (Lady) is it any reason, that his presumption should occasion my perdition; though considering his desert, I should not greatly care, that hee should be the delinquent, and my selfe be condemned, since that I haue no other Trade to liue by, saue to serue such as hee is; This is my occupation, this I make my happinesse. Yet withall (Madame) I would haue you to conceiue, that it was neuer in my desire to hurt one, to helpe another, though behind mybacke, your Ladiship hath perhaps been otherwise informed of mee. But the best is, it is not the vaine breath of the vulgar, that can blast the truth; assuredly I meane nothing in this, but onely plaine and honest dealing. I doe little harme to any; I haue as few enemies in this City, as a woman can haue; I keepe my word with all men; and what I vndertake, I performe as faithfully, as if I had twenty feete, and so many hands.

I now wonder not, that your Ancients were wont to say; That one onely teacher of Vice, was sufficient to marre a great City. For I haue heard such and so many tales of thy false and cunning tricks, that I know not whether I may beleeue, thy errand was for this charme.

Neuer let me pray: or if I pray, let me neuer be heard, if you can draw any other thing from me, though I were to be put to a thousand torments.

My former late anger will not giue mee leaue to laugh at thy excuse. For I wot very well, that neither oath nor torment shall make thee to speake the truth. For it is not in thy power to doe it.

You are my good Lady and Mistresse, you may say what you list, and it is my duty to hold my peace; you must command, and I must obey, but your rough language (I hope) will cost your Ladiship an old petticoate.

If I haue not gain'd it with my tongue, I hope I haue not lost it with my intention.

Thou dost so confidently plead thy ignorance, that thou makest me almost ready to beleeue thee; yet will I in this thy so doubtfull an excuse, hold my sentence in suspence, and will not dispose of thy demand vpon the relish of so light an interpretation. Neither for all this would I haue thee to thinke much of it, nor make it any such wonder, that I was so exceedingly moued; For two things did concurre in thy discourse, the least of which was sufficient to make me runne out of my wits. First, in naming this Gentleman vnto me, who thus presumed to talke with me: then, that thou shouldst intreat me for him, without any further cause giuen; which could not but ingender a strong suspition of intention of hurt to my honor. But since all is well meant, and no harme intended, I pardon a • l that is past; for my heart is now somewhat lightned, sithence it is a pious, and a holy worke, to cure the sick, and helpe the distressed.

The Age, I pray; How long hath hee had it?

His age (Madame?) Mary, I thinke hee is about some three and twenty. For heere stands shee, who saw him borne, and tooke him vp from his mothers feet.

This is not that which I aske thee; Nor doe I care to know his age. I aske thee how long he hath beene troubled with his tooth-ache?

Some eight daies (Madame) but you would thinke he had had it a yeere, hee is growne so weake with it, and the greatest ease, and best remedy he hath, is, to take his Viall, whereto hee sings so many songs, & in such dolefull notes, that I verily beleeue, they did farre exceed those, which that great Emperor and Musician Hadrian composed concerning the soules departure from the body; the better to endure without dismayment, his approaching death. For though I haue but little skill in musicke, me thinks he makes the Viall, when he plaies thereon, to speake; and when hee sings thereunto, the birds with a better will listen vnto him, then to that Musician of old, which made the trees and stones to moue. Had he been borne then, Orpheus had lost his prey. Weigh then with your selfe (Sweet Lady) if such a poore old woman as I am, haue not cause to count my selfe happy, if I may giue life vnto him, to whom the heauens haue giuen so many graces? Not a woman that sees him, but praiseth Natures workemanship, whose hand did draw so perfect a piece; and if it bee their hap to talke with him, they are no more mistresses of themselues, but are wholy at his disposing; and of Commanders, desire to be commanded by him. Wherfore, seeing I haue so great reason to doe for him, conceiue (good Lady) my purpose to be faire and honest, my courses commendable, and free from suspicion and iealousie.

O how I am falne out with mine owne impatience! How angry with my selfe, that hee being ignorant, and thou innocent of any intended Ill; thou hast endured the distemperature of my inraged tongue? But the great reason I had for it, frees mee from any fault of offence, vrged thereunto by thy suspicious speaches: but in requitall of thy sufferance, I will forthwith fulfill thy request, and likewise giue thee my Girdle. And because I haue not leysure to write the charme, till my mother comes home, if this will not serue the turne, come secretly for it to morrow morning.

Now, now, is my Mistresse quite vndone. All the world cannot saue her; she will haue Celestina come secretly to morrow. I smell a Rat; there is a Padde in the straw; I like not this, Come secretly to morrow; I feare mee, shee will part with something more then words.

Mary, I say, Madame, you haue worded well. For it is now somewhat late.

I pray (mother) say nothing to this Gentleman of what hath passed betwixt you and mee, lest he should hold me either cruell, sudden, or dishonest.

I did not lye euen now; I see well inough how ill the world goes.

Madame, I much maruell you should entertaine any the least doubt of my seruice. Feare you not; for I can suffer, and couer any thing: and I well perceiue, that your great iealousie and suspicion of mee, made you (as commonly it doth) to interpret my speeches to the worst sense. Well, I will take my leaue, and goe hence with this Girdle so merrily, as if I did presently see his heart leaping for ioy, that you haue graced him with so great a kindnesse; and I doubt not, but I shall finde him much eased of his paine.

I will doe more for your sicke Patient then this, if need require, in requitall of your great patience.

Wee shall need more, and you must doe more then this, though perhaps you will not so well like of it, and scarce thanke vs for it.

Mary I say (Madame) That we both giue you thanks, that wee are both at your seruice; and rest both deepely indebted to your Ladiship; and that the paiment is there most certaine, where the party is most bound to satisfie.

Heere's Cat in the Panne. What Chop-Logicke haue we heere?

Daughter Lucrecia; Hold thy peace; Come hither to me. If to morrow I may see thee at my house, I will giue thee such a Lye, as shall make thy haire as yellow as gold; but tell not your Mistresse of it. Thou shalt also haue a powder of mee to sweeten thy breath, which is a little of the strongest. There is not any in this kingdome, that can make it but my selfe. And there is not any thing in a woman that can be worse then a stinking breath.

A blessing on your aged heart; for I haue more need of this, then of my meate.

And yet (you foole) you will be talking and prating against mee. Hold thy peace; for thou know'st not what need thou maist haue of mee. Doe not exasperate your Mistresse, and make her more angry now, then shee was before. But let mee goe hence in peace.

What sai'st thou to her, mother?

Nay, you must tell me what you said to her; for I cannot abide, that any body should speake any thing in my presence, and I not haue a part therein. And therefore, without any more adoe, let mee know it.

I intreated her to put your Ladiship in minde of the Charme, that it might be writ out ready for mee; and that shee should learne of mee to temper her selfe in the time of your anger, putting her in mind of that ancient Adage; From an angry man, get thee gone but for a while; but from an enemy, for euer. But you (Madame) had onely a quarell to those words of mine which you suspected, and not any enmity to my person. And say, they had bin such as you conceited them; yet were they not so bad, as you would haue made them to be. For it is euery daies experience, to see men pain'd & tormented for women; and women as much for men. And this, Nature worketh; and Nature (you know) is crafts master, and works nothing that is ill: So that my demand (you see) was (as my desire was it should be) in it selfe commendable, as having it's growth from so good a root. Many the like reasons could I render you, were not prolixity tedious to the hearer, and hurtfull to the speaker.

Thou hast showne a great deale of temper, as well in saying little, when thou saw'st mee angry, as also in thy great and singular sufferance.

Mad • me, I indured your chiding with feare, because I knew you were angry with reason. Besides, a fit of anger is but like a flash of lightning; which made me the more willing to giue way, till your heate were ouerpast.

This Gentleman is beholding vnto you, whom I recommend to your care.

Not so, Madame; His deserts challenge more at my hands. And if by my intreaties, I haue done him any good, I feare me, by my ouer long-stay, I haue done him as much harme. And therefore if your Ladiship will license me, I will haste to see how he does.

What good newes (mother?) speak (deare mother.)

O my good Lord and Master Calisto, How is it? how is it with you? O my new Louer (and not without iust cause) of fairest Melibea! How canst thou make this old woman amends, who hath hazarded her life in thy seruice? What woman was euer driuen to such narrow shifts? The very thought whereof, makes my heart to faint, emptying my vitall veynes of all their bloud. I would haue giuen my life for lesse then the price of this old tottred Mantle, which you see heere on my backe.

Thou art all (I see) for thy selfe. That is it thou shoot'st at. Thou art like a Lettice, that growes betwixt two Cole-worts; If thou be let alone, thou wil ouer-top them. The next word I look for, is, that she begge a Kirtle for her Mantle: thou art all (I perceiue) for thy selfe; and wilt not aske any thing, whereof others may haue part. The old woman will implume him, not leauing him so much as one feather; how cunningly does shee worke him? how craftly pitch her ne • s to catch me and my Master, seeking to make me faithlesse, and him foolish? Doe but marke her (Sempronis) be still, and giue her but the hearing, and you shall see, shee will not demand any money of my Master, because it is diuisible.

Peace, (thou despairefull fellow) lest Calisto kill thee, if he chance to heare thee.

Good mother, either cut off thy discourse, or take thou this sword and kill mee.

Now, what a Diuell ailes he? He shakes and quiuers like a fellow that hath had his senses ouer-toucht with quicke-siluer. Looke, hee cannot stand on his legges; would I could helpe him to his tongue, that I might heare him speake againe: sure, he cannot liue long, if this fft continue. Wee shall get well by this his loue, shall wee not? Euery man his mourning weed, and there's an end.

Your sword, Sir. Now I hope not: What? Take your sword and kill you? There's a word indeed to kill my heart. No; let your sword serue to kill your enemies, and such as wish you harme. As for mee, I will giue thee life, man, by that good hope, which I haue in her, whom thou louest best.

Good hope, mother?

I, good hope; and well may it be called so, since that the gates are set open for my second returne. And shall I tell you? she will sooner receiue me in this poore tottred Gowne and Kirtle, then others in their silks, and cloth of gold.

Sempronio, sow mee vp this mouth; for I can no longer hold. A pocks on her, she hath hedg'd in the Kirtle to her Gowne. Could not one alone haue contented her?

You will hold your peace, will you not? By Ioue you were best be quiet, or I shall set you hence in a diuels name. What? Is there no ho with you? Say she begge her apparell of him, what's that to thee? she does well in it; and I commend her for it, hauing such need thereof as she has. And thou know'st, Where the Flamin sings, there hath he his offrings, he must haue food and rayment.

True, he hath so; but as his seruice is, so is his allowance; he sings all the yeere long for it: and this old Iade would in one day, for treading some three steps, cast off all her rugged hayres, and get her a new coate; which is more then she could well doe these fifty yeeres.

Is this all the good she taught thee? Is all your old acquaintance come to this? Is this all the obligation you owe her for her paines in breeding you vp? Sure, she ha's brought her Hogges to a good market, in bestowing so great kindenesse on so very a Pigge.

I could be well content, that she should pill and pole, aske and haue, shaue & cut, but not cut out all the cloth fo • her own coat.

Mother, as you loue goodnesse, if you be a good woman, tell mee what was shee doing? How got you into the house? How was she apparelled? On which side of the house did you find her? What countenance did shee shew thee at thy first entrance? How did shee looke on thee?

With such a looke and countenance, as your braue fierce buls vse towards those that cast sharp darts against them, when they come for to be baited: or like your wilde bores, when they make towards those Mastiues which set vpon them.

Be these thy good hopes? These signes of health? What then are those that are mortall? Why, death it selfe could not be halfe so deadly. For that would ease and rid me of this my torment, then which none is greater, none more grieuous.

These are my Masters former fires; he renewes afresh his wonted flames: What a strange kind of man is he? He hath not the patience to stay to haere that which so earnestly hee hath desired.

Now Sir; Who talkes now? I must not speake a word; but did my Master heare you, he would cudgell your coat, as well as mine.

Some euill fire consume thee: for thou speakest prediudicially of all; but I offend no man. Let some intolerable mortall disease, or some pestilent plague seaze vpon thee, and consume thee; Thou quarrelsome, contentious, enuious, and accursed Caytiffe; Is this thy friendship, this the amity thou hast contracted with Celestina and me? Goe with the Diuels name, if this be thy loue.

If thou wilt not (thou that art sole Queene, and soueraigne of my life) that I dye desperate, and that my soule goe condemned from hence to perpetuall paine (so impatient am I of hearing these things) delay mee no longer, but certifie mee briefely, whether thy glorious demand had a happy end, or no? As also whether that cruell and sterne looke of that impious face, whose frownes murder as many as they are bent against, sorted to a gentle intertaining of thy suite? For all that I haue heard hitherto, are rather tokens of hate, then of loue.

The greatest glory, which is giuen to that secret office of the Bee, which little creature of nature, the discreeter sort ought to imitate, is, that whatsoeuer be toucheth, he conuerteth it into a better substance, then in it selfe it was. In like manner hath it so befalne mee, with those coy and squeamish speeches of Melibea, and all other her scornefull and disdainefull behauiours; all her sowre looks and words I turned into honey; her anger into mildenesse; her fury into gentlenesse; and her running from me, into running to mee. Tell me, man, What didst thou thinke Celestina went thither for? What would she make there, whom you haue already rewarded beyond her desert, vnlesse it were to pacifie her fury, to oppose my selfe to all accidents, to be your shield and buckler in your absence, to receiue vpon my mantle all the blowes that were strucke at you, to endure those reuilings, bitter tauntings, and those disdainfull termes, which, such as she is, vsually make show of, when they are first sued vnto for their loue. And why forsooth doe they this? Onely to the end, That what they giue, may the better be estemed; and therefore, they still speake worst of him, whom they loue best; and make a show of most dislike, where they like most. Which if it should not be so, there would be no difference between the loue of a common whore, and an honest Damsell that sta • is vpon her honour; if euery one should say yea, as soone as she is asked. And therefore, when they see a man loues them (though themselues burne, and fry in the liueliest flames of loue) yet for mo • esties sake, they will outwardly show a coldnesse of affection, a sober countenance, a pleasing kinde of strangenesse, a constant minde, a chaste intent, and powre forth words as sharpe as Vineger, that their owne tongues wonder at this their great sufferance, making them forcibly to confesse that with their mouthes, whose contrary is contained in their hearts. But because I would haue thee haue some ease of thy sorrowes, and take some repose, whilst I relate at large vnto thee all the words that passed betweene her and mee, and by what meanes I made my first entrance into Melibea's house; Know for thy comfort, that the end of her discourse was very good.

Now (deare mother) that you haue giuen mee assurance, that I may boldly with comfort expect the extremest vigour of her answer; say what thou wilt, and I shall be attentiue thereunto. Now my heart is at rest; now my thoughts are quiet; now my veynes receiue and recouer their lost bloud; now haue I lost my feare; now doe I finde some ioy; now am I cheerefull. Let vs (if it please you) goe vp; where, in my chamber you shall report that at full, which I haue heard in briefe,

With all my heart, Sir, Come, let vs goe.

O what starting holes does this foole seeke for to flye from vs, that he may, at his pleasure, weepe for ioy with Celestina, and discouer vnto her a thousand secrets of his light, and doting appetite! First, to aske her, I know not how oft of euery particular: and then haue her answer him to the same, sixe seuerall times one after another, and neuer to make an end, but ouer, and ouer, and ouer with it againe, hauing no body by to tell him how tedious he is; Fie vpon him, I am sick to think vpon it. Go your wayes (you foole) Get you vp with a murraine; but we will not stay long after you.

By selling a parcell of thread which I had; by which trick, I haue taken in my daies, more then thirty of as good worth and quality as her selfe, (So it pleased fortune to fauour mee in this world) and some better women, I wisse, and of greater rancke, were shee more honorable then shee is.

Greater (mother) perhaps in body, but not in noblenesse of birth, not in state, not in beauty, not in discretion, not in statelinesse, linked with gracefulnesse and merit, not in vertue, nor in speach.

Now the fooles steele beginnes to strike fire; now his bels beginne to iangle; marke how his clocke goes; it neuer strikes vnder twelue; the finger of his dyall point is still vpon high noone; all vpon the most. Sempronio, tell the clocke, keepe true reckoning, how standst thou gazing like a wide-mouthed driueling foole, hearing his fooleries, and her lies?

O thou venomous tongued Villaine; thou rayling Rascall; Why shouldst thou alone stop thy eares at that, to which all the world besides is willing to harken? And say they are but tales and fables which shee tels him; yet were it onely but for this, that their discourses are of loue, thou oughtst to lend them a willing attention.

Noble Calisto, Let thy eares be open to that which I shall tell thee, and thou shalt see what thy good fortune, and my great eare haue effected for thee. For, when I was about to pitch a price of my thread, and to sell it, Melibea's mother was called away to goe visit a sister of hers, that lay exceeding sicke: and because she could not stay with me her selfe (so necessary was her absence) she left Melibea to conclude the bargaine, and to driue such a price with mee, as shee should thinke fit.

O ioy beyond compare! O singular opportunity! O seasonable time! O that I had layne hid vnderneath thy mantle, that I might haue heard her but speake, on whom heauen hath so plentifully powred forth the fulnesse of his graces!

Vnder my mantle (noble Sir?) Alacke, poore soule as I am, what would you haue done there? Why, shee must needes haue seene you at least thorow thirty holes, should not fortune giue mee a better.

Well, I will get me gon; I say nothing, Sempronio; heare you all for mee: I will be hang'd, if the foole my Master doe not measure with his thoughts, how many steps there be betweene this and Melibea's house. And if hee not contemplate euery kinde of action and gesture shee might vse; as how she lookt, how she stood, when shee was bargaining for the thread: All his senses, all the powers & faculties of his soule are wholy taken vp, and possest with her: but he will finde in the end, that my counsell would haue done him more good, then all the cunning tricks, and coozenages of Celestina.

Whats the matter with you there? I am hearing of a cause, that concernes no lesse then my life; and you keepe a tattling and a prattling there (as you still vse to doe) to trouble and molest • me in my businesse, and prouoke me to anger: as you loue me, hold your tongues, and you will dye with delight; such pleasure will you take in the repetition of her singular diligence; Goe on (deare mother) what didst thou doe, when thou saw'st thou wast left all alone?

O Sir, I was so ouer-ioyed, that whosoeuer had seene me, might haue read in my face the merriment of my heart.

It is so now with mee; But how much more had a man beforehand conceiued some such image in his minde? But tell me, wast thou not strucken dumbe with this so sudden and vnexpected an accident?

No. But rather grew thereby the bolder to vtter my minde vnto her; it was the thing that I desired; it was euen as I would haue wisht it: There was nothing could haue fell out so pat for me, as to see my selfe all alone with her: then beganne I to open the very bowels and intralls of my heart; then did I deliuer my embassage, and told her in what extreme paine you liued, and how that one word of her mouth, proceeding fauourably from her, would ease you of your mighty torment. And as one standing in suspence, looking wisely and steadily vpon me, somewhat amazed at the strangenesse of my message, hearkning very attentiuely, till shee might come to know who this should be, that for want of a word of her mouth, liu'd in such great paine, and what manner of man he might be, whom her tongue was able to cure? In naming you vnto her, she did cut off my words, and with her hand strooke her selfe a blow on the brest, as one that had heard some strange and fearefull newes; charging mee to cease my prattle, and to get mee out of her sight, vnlesse I would her seruants should become my Executioners, and make short worke with me in these my old and latter dayes; aggrauating my audacious boldnesse; calling mee Witch, Sorceresse, Bawd, old Whore, false Baggage, bearded Miscreant, the Mother of mischiefe; and many other more ignominious names, wherewithall they feare children. And when she had ended with her Bugge-beares, shee beganne to fall into often swownings and trances, making many strange gestures, full of feare and amazement, all her senses being troubled, her bloud boyling within her, throwing her selfe this way and that way, bearing in a strange kind of manner the members of her body one against another; and then in a strong and violent fashion, being wounded with that golden shaft, which at the very voycing of your name, had struck her to the heart, writhing and winding her body, her hands and fingers being clinched one within another, like one struggling & striuing for life, that you would haue thought, shee would haue rent them asunder, hurling and rowling her eyes on euery side, striking the hard ground with her tender feete. Now, I all this while, stood me still in a co • ner, like a cloth that is shrunke in the wetting, as close as I could for my life, not saying so much as any one word vnto her; yet glad with all my heart, to see her in this cruell and pittifull taking. And the more her throwes and pangs were, the more did I laugh in my sleeue at it; because I thereby knew, her yeelding would be the sooner, and her fall the neerer: yet must I tell you, that whil'st her anger did foame out it's froth, I did not suffer my thoughts to be idle, nor giue them leaue to runne a wooll-gathering, but recollecting my selfe, and calling my wits about mee, I tooke hold on Times fore-top, and found a salue to heale that hurt, which my selfe had made.

Deare mother, thou hast told me that, which whil'st I was hearing thee, I had fore-casted in mine owne iudgement, I did still dreame it would come to this; but I doe not see how thou couldst light vpon a fit excuse, that might serue the turne, and proue good inough to couer and colour the suspition of thy demand; though I know, that thou art exceeding wise, and in all that thou dost (to my seeming) more then a woman. Sithence, that as thou didst prognosticate her answer, so didst thou in time prouide thee of thy reply. What could that Tuscane Champion (so much famoused thorowout all Italy) haue done more? Whose renowne (hadst thou then beene liuing) had beene quite lost; who three daies before shee dyed, diuined of the death of her old husband, and her two sonnes. Now doe I beleeue that, which is so commonly spoken; that a woman is neuer to seeke for an answer; and though it be the weaker Sexe, yet is their wit more quicke and nimble then that of men.

Say you me so, Sir? Well, let it be so then, I told her, your torment was the tooth-ache; and that the word which I craued of her, was a kinde of Prayer, or Charme, which she knew to be very good, and of great power against that paine.

O admirable craft! O rare woman in thy arte! O cunning creature! O speedy remedy! O discreet deliuerer of a message! What humane vnderstanding is able to reach vnto so high a meanes of helpe? And I verily perswade my selfe, that if our age might purchase those yeeres past, wherein Aeneas and Dido liu'd, Venus would not haue taken so much paines, for to attract the loue of Elisa to his sonne, causing Cupid to assume the forme of Ascanius, the better to deceiue her: but would (to make short worke of the businesse) haue made choyce of thee to mediate the matter: and therefore doe I hold my death happily imployed, since that I haue put it into such hands, and I shall euermore be of this minde, that if my desire obtaine not it's wished effect, yet know I not what could be done more, according to nature, for my good and welfare. What thinke you now my Masters? What can yee imagine more? Was there euer the like woman borne in this world? Had shee euer her fellow?

Sir, doe not stop me in the course of my speach. Giue me leaue to goe on, for night drawes on. And you know, Hee that does ill, hateth the light.

How? What's that? No, by no meanes; For heauens sake, doe not offer it, you shall haue Torches, you shall haue Pages, any of my seruants, make choyce of whom you will to accompany you home.

O yes, in any case! I pray take care of her; because she is young and handsome, and may chance to bee rauisht by the way. Sempronio, thou shalt goe with her, because shee is afraide of the Crickets, which chripe in the darke, as shee goes home to her house.

Sonne Parmeno, what's that thou said'st?

I said, Sir, it were meete, that I and Sempronio should accompany her home; For it is very darke.

It is well said, Parmeno: you shall by and by, proceed, I pray, in your discourse; and tell mee what farther past betweene you. What answer made she for the Charme?

Mary, that with all her heart I should haue it.

With all her heart? O Ioue! How gracious and how great a gift!

Nay, this is not all; I craued more then this.

What, my honest old woman?

Her Girdle, which continually she wore about her, affirming that it was very good for the allaying of your paine; because of some Supereminent Influence from the Sibilla Cumanae.

But what said shee?

Giue mee Albricias; reward me for my good newes, and I will tell you all.

Take my whole house, and all that is in it, on condition you tell me; or else besides what thou wilt.

Giue but this poore old woman a Mantle, and I will giue that into thy hand, which she weares about her.

What dost thou talke of a Mantle? Tut, a Kirtle, a Petticoate, any thing, all that I haue.

It is a Mantle that I need; that alone shall content me; Inlarge not therefore your liberality; Let not any suspectfull doubt interpose it selfe in my demand; My request is reasonable, and you know, it is a common saying; To offer much to him, that asketh but a little, is a kinde of deniall.

Runne, Parmeno, call hither my Taylour, and let him presently cut her out a Mantle and a Kirtle of that fine pure cloth, which hee tooke to cottening.

So, so; all for the old woman; because like the Bee, she comes home laden with lyes, as hee does with hony; as for mee, I may goe worke out my heart, and goe hang my selfe when I haue done; whilest shee with a pockes must haue euery day change of rayment.

Now the Diuell goe with him, with what an ill will does he goe? I thinke there is not any man liuing so ill seru'd as I am; maintaining men that deuise nothing but mischiefe, murmurers, grudgers of my good, repiners of my prosperity, and enemies to my happinesse. Thou Villaine, what goest thou mumbling to thy selfe? Thou enuious wretch, what is that thou sayst? for I vnderstand thee not. Doe as I command you, you were best, and that quickely too. Get you gone with a murraine, and vexe mee no more, for I haue griefe inough already to bring me to my graue. There will as much of the piece be left (which remnant you may take for your selfe) as will serue to make you a Ierkin.

I say nothing, Sir, but that it is too late to haue the Taylour for to come to night.

And haue not I told you, that I would haue you not diuine of things aforehand, but to doe as I bid you? Let it alone then till to morrow; and for you (mother) let me intreat you out of your loue to me, to haue patience vntill then; for that is not auferred, which is but deferred. Now I pray let me see that glorious girdle, which was held so worthy to ingirt so goodly a body, that these my eyes, together with the rest of my senses, may enioy so great a happinesse, since that together, they haue all of them beene a little affected with passion. My afflicted heart shall also reioyce therein, which hath not had one minute of delight, since it first knew that Lady. All my senses haue beene wounded by her, all of them haue brought whole basket-fulls of trouble to my heart. Euery one of them hath vexed and tormented it all they could; the eyes, in seeing her; the eares in hearing her; and the hands in touching her.

Ha; What's that? Haue you toucht her with your hands? you make me startle.

Dreaming of her, I say in my sleepe.

O! in your dreames; that's another matter.

In my dreames haue I seene her so oft, night, by night, that I feare mee, that will happen vnto mee, which befell Alcibiades, who dream'd that he saw himselfe inwrapped in his mistresses mantle, and was the next day murdred, and found none to remoue him from forth the common street, no, nor any to couer him, saue onely shee who did spread her Mantle ouer him. Though I, for my part, be it aliue, or dead, would any way bee glad to see my selfe clothed with any thing that is hers.

You haue punishment, Sir, inough already; for when others take their rest in their beds, thou preparest thy selfe to suffer thy next daies torment. Be of good courage, Sir. Plucke vp your heart: after a Tempest, followes a Calme; affoord thy desire some time; take vnto thee this Girdle: for if death preuent mee not, I will deliuer the Owner thereof into thy hands.

O new guest! O happy girdle! which hast had such power and worth in thee, as to hedge in that body, and be its inclosure, which my selfe am not worthy to serue. O yee knots of my passion, it is you that haue intangled my desires; Tell me, if thou wert present at that vncomfortable answer of fairest she, whom thou seruest, and I adore. And yet the more I torment my selfe for her sake, mourning and lamenting night and day, the lesse it auailes mee, and the lesse it profits me.

It is an old Prouerbe; He that labours least, often-times gets most. But I will make thee by thy labouring, to obtaine that which by being negligent, thou shouldst neuer atchieue. For Camora was not wonne in an houre; yet did not her besiegers for all this despaire. No more was Rome built in one day; nor Troy ruined in a yeere.

O vnfortunate that I am! For Citties are incircled, and walled in with stones; and stones by stones are easily ouer-throwne. But this my deare Lady hath her heart inuironed with steele; there is no mettle that can preuaile against her; no shot of that force▪ as to make a breach: and should Ladders bee reared to scale the walls, shee hath eyes which let flye darts of repulsion, and a tongue which dischargeth whole volleis of reproches, if you once approach, forceing you to stand farther off, and so inaccessible is her Castle, that you cannot come neere it by halfe a league.

No more, good Sir, no more; bridle your passion; for the stout courage, and hardy boldnesse of one man, did get Troy. Doubt not then, but one woman may worke vpon another, and at last win her vnto thee; thou hast little frequented my house, thou art ignorant of my courses, thou know'st not what I can doe.

Say, Mother, what thou wilt, and I will beleeue thee, since thou hast brought me so great a Iewell, as is this. O thou glorie of my soule, and incirler of so incomparable a creature; I behold thee, and yet beleeue it not. O girdle, girdle, thou louely lace! Wast thou mine enemy too? Tell me the truth; if thou wert, I forgiue thee: For it is proper vnto good men, to forgiue; but I doe not beleeue it. For hadst thou likewise beene my foe, thou wouldst not haue come so soone to my hands, vnlesse thou hadst come to disblame and excuse thy doings. I coniure thee, that thou answer mee truely, by the vertue of that great power, which thy Lady hath ouer mee.

Cease (good Sir) this vaine and idle humour; for my eares are tyred with attention, and the Girdle almost worne out with your often handling.

O wretch that I am! farre better had it beene for mee, had the heauens made me so happy, that thou hadst beene made and wouen of these mine owne armes, and not of silke, as now thou art, that they might haue daily reioyced in clasping and inclosing with due reuerence those members, which thou without sense or feeling, not knowing what it is to inioy so great a glory, holdest still in strict imbracements. O what secrets shouldst thou then haue seene of that so excellent an image?

Thou shalt see more, and inioy more, in a more ample and better manner, if thou lose it not by talking as thou dost.

Peace (good mother,) giue mee leaue a little; for this, and I, well vnderstand one another. O my eyes call to your remembrance, how that yee were the cause of my ill; and the very doore, thorow which my heart was wounded; and that he is seene to doe the hurt, who doth giue the cause of the harme. Call to your remembrance, I say, that yee are debtours to my well-fare. Looke here vpon your medicine, which is come home to your owne house to cure you.

Sir, it is not your reioycing in this girdle, that can make you to enioy Melibea.

How like a foole thou pratest, without eyther wit or reason? Thou disturber of my delight, what meanest thou by this?

Mary, that by talking, and babbling so much as you doe, you kill both your selfe, and those which heare you; and so by consequence, ouerthrow both thy life and vnderstanding; either of which to want, is sufficient to leaue you darkling, and say good night to the world. Cut off your discourse therefore, and listen vnto Celestina, and heare what she will say vnto thee.

Mother, are my words troublesome vnto you? or is this fellow drunke?

Howbeit they be not, yet should you not talke thus as you doe; but rather giue an end to these your long complaints. Vse a girdle like a girdle, that you may know to make a difference of your words, when you come to Melibea's presence; let not your tongue equall the apparell, with the person; making no distinction betwixt her, and her garments.

O my much honoured Matrone, my mother, my comfortresse! Let mee glad my selfe a little with this messenger of my glory. O my tongue! Why doest thou hinder thy selfe in entertaining any other discourse? leauing off to adore that present Excellency, which, peraduenture, thou shalt neuer see in thy power? O yee my hands! With what presumption, with what slender reuerence doe you touch that Treacle, which must cure my wound? Now that poyson cannot hurt mee, wherewith that cruell shot of Cupid hath it's sharpe point deepely indipped. For now I am safe, since that shee who gaue mee my wound, giues mee also my medicine. O deare Celestina! Thou that art the delight of all old Dames, the ioy of young wenches, the ease of the afflicted, and comfort of such comfortlesse wretches as my selfe; do not punish me more with feare of thee, then I am already punished with shame of my selfe; suffer me to let loose the reines of my contemplation; giue me leaue to goe foorth into the streets with this iewell, that they who see mee, may know, that there is not any man more happy then my selfe.

Doe not infistulate your wound, by clapping on it still more and more desire. Sir, it is not this string, nor this girdle alone, wherein your remedy must depend.

I know it well, yet haue I not the power to abstaine from adoring so great a relique? so rich a gift?

That's a gift, which is giuen gratis; but you know that shee did this for to ease your tooth-ache; and to cloze vp your wounds; and not for any respect or loue, which shee beares to you: But if I liue, shee shall turne the leafe, ere I leaue her.

But the Charme you talkt of?

Shee hath not giuen it mee yet.

And what was the cause why shee did not?

The shortnesse of time; and therefore will'd mee that if your paine did not decrease, I should returne to her againe to morrow.

Decrease? Then shall my paine decrease, when I see a decrease of her cruelty.

Sir, content your selfe with that, which hath hitherto bin said and done; shee is already bound, I haue shew'd you, how (as farreforth as shee is able) shee will be ready to yeeld you any helpe for this infirmitie of yours, which I shall craue at her hands. And tell me, I pray, if this bee not well for the first bowt. Well, I will now get me home; and in any case, haue a care, that if you chance to morrow to walke abroad, that you goe muzzled about the cheeks with a cloth, that she seeing you so bound about the chaps, may not accuse mee of petitioning a false-hood.

Nay, to doe you seruice, I will not sticke to clap on foure double clothes: but of all loues tell me, past there any thing more betweene you? For I dye out of longing, for to heare the words which flow from so sweet a mouth. How didst thou dare, not knowing her, be so bold, to shew thy selfe so familiar, both in thy entrance, and thy demand?

Not knowing her? They were my neighbours for foure yeeres together; I dealt with them; I conuersed with them; I talked with them; and laught together with them day and night. O! how merry wee haue beene! Her mother, why she knowes me better then her owne hands: and Melibea too, though now shee bee growne so tall, so great, so courteous, and discreete a Lady.

Sempronio, a word with you in your eare.

Say on: What's the matter?

Mary this: Celestina's attention giues matter to our Master to inlarge his discourse; giue her a touch on the toe; or make some signe to her that shee may be gone, and not waite thus, as shee doth vpon his answers. For, there is no man, bee hee neuer so much a foole, that speakes much, when hee is all alone.

Didst thou say Melibea was courteous? I thinke it was but in a mocke. Was her like euer borne into the world? Did God euer create a better, or more perfect body? Can the like proportion be painted by any pensill? Is she not that Paragon of beautie, from whence all eyes may copy forth a true patterne of vnimitable excellence? If Hellen were now aliue, for whom so great a slaughter was made of Greekes and Troianes, or faire Polix • na, both of them would haue done their reuerence to this Lady, for whom I languish. If she had been present in that contention for the Apple with the three Goddesses, the name of contention had neuer been questioned: For without any contradiction, they would all of them haue yeelded, and ioyntly haue giuen their consent, that Melibea should haue borne it from them: so that it should rather haue been called the Apple of concord, then of discord. Besides, as many women as are now borne, and doe know her, curse themselues and their fortune; complaining of heauen, because it did not remember them, when it made her, consuming as well their bodies as their liues with enuy, being ready to eat their owne flesh for very anger, still augmenting martyrdomes to themselues, thinking to equall that perfection by arte, which Nature had bestowed vpon her without any labour. They pill, and dis-haire their eye-browes with nippers, with playsters of Pitch or Barme, and other the like instruments▪ They seeke after Wall-wort, and the like hearbs, roots, sprigs, and flowres to make Lyes, wherewithall to bring their haire to the colour of hers, spoyling and martyring their faces, clothing them with diuers colourings, glissenings, paintings, vnctions, oyntments, strong waters, white and red pargetings, which, to auoide prolixity, I repeate not. Now iudge then, whether shee whom Nature hath so richly beautified, be worthy the loue and seruice of so meane a man as my selfe?

Sempronio, I vnderstand your meaning; but giue him leaue to runne on; for he will fall anon from his Asse, and then his iourney will be at an end: you shall see, he will come by and by to a full poynt, and so conclude.

In her, Nature, as in a glasse did wholy behold her selfe; that she might make her most absolutely perfect; for those graces, which she had dif • used vnto diuers, she had ioyntly vnited them in her, and ouer-viewed this her worke with so curious an eye, that nothing might be added to make it fairer. To the end that they might know, who had the happinesse to see her, the worthinesse and excellency of her Painter: only a little faire Fountaine-water with a combe of yuorie, is sufficient (without any other slibber-slabbers) to make her surpasse all other of her Sexe, in beauty and courtesie. These are her weapons; with these she kils and ouer-comes; and with these hath she bound mee in so hard and strong a chaine, that I must for euer remaine her prisoner.

Sir, put a period to your words, trouble your selfe no more; for this chaine which shackles thee, is not so strong, but my file is as sharpe to cut it in sunder, which I will doe for thee, that thou mayst be at liberty. And therefore giue me now licence to take my leaue of you; For it growes very late; and let me haue the girdle a • ng with me. For you know, I must needs vse it.

O disconsolate that I am! my misforunes still pursue me; for with thee, or with this girdle, or with both, I would willingly haue beene accompanied all this darke and tedious night. But because there is no perfect happinesse in this our painefull and vnhappy life; let solitarinesse wholy possesse my soule, and cares be my continuall companions. What ho? Where be these men? Why Parmeno, I say!

Heere, Sir.

Accompany this Matrone home to her house; and as much pleasure and ioy goe with her, as sorrow and woe doth stay with me.

Sir, fare you well. To morrow I shall make my returne, and visit you againe; not doubting but my gowne and her answer shall meete heere together; for now time doth not serue. And in the interim, let me intreate you to be patient. Settle your thoughts vpon some other things, and doe not so much as once thinke vpon her.

Not thinke vpon her? It is impossible. Nay, it were prophane to forget her, for whom my life onely pleaseth mee.

Parmeno, my sonne; since we last talkt together, I haue not had any fit opportunitie to expresse vnto thee the infinitenesse of that loue which I beare vnto thee, and as all the world can well witnesse for mee, how well I haue spoken of thee in thy absence. Euery man, eare hath beene filled with the good reports I haue made of thee. The reason thereof I need not to repeate; for I euer held thee to be my sonne, at least, by adoption; and therefore thought thou wouldst haue shew'd thy selfe more naturall and louing towards me. But in stead thereof, thou gau'st me bad payment, euen to my face; crossing, whatsoeuer I said; thinking ill of all that I spake; whispering and murmuring against me in the presence of Calisto. I was well perswaded, that after thou hadst once yeelded to my good counsell, that you would not haue turned your heele, and kickt against me as you did, nor haue falne off from your promise. But notwithstanding all this, I perceiue some old relique yet still remaining of my former folly. And so speaking rather to satisfie thine owne humor, then that thou •• nst render any reason for it; thou dost hinder thy selfe of profit, to giue thy tongue contentment. Heare me (my sonne) if thou hast not heard me already. Looke I, say, and consider with thy selfe, that I am old, and well strucken in yeeres; and good counsell only lodgeth with the elder sort, it being proper to youth, to follow pleasure and delight. But my hope is, that of this thy errour, thy youth onely is in fault: and I trust that you will beare your selfe better towards mee heereafter, and that you will alter your ill purpose, together with your tender yeeres; For as it is in the Prouerbe: Our customes suffer change, together with our hayres; and wee vary our disposition, as we vary our yeeres. I speake this (my sonne) because as we grow in age, so grow we in experience; new things daily offring themselues to our view: for youth lookes no farther then to things present, occupying his eie only in that he sees set before him; but riper yeeres omit neither things present, things past, nor things to come. And sonne Parmeno, if you would but bethink your selfe of the loue I haue heeretofore borne you, I know it cannot escape your knowledge, that the first nights lodging that you tooke, when you were a stranger, and came newly to this City, was in my house. But you young men care not for vs that are old; but gouerne your selues according to the sauour and relish of your owne palates; you neuer think that you haue, or shall haue need of vs: you neuer thinke vpon sicknesse; you neuer think, that this flowre of your youth shall fade. But doe you heare me, (my friend) and marke what I say vnto you; That in such cases of necessitie, as these, an old woman, (bee shee well experienced) is a good helpe, a comforter, a friend, a mother; nay, more then a mother: A good Inne, to giue ease and rest to a sound man; and a good Hospitall for to cure a sicke man; a good Purse in time of need; a good Chest, to keepe money in prosperitie; a good Fire in winter, inuironed with spits of good rost-meat; a good Shade in summer, and a good Tauerne to eate and drinke in. Now my pretty little foole, what sai'st thou to all this? What dost thou thinke of it? I know, thou art by this time ashamed of that which thou hast spoken to day; thou can'st not say B to a Battle-doore; thou art strucke so dumbe, and so dead: and therefore I will presse thee no further, nor craue any more at thy hands, then that which friendship craues of thee, which is, Looke vpon Sempronio; next vnder heauen, my selfe haue made him a man; I could wish you would liue and loue together as brothers and friends: for being in league with him, thou shalt liue in the fauor and loue of thy Master, and in good repute with all the world: for Sempronio, I tell thee, is well belou'd, hee is diligent, a good Courtier, a proper seruant, a fellow of a good fashion, and one that is willing to imbrace thy friendship, which will turne to both your profits, if you will but hand-fast your affections each to other. Besides, you know, that you must loue, if you will be beloued. Trowtes cannot bee taken with drie breeches. And if the Cat will haue fish, she must wet her foote. Nor does Sempronio owe this of right vnto thee; nor is hee bound to loue thee, vnlesse thou exchange loue for loue: it is meere simplicitie, not to be willing to loue, and yet looke to be beloued of others. And as great folly, to repay friendship with hatred.

Mother, I confesse my second fault; and crauing pardon for what is past, I offer my selfe to be ordred by you in all my future proceedings. But yet me thinkes it is impossible, that I should hold friendship with Sempronio; hee is frappish, and I cannot beare; he is chollericke, and I can carrie no coles. How then is it possible to make a true contract betwixt two such contrary natures?

But you were not wont to be thus froward.

In good fay (mother) you say true. But the more I grow in yeeres, the lesse I grow in patience; Tush, I haue forgotten that lesson, as if I had neuer knowne what it meant; I am (I confesse) the man I was, nor is Sempronio himselfe; neyther can hee, nor will hee stead mee in any thing. I neuer yet tasted any the least kindnesse from him.

A sure friend is knowne in a doubtfull matter; and in aduersity is his faith proued. Then comes he neerest vnto him, when hee is farthest from comfort; and with greater desire doth hee then visit his house, when as prosperous fortune hath forsaken it. What shall I say vnto thee, Sonne, of the vertues of a good and fast friend? There is nothing more to bee beloued; nothing more rare: he refuseth no burden. You two are equalls, and paritie of persons, similitude of manners, and simpathy of hearts are the maine props that vp-hold friendship. Take heed (my sonne;) for if thou hast any thing, it is safely kept for thee. Be thou wise to gaine more, for this is gain'd already to your hands. Your father, O what paines tooke hee for it! But I may not put it into your hands, till you lead a more reposed life, and come to a more compleate and full age.

Mother, what doe you call a reposed life?

Mary sonne, to liue of your selfe. Not to goe thorow other mens houses, nor to set thy foote vnder another mans table: which thou shalt still bee inforced to doe, vnlesse thou learne to make profit of thy seruice; for out of very pitty to see thee goe thus totred and torne, not hauing a ragge almost to hang on thy breeche, did I beg that mantle which thou saw'st, of Calisto, not so much for the mantles sake, as for that there being a Taylor belonging to the house, and thou before being without a Ierkin, hee might bestow it vpon thee. So that I speake not for mine owne profit, (as I heard you say) but for thy good. For, if you rely onely vpon the ordinary wages of these Gallants, it is such, that what you get by it after tenne yeeres seruice, you may put it in your eye and neuer see the worse. Inioy thy youth, good daies, good nights, good meate, and good drinke; when thou mai'st haue these things, lose them not; Let that be lost that will be lost. Doe not thou mourne for the wealth which was left thy Master (for that will but shorten thy daies) sithence wee can inioy it no longer then wee liue. O Sonne Parmeno, (and well may I call thee sonne, since I had the breeding of thee so long a time) follow my counsell, seeing it proceeds out of pure loue, and an earnest desire, to see thee grow vp in honour. O! how happy should I be, might I but see thee and Sempronio agree; see you two friends, and sworne brothers in euery thing, that yee may come to my poore house to be merrie, and to see mee now and then, and to take your pleasure each of you with his Wench!

His Wench, mother?

I, his Wench; and a young one too: As for old flesh, my selfe am old enough, and such a wench as Sempronio would be glad of with all his heart, with t'one halfe of that regard and affection which I shew to thee. What I speake, comes from my intralls, and the verie bowels of mee.

Mother, you shall not be deceiued in mee.

And if I should, the matter is not great; For what I doe, I do for charitie, and for that I see thee here alone in a strange Land, and for the respect which I beare vnto those bones of her, who recommended thee vnto me. When you are more man, you will thinke of all this, and come to a truer knowledge of things, and then thou wilt say, that old Celestina gaue me good counsell.

I know that as well now, though I am but young, as if I were elder: and howbeit I spake against you to day, it was not because I thought that to be ill spoken which you said; but because I saw, when I told my Master the truth, and aduised him for the best, he ill intreated mee, and therefore henceforth let vs shake hands, and vse him accordingly; doe what thou wilt vnto him, I will hold my peace; for I haue already too much offended, in not crediting thee in this businesse concerning him.

In this and all other, thou shalt not onely trip, but fall, as long as thou shalt not take my counsell with thee, which comes from thy true and faithfull friend.

Now, I blesse the time wherein I serued thee: counting those daies happy, vnder which thou bredst mee vp of a childe, since old age brings with it such store of fruite.

Sonne, no more. For mine eyes already runne ouer, and my teares beginne to breake ouer those bankes, which should bound them in. O! had I in all this world, but such another friend? Such another companion? Such a comfortresse in my troubles? Such an easer, and lightner of my hearts heauinesse? Who did supply my wants? Who knew my secrets? To whom did I discouer my heart? Who was all my happinesse, and quietnesse, but thy mother? She was neerer and dearer vnto me, then my gossip, or mine owne sister. O! how well-fauored was she, and cheerefull of countenance? How lustie? How quicke? How neate? How portly and maiesticall in her gate? How stout and manly? Why, shee would goe you at midnight without or paine, or feare, from Church-yard, to Church-yard, seeking for implements appertaining to our Trade, as if it had been day. Nor did she omit either Christians, Moores, or Iewes, whose Graues and Sepulchres she did not visit. By day she would watch them, and by night shee would dig them out; taking such things as should serue her turne. So that she tooke as great pleasure in darknesse of the night, as thou dost comfort in the brightnesse of the day. She would vsually say; that the night was the sinfull mans cloak, that did hide and couer all his rogueries, that they might not be seene, though perhaps she had not the like dexteritie and skill in all the rest of those tricks that appertāined to her Trade: yet one thing shall I tell thee, because thou shall see what a mother thou hast lost, though I was about to keepe it in; but it makes no matter, it shall out to thee. She did pull out seuen teeth out of a fellowes head that was hang'd, with a paire of Pincers, such as you pull out stubbed haires withall; whil'st I did pull off his shooes. She was excellent at a Circle, and would enter it farre better then my selfe, and with greater boldnes, though I also was very famous for it in those dayes, more I wisse, then I am now; who haue together with her, lost almost my cunning. What shall I say more vnto thee, but that the very Diuels themselues did liue in feare of her? Shee did hold them in horrour, and dread, making them to tremble and quake, when shee beganne to exercise her exorcismes, her spels, her incantations, her charmes, her coniurations, and other words of most horrisonous roaring, and most hideous noyse. Shee was as well knowne to them all, as the begger knowes his dish; or as thy selfe in thine owne house. One Diuell comming tumbling in vpon the necke of another, as fast, as it pleased her to call them vp, and not one of them durst tell her a lye; such power had shee to binde them: so that euer since shee dy'd, I could neuer attaine to the truth of any thing. Parmeno, may this woman no better thriue, then shee pleaseth mee with those her wordy prayses.

What sai'st thou, my honest Parmeno? My sonne, nay, more then my sonne.

I say, How should it come to passe, that my mother should haue this aduantage of you, being the words which shee and you spake, were both one?

How? Make you this so great a wonder? Know you not, the Prouerbe tels vs: That there is a great deale of difference betwixt Peter and Peter? Trust mee truely, wee cannot all be alike in all. Wee cannot all of vs attaine to those good gifts and graces of my deceased Gossip. And haue not you your selfe seene amongst your Artizans some good, and some others better then they? So likewise was it betwixt mee and your mother. Shee was the onely woman in our Arte, she had not her fellow: and for such a one was she of all the world both knowne and sought after, as well of Caualleroes, as marryed men, old men, young men, and children, besides, Maides and Damsels, who did as earnestly pray for her life, as for that of their owne fathers and mothers. Shee had to doe with all manner of persons; shee talked with all sorts of people. If wee walked the streetes, as many as we met, they were all of them her God-sonnes. For her chiefest profession for some sixteene yeeres together, was to play the Mid-wife: so that albeit thou knew'st not these secrets, because thou wast then but young, now it is fit that thou should'st know them, sithence that she is dead, and thou growne vp to be a man.

Tell mee, mother: When the Iustice sent Officers to apprehend you, at which time I was then in your house, was there any great acquaintance betweene you?

Any great acquaintance? You are disposed to iest. Our cases were both alike; they tooke vs both alike; they accused vs both alike; and they did punish vs both alike, which (if I be not deceiued) was the first punishment that euer we had. But thou wast a little one then. I wonder how thou▪ shouldst remember it; For, it is a thing of all other, the most forgotten, that hath hapned in this Citie; so many, and so dayly in this world are those new occurrents, which obliterate the old. If you goe but out into the market-place, you shall euery day see, Peguey Pague; the Peccant and his punishment.

It is true, but the worser part of wickednesse, is the perseuerance therein.

How deadly the foole bites! Hee hath hit mee home, and prickt me to the quick; I will therefore be now Tom-tell-troth. And assure thy selfe, sithence thou hast galled me, I will wring thee till I make thee winch and fling; I will tickle thee on the right veyne.

What say you mother?

Mary I say, sonne, that besides this, your mother was taken foure seuerall times, shee her selfe alone: and once shee was accused for a Witch; For shee was found one night by the watch, with certaine little candles in her hand, gathering I know not what earth in a crosse way; for which shee stood halfe a day in the open market-place vpon a Scaffold, with a high paper Hat, like the coffin of a Suger-loafe, painted full of Diuels, whereon her fault was written (being brought thither, riding thorow the streetes vpon an Asse, as the fashion is in the punishment of Bawds & Witches.) Yet all this was nothing; for men must suffer something in this wicked world, for to vp-hold their liues, and their honours. And marke, I pray, what small reckoning they made of it, because of her great wisdome and discretion. For shee would not for all this, giue ouer her old occupation; and from that day forward followed it more earnestly, then shee did before, and with happier proofe. This I thought good to tell you, to crosse that opinion of yours, touching perseuerance in that, wherein we haue once already erred; for all that shee did, did so well become her, and such a grace had she with her, that vpon my conscience, howbeit she stood thus disgracefully vpon the Scaffold, euery one might perceiue, that shee cared not a button for those that stood beneath, staring and gazing vpon her; such was her behauiour and carriage at that instant: looke they might their fill, but I warrant you, she was not a farthing in debt, no not to the proudest of them all; wherein, I thought fit to instance, to shew thereby vnto you; that they, who haue any thing in them as shee had, and are wise, and of worth, fall farre more easily and sooner into errour, then any other. Doe but weigh and consider with your selfe, what a manner of man Virgil was; how wise in all kinde of knowledge; and yet I am sure you haue heard, how in a wicker basket hee was hung out from a Towre, all Rome looking vpon him; yet for all this, was hee neither the lesse honoured, neyther lost he the name of Virgil.

That is true which you say; but it was not inioyned by the Iustice.

Peace, you foole, thou art ignorant what a sinister and course kinde of Iustice was vsed, and rigorously executed vpon thy mother, to the most extremity, which, as all men confesse, is a meere iniury. And the rather, because it was commonly spoken of all men, that wrongfully, and against all right and reason, by suborning of false witnesses, and cruell torments, they inforced her to confesse that, which in realitie of truth was not. But because shee was a woman of a great spirit, and good courage, and her heart had beene accustomed to endure, shee made matters lighter then they were; And of all this, shee reckoned not a Pinne: for a thousand times haue I heard her say; If I broke my legge, it was all for my good; for this made mee better knowne then I was before. And certainely so shee was, and the more noted and respected, nay, and thriued the better by it, both she and I, and the more plentifull our haruest and incomes of customers of the best, and wee loued and liued merrily together to her last. And be but thou vnto me, as she was; that is to say, a true and faithfull friend; and withall, indeauour thy selfe to be good, since thou hast so good a patterne to follow. And for that which thy father left thee, thou hast it safely kept for thee.

Let vs now leaue talking of the dead, and of patrimonies, and let vs parley of our present businesses, which concernes vs more then to draw things past vnto our remembrance. If you be well remembred, it is not long since that you promised me, I should haue Areusa, when as I told you at my Masters house, that I was ready to dye for loue; so seruent is my affection towards her.

If I did promise thee, I haue not forgot it; nor would I you should thinke, that I haue lost my memory with my yeeres. For I haue thrice already, and better, giuen her the checke, concerning this businesse, in thy absence; but now I thinke the matter is growne to some ripenesse. Let vs walke towards her house; for now, doe what shee can, shee shall not auoyde the Mate. For this is the least thing of a thousand, that I will vndertake to doe for thee.

I was quite out of hope euer to haue her; for I could neuer come to any conclusion with her, no, not to finde so much fauour, as but to speake with her, or to haue but a word with her. And as it is in the prouerbe: In loue it is an ill signe, to see his Mistresse flye, and turne the face. And this did much dis-hearten mee in my suite.

I maruaile not much at thy discouragement, considering I was then a stranger vnto thee; at least, not so well acquainted with thee as now I am: and that thy selfe did not then know, (as now thou dost) that thou mai'st command her, who is the Doctresse of this Arte; but now thou shalt see, what fauour thou shalt finde for my sake; what power I haue ouer these wenches; how much I can preuaile with them; and what wonders I can worke in matters of Ioue: but hush, tread softly; Loe, heeres the doore, let vs enter in with still and quiet steps, that the neighbours may not heare vs. Stay, and attend mee heere at the staires foote, whil'st I goe vp and see what I shall be able to doe with her, concerning the businesse wee talkt of; and it may be, wee shall worke more with her, then either thou or I did euer dreame of.

Who's there? Who is that, that at this time of night comes vp into my chamber?

One, I assure you, that meanes you no ill; one that neuer treads step, but shee thinkes on thy profit; one that is more mindfull of thee, then of her selfe; one that loues thee as her life, though I am now growne old.

Now the Diuell take this old Trot! what newes with you, that you come thus stealing like a Ghost, and at so late an houre? How thinke you (Gentlewoman) is this a faire houre to come to ones chamber? I was euen putting off my clothes to goe to bed.

What? To bed with the Hen, daughter? So soone to roost? • ye for shame; Is this the way to thriue? Thinke you euer to be rich, if you goe to bed so timely? Come, walke a turne or two, and talke with mee a little; let others bewaile their wants, not thou. Herbs feed them that gather them. Who but would, if hee could, leade such a life?

How cold it is! I will go put on my clothes againe: beshrew me if I am not cold at my very heart.

Nay, by my fay shall you not; but if you will goe into your bed, doe; and so shall wee talke more conueniently together.

Yes indeed, I haue neede so to doe; for I haue felt my selfe very ill all this day; so that necessity, rather then lazinesse, hath made me thus earely to take my sheetes, in stead of my petticoat, to wrap about me.

Sit not vp, I pray any longer, but get you to bed, and couer your selfe well with clothes, and sinke lower in, so shall you be the sooner warme. O! how like a Syren doest thou looke? How faire, how beautifull? O! how sweetely euery thing smells about thee, when thou heauest and turnest thy selfe in thy bed? I assure you, euery thing is in very good order: how well haue I alwaies beene pleased with all thy things, and thy doings? You will not thinke, how this neatnesse, this handsomenesse of yours in your lodging doth delight me; to see euery thing so trimme and tricksie about you; I promise you, I am euen proud of it. O! how fresh dost thou looke? What sheets? What quilts be here? What pillowes? O! how white they be? Let me not liue, if euery thing neere doth not like me wonderfull well: My Pearle, my Iewell of gold, see whether I loue you or no, that I come to visit you at this time of night? Let my eye take its fill in beholding of thee; it does me much good to touch thee, and to looke vpon thee.

Nay (good mother) leaue, doe not touch me; pray you doe not, it doth but increase my paine.

What paine (Sweet heart?) Tell me (pretty Ducke.) Come, come, you doe but iest, I am sure.

Iest? Let mee neuer taste of ioy, if I iest with you; it is scarce foure houres since, that euery minute I was ready to dye with paine of the Mother, which rising in my brest, swell'd vp to my throate, and was ready to stifle me; that I still lookt when I should leaue the world; and therefore am not so gamesome and wanton as you thinke I am: now I haue little mind of that.

Goe to, giue mee leaue a little to touch you; and I will try what I can doe. For I know something of this euill, which euery one calls the Mother, and the passion thereunto belonging.

Lay your hand higher vp towards my stomacke.

Alack (poore heart) how I pitty thee: that one so plump, so faire, so cleare, so fresh, so fragrant, so delicate, so dainty a creature, that art indeede the very abstract of beauty, the most admired modell for complexion, feature, comelinesse, and rarest composure; euery Limme, euery Lineament carrying such an extraordinary lustre and ornament by reflection from thee. I say, How doe I pitty thee, that any ache, sicknesse, or infirmity should dare to seaze, or presume to vsurp ouer such a Peerelesse Potent, a commanding Power, as thy imperious vnparaleld beauty! But I dare say, it is not so, nor so; No no, your disease is selfe-conceited, and the pride of your good parts, this puffs you and makes you slight and contemne all. Goe to, goe to, (daughter) you are to blame if it be so, and I tell you, it is a shame for you, that it is, not to impart these good graces and blessings, which heauen hath bestowed vpon you, to as many as wish you well; For they were not giuen you in vaine, that you should let them wither, and lose the flowre of your youth vnder sixe linings of Woollen, and Linnen; haue a care, that you be not couetous of that, which cost you but little; doe not like, a Miser, hoord vp your beauty; make not a hidden treasure of it, sithence in it's owne nature it is as communicable, and as commonly currant as money from man to man. Be not the Mastiue in the garden, nor the Dog in the manger: and since thou canst not take any pleasure in thy selfe, let others take their pleasure▪ and do not think thou wast borne for nothing: for when thou wast borne, man was borne: and when man was borne, woman was borne; nothing in all this wide world was created superfluous, nor which Nature did not prouide for with very good consonancy, and well suiting with reason. But thinke on the contrary, That it is a fault to vexe and torment men, when it is in thy power to giue them remedy.

Tush, mother, these are but words, and profit mee nothing; giue me something for my euill, and leaue your iesting.

In this so common a griefe, all of vs, (the more misfortune ours) are in a manner Physicians to our selues; that which I haue seene practised on others, and that which I found good in my selfe, I shall plainely deliuer vnto you: but as the states of our bodies are diuers, and the qualities differing; so are the medicines also diuers, and the operations different. Euery strong sent is good: as Penny-royall, Rue, Wormewood, smoake of Partridge feathers, of Rosemary, and of the Soles of old shooes, and of Muske-roses, of Incense, of strong perfumes, receiued kindly, fully, and greedily, doth worke much good; much slaketh and easeth the paine, and by little and little returnes the Mother to it's proper place. But there is another thing that passeth all these, and that I euer found to be better then any one, or all of them put together; but what it is, I will not tell you, because you make your selfe such a piece of nicenesse.

As you loue me, (good mother) tell me: see'st thou mee thus payned, and concealest thou thy selfe?

Goe to, goe to, you vnderstand me well enough; doe not make your selfe more foole then you are.

Well, well, well; now trust mee no more, if I vnderstood thee▪ But what is it thou wouldst haue mee to doe? you know that my friend went yesterday with his Captaine to the wars; would you haue me to wrong him?

O! take heed, great wrong, I promise you.

Yes indeed, for hee supplies all my wants; hee will see I shall lacke nothing; hee holds mee honest; hee does loue mee, and vses mee with that respect, as if I were his Lady and Mistresse.

Suppose all this to be true, be it in the best sort it may be, yet what of all this? This retirednesse is no cure for your disease; you must be free and communicable, for I must tell you, there are griefes and pangs cannot easily be posted off, and dispossessed, and some not to be remoued but by being a mother, (you know my meaning;) and such is your disease, and you can neuer recouer it, but by liuing sole and simple (as you now doe) without company.

It is but my ill hap, and a curse laid vpon mee by my parents, else had I not beene put to proue all this misery and paine, which now I feele. But to let this passe, because it is late, tell mee I pray, what winde droue you hither?

You know already what I haue said vnto you concerning Parmeno; who complaines himselfe vnto me, that you refuse to see him; that you will not vouchsafe him so much as a looke: what should be the reason, I know not, vnlesse because you know, that I wish him well, and make account of him, as of my sonne. I haue a better care of your matters, and regard your friends in a kinder fashion. Not a neighbour that dwels neere you, but she is welcome vnto me, and my heart reioyceth as often as I see them, and all because they conuerse with thee, and keepe thee company.

It is true (A • nt) that you say; and I acknowledge my beholdingnesse.

I know not whether you doe or no: Dost thou heare me (girle?) I •• ust beleeue workes; for words are winde, and are sold euery where for nothing; but loue is neuer pay'd, but with pure loue: and works with works. Thou know'st the alliance between thee and Elicia, whom Sempronio keepes in my house. Parmeno and hee are fellowes and companions, they both serue the Gentleman you wot of; and by whom you may gaine great good, and grace vnto your selfe. Doe not therefore deny him that, the granting whereof will cost thee so little; you are kinse-women, and they companions: see, how pat all things fall! far • ie better then we our selues could haue wished; and to tell you truly, I haue brought him along with mee: how say you? Shall I call him vp?

Now, heauens forbid. Fye; What did you meane? Ay me; I feare mee, hee hath heard euery word.

No: for hee stayes beneath; I will call to him to come vp; for my sake shew him good countenance; take notice of him; speake kindly vnto him; entertaine him friendly; and if you thinke fit, let him inioy you, and you him; and both one another; for though he gayne much, I am sure, you shall lose nothing by the bargaine.

Mother, I am not ignorant, that as well these, as all other your former speeches vnto me, haue euer beene directed to my good and benefit: but how is it possible, that I should doe this, that you would now haue mee? For you know to whom I am bound to giue an account, as already you haue heard; and if hee know I play false, he will kill me. My neighbours, they are enuious and malicious, and they will straight-way acquaint him therewith. And say, that no great ill should befall me, saue only the losing of his loue; it will be more then I shall gaine, by giuing contentment to him, for whom you intreate, or rather command mee.

For this feare of yours, my selfe haue already prouided: for wee entred in very softly.

Nay, I doe not speake for this night, but for many other that are to come. Tush, were it but for one night, I would not care.

What? Is this your fashion? Is this the manner of your carriage? And you vse these niceties, you shall neuer haue a house with a double roome, but liue like a begger all the daies of your life. What? are you afraide of our Sweet-heart now he is absent? What would you then doe, were he now in Towne? It hath euer beene my ill fortune, to giue counsell vnto fooles, such as cannot see their owne good; say what I will, they will erre; still stand in their owne light. But I doe not much wonder at it; For though the world be wide, yet there are but few wise in it. Great is the largenesse of the earth, but small the number of those that haue experience. Ha, daughter! Did you but see your cousins wisedome, or but know what benefit my breeding, and counsell hath brought her, how cunning, how witty, and what a Mistresse in her arte; you would be of another minde; say, what I will vnto her, shee patiently indures my reprehensions, shee hearkens to my aduice, and does all what I will haue her doe; shee will sometimes boast, that shee hath at one time had one in bed with her; another wayting at the doore; and a third sighing for her within the house; and yet hath giuen good satisfaction to them all. And art thou afraide, who hast but two to deale withall; Can one cock fill all thy Cisternes? One conduit-pipe water all thy Court? If this be your diet, you may chance to rise a hungred, you shall haue no meate left against another time; I will not rent your fragments; I cannot liue vpon scraps; One could neuer please mee; I could neuer place all my affection vpon one; two can doe more then one; they giue more, and they haue more to giue. It goes hard (Daughter) with that Mouse, that hath but one hole to trust to; for if that be stopt, shee hath no meanes to hide her selfe from the Cat: he that hath but one eye, you see in what danger he goes? One sole Act maketh not a Habit. It is a rare, and strange thing to see a Partridge flye single; to feed alwaies vpon one dish, brings a loathing to the stomacke; one Swallow makes not a Summer; one witnesse alone is of no validitie in Law. Hee that hath but one suite of clothes, and shee that hath but one gowne to her backe, quickly weares them out. What would you doe (daughter) with this number of one? Many more inconueniences can I tell thee of this single soale number (if one may be a number.) If you be wise, be neuer without two; for it is a laud • ble and commendable company, as you may see it in your selfe; who hath two eares, two feet, and two hands; two sheets vpon one bed; and two smockes wherewith to shift you; and the more you haue, the better it is for you; for still, (as it is in the Prouerbe) The more Moores, the better market; and honour without profit, is no other but as a Ring vpon the finger. And because one Sacke cannot hold them both, apply your selfe to your profit, Sonne Parmeno, come vp.

O let him not come vp if you loue mee: the pockes be my death, if I am not ready to swound, to thinke on't; I know not what to doe for very shame. Nay fie, mother, what meane you to call him vp? you know that I haue no acquaintance with him; I neuer exchang'd a word with him, in all my life; Fye, how I am ashamed!

I am here with thee (wench;) I, who will stand betwixt him and thee; I will quit thee of this shame, and will couer thee close, and speake for you both: For hee is as bashfull as you for your life.

Gentlewoman, heauens preserue this gracious presence of yours.

You are welcome, gentle Sir.

Come hither you Asse, whither goe you now, to sit moping downe in a corner? Come, come, be not so shamefast, for it was the bashfull man whom the Diuell brought to Court; for hee was sure, he should get nothing there; hearken both of you, what I shall now say vnto you: You, my friend Parmeno, know already what I promist you: and you (daughter) what I intreated at your hands. Laying aside therefore the difficultie, in drawing thee to grant that which I desi • ed, few words I conceiue to be best, because the time will not permit mee to be long. He for his part hath hitherto liu'd in great paine and griefe for your sake: and therefore you seeing his torment, I know you will not kill him: and I likewise know, that your selfe liketh so well of him, that it shall not be amisse, that he stay with you heere this night in the house.

For my mayden-heads sake (mother) let it not be so, pray doe not command it me.

Mother, as you loue my life, as you loue goodnesse, let me not goe hence, vntill we be well agreed: for shee hath wounded me with her eyes, to death, and I must dye through loue, vnlesse you helpe me; offer her all that which my father left with you for me; tell her, I will giue her all that I haue. Besides, doe you heare? Tell her, that me thinks, she will not vouchsafe to looke vpon me.

What doth this Gentleman whisper in your eare? Thinks he that I will not performe ought of your request.

No, daughter, no such matter; he saies that he is very glad of your good loue and friendship, because you are so honest, and so worthy; and that any benefit shall light well, that shall fall vpon you. Come hither (Modesty) Come hither you bashfull foole.

He will not be so vnciuill, as to enter into another bodies ground without leaue, especially, when it lies in seuerall.

So vnciuill? Doe you stand vpon leaue? Would you haue him stand with cap in hand, and say, I pray shall I? Will yo • giue me leaue forsooth? And I know not what fiddle-come-faddles? Well, I will stay no longer with you: and I will passe my word, that you shall rise to morrow painelesse.

Nay fye, good Sir, for modesties sake, I beseech you let me alone: content your selfe, I pray, I pray let be. If not for my sake, yet looke backe vpon those gray haires of that reuerend old Dame, which stands by you, and forbeare for her sake. Get you gone, I say, for I am none of those you take mee to be, I am none of your common hackneyes, that hire out their bodies for money. Would I might neuer stirre, if I doe not get mee out of the house, if you doe but touch so much as a cloth about me.

Why, how now Areusa, what's the matter with you? Whence comes this strangenesse? Whence this coynesse of yours? This nicenesse? Why (Daughter) doe you thinke that I know not what this meanes? Did I neuer see a man and woman together before? And that I know not all their tricks and deuices? What they say, and what they doe? I am sorry to heare that I doe. Besides, I must tell you, I was once as wanton as you are now, and thought my penny as good siluer as yours: and many a friend I had that came vnto mee: yet did I neuer in all my life exclude either old man, or old woman out of my company, or that euer I refused their counsell, were it publike or priuate, By my little honesty, I had rather thou hadst giuen mee a boxe on the eare, then to heare what I heare. You make of me, as if I had been borne but yesterday. O! how cunning forsooth, how close you be? for to make your selfe seeme honest, you would make mee a foole. I must be a kinde of Ignoramus, without shame, secrecie, and experience. Yee would discredit mee in my Trade, for to winne your selfe credit in your owne. But the best is, betwixt Pirate and Pirate, there is nothing to be got but blowes and empty barrels. And well I wot, that I speake farre better of thee, behinde thy backe, then thou canst thinke of thy selfe before me.

Mother, if I haue offended, pardon me, for I had rather giue contentment to you, then to my selfe. I would not anger you for a world.

No, I am not angry, I doe but tell you this against another time, that you may beware you doe so no more. And so good night, for I will be gone, I will get mee away alone by my selfe.

Good night, Aunt.

Mother, will you that I waite vpon you? Shall I accompany you home?

No mary shall you not; that were but to strip one, and cloath another; or againe, it needs not, for I am old, and therefore feare not to be forced in the streets. I am past all danger of rauishing.

The dogge barkes. The old Witch comes hobbling home.

Tha, tha, tha.

Daughter, Come downe, and open the doore.

Is this a time to come in? You are disposed still to be out thus a nights. To what end (I trow) walke you thus late? What a long time (mother) haue you beene away? What doe you meane by it? You can neuer finde the way home, when you are once abroad: but it is your old wont, you cannot leaue it; and so as you may pleasure one, you care not and you leaue a hundred discontented: you haue been sought after to day, by the father of her that was betrothed, which you brought from the Prebendary vpon Easter day, whom he is purposed to marry within these three dayes, and you must needs helpe her, according as you promised, that her husband may not finde her virginity crackt.

Daughter, I remember no such matter. For whom is it that you speake?

Remember no such matter? Sure, you haue forgot your selfe. O! what a weake memory haue you? Why, your selfe told mee of it, when you tooke her hence; and that you had renewed her maidenhead seuen times at the least.

Daughter, make it not so strange, that I should forget. For hee that scattereth his memory into many parts, can keepe it stedfast in no part. But tell me, Will he not returne againe?

See whether hee will returne or no? He hath giuen you a bracelet of Gold, as a pledge for your paines: and will hee not then returne againe?

O! wast hee that brought the bracelet? Now I know whome you meane. Why did you not prepare things in a readinesse, and beganne to doe something against I came home? For in such things you should practise your selfe when I am absent, and trye whether you can doe that by your selfe, which you so often haue seene mee doe; otherwise, you are like to liue all your lifetime like a beast, without either arte, or in-come: and then when you grow to my yeeres, you will too late lament your present lazinesse; for an idle, and lazy youth brings with it a repentfull, and a painfull old age. I tooke a better course I wisse, when your Grandmother shew'd mee her cunning: for, in the compasse of one yeere, I grew more skilfull then her selfe.

No maruell; for many times, (as it is in the Prouerbe) a good Scholler goes beyond his Master; and it is all in the will and desire of him that is to learne; for no Science can be well imployed on him, who hath not a good minde and affection thereunto. But I had as liefe dye, as goe about it. I am sicke (mee thinkes) when I set my selfe to it; and you are neuer well, but when you are at it.

You may say what you like. But beleeue me, you will dye a begger for this. What? doe yo thinke to liue alwaies vnder my wing? Thinke you neuer to goe from my elbow?

Parmeno, I pray thee bring downe our Cloakes, and our Rapiers; for I thinke it be time for vs to goe to dinner.

Come, let vs goe presently; for I thinke they will finde fault with vs, for staying so long. Let vs not goe thorow this, but that other streete, that wee may goe in by the Vestals, so shall we see, whether Celestina haue ended her deuotions, and take her along with vs.

What? Doe you thinke to finde her at her Theme now? Is this a fit houre? This a time for her to be at her Orizons?

That can neuer be said out of time, which ought to be done at all times.

It is true, but I see, you know not Celestina; when she ha's any thing to do, she neuer thinks vpon heauen, the diuell a whit that she cares then for deuotion; when she hath any thing in the house to gnaw vpon, farewell all holinesse, farewell all prayers: and indeed, her going to any of these Ceremonies, is but to spy and pry only vpon aduantages for such persons as she may preuaricate and make for her profit. And though shee bred thee vp, I am better acquainted with her qualities, then you are. That which shee doth ruminate: how many crack't maiden-heads shee hath then in cure; how many Louers in this City; how many young wenches are recommended vnto her; what Stewards afford her prouision; which is the more bountifull: and how she may call euery man by his name; that when shee chanceth to meet them, shee may not salute them as strangers. When you see her lips goe, then is she inuenting of lies, and deuising s • eights, and tricks for to get money; then doth she thus dispute with her selfe; In this maner will I make my speech; In this fashion will I cloze with him. Thus then will he answer mee; And to this I must thus reply. Thus liues this creature, whom we so highly honour.

Tush, this is nothing; I know more then this. But because you were angry the to' ther day, when I told Calisto so much, I will forbeare to speake of it.

Though wee may know so much for our owne good, yet let vs not publish it to our owne hurt; For, to haue our Master to know it, were but to make him discard her for such a one as she is, and not to care for her; and so leauing her, hee must needs haue •• ther, of whose paines wee shall reape no profit, as we shall be sure to doe by her, who by faire meanes, or by foule, shall giue vs part of her gaines.

Well, and wisely hast thou spoken; but hush: the doore is open, and shee in the house. Call before you goe in; peraduenture, they are not yet fully ready; or things are not in that order as they would haue it; and then will they be loth to be seene.

Goe in, man, neuer stand vpon those niceties; for we are all of a house. Now, iust now, they are couering the Table.

O my young amorous youths, my Pearles of gold! Let the yeere goe about as well with me, as you are both welcome vnto mee.

What complements has the old Bawd? Brother, I make no question, but you well enough perceiue her foystings, and her flatteries.

O! you must giue her leaue, it is her liuing. But I wonder what diuell taught her all her knacks, and her knaueries.

What? Mary, I will tell you. Necessity, Pouerty, and Hunger; then which there are no better. Tutours in the world: No better quickeners, and reuiuers of the wit. Who taught your Pyes, and your Parrats to imitate our proper Language, and tone, with their slit tongues, saue onely necessitie?

Hola: wenches, girles: where be you, you fooles? Come downe; Come hither quickly▪ I say; for there are a couple of yong Gallants that would rauish mee.

Would they would neuer haue come hither for me. O! it is a fine time of day! is this a fit houre, when you haue inuited your friends, to a feast? You haue made my cousin to waite heere these three long houres: but this same lazy-gut (Sempronio) was the cause I warrant you, of all this stay; for hee has no eyes to looke vpon mee.

Sweet-Heart; I pray thee be quiet. My Life, my Loue! you know full well, that he that serues another, is not his own man. He that is bound, must obey. So that my subiection frees me from blame. I pray thee be not angry. Come, let vs sit downe, and fall to our meate.

I, it is well, you are ready at all times to sit downe, and eate, as soone as the cloth is laid, with a cleane payre of hands, but a shamelesse face.

Come, we will chide and brawle after dinner: Now let vs fall to our vitailes. Mother Celestina, will it please you to sit downe first?

No, first sit you downe (my sonne) for heere is roome enough for vs all; let euery one take their place, as they like, and sit next her whom he loues best: as for me, who am a sole woman, I will sit me down heere by this Iar of wine, and this good goblet. For I can liue no longer, then while I talke with one of these two. Euer since that I was growne in yeeres, I know no better office at boord, then to fall a skinking, and to furnish the Table with pots and flagons: For he that handles hony, shall feele it still • linging to his fingers. Besides, in a cold winters night, you cannot haue a better warming-panne. For, when I tosse off two of these little pots, when I am e'en ready to goe into my bed, why, I feele not a iot of cold all the night long. With this, I furre all my clothes at Christmas: This warmes my blood; This keepes me still in one estate; This makes mee merry, where-e're I goe; This makes me looke fresh, and ruddy, as a Rose. Let me still haue store of this in my house, and a figge for a deare yeere, it shall neuer hurt mee: for one crust of Mouse-eaten bread will serue me three whole dayes; This driues away all care and sorrow from the heart, better then either Gold or Corall; This giues force to a young man, and vigour to an old man; It addes colour to the discoloured; courage to the coward; diligence to the slothfull; it comforteth the braine; it expels cold from the stomacke; it takes away the stinkingnesse of the breath; it makes cold constitutions, to be potent and actiue: it makes husbandmen endure the toyle of tillage; it makes your painefull and weary mowers to sweat out all their watrish ill humours; it remedies Rheumes; and cures the tooth-ache. This may you keepe long at Sea without stinking; so can you not water: I could tell you more properties of this wholsome liquor, than all of you haue hayres on your head. So that I know not the man, whom it doth not delight to heare it but mentioned, the very name of it is so pleasing: onely, it has but this one fault: That that which is good, costs vs deare; and that which is bad, does vs hurt; So that what maketh the Liuer sound, the same maketh the purse light; but for all this, I will be sure to seeke after the best; for that little which I drinke, which is onely some dozen times a meale. Which number, I neuer passe, vnlesse now, when I am feasted, or so.

It is the common opinion of all: That thrice in a dinner, is good, honest, competent, and sufficient for any man. And all that doe write thereof, doe allow you no more.

Sonne, the phrase is corrupted; they haue put three time, in stead of thirteene.

Aunt, wee all like well of your glosse. Let vs eate, and talke, and talke and eate: For else wee shall not afterwards haue time to discourse of the loue of our lost Master, and of that faire handsome, and courteous Melibea, louely gentle Melibea.

Get thee out of my sight, thou distastefull companion, thou disturber of my mirth; the Diuell choake thee with that thou hast eaten. Thou hast giuen me my dinner for to day; now as I liue, I am ready to rid my stomack, and to cast vp all that I haue in my body, to heare that thou shouldst call her faire and courteous, louely, and gentle. I pray thee how faire, how louely, how courteous, how gentle is she? It angers mee to the heart-bloud, to see you haue so little shame with you. How gentle, how faire is she, more then other women? Beleeue me, if she be as thou reportest her; nay, if she haue any iot in her of beauty, or any the least gracefulnesse. But I 〈◊〉 there are some eyes, that make • o difference betwixt • one, and my Lady, and that it is with euery one as hee likes, as the good man said, when he kist his Cow. Draffe I perceiue is good enough for Swine. I will crosse my selfe in pitty of thy great ignorance, and want of iudgement▪ Who I pray, had any minde to dispute with you, touching her beauty, and her gentlenesse? Gentle Melibea? Faire Melibea? And is Melibea so gentle, is shee so faire as you make her to be? Then it must be so; and then shall both these hit right in her, when two Sundaies come together. All the beauty shee hath, may be bought at euery Pedlers, or Painters shop for a penny matter, or the like trifle: and beleeue me, I my selfe, vpon mine owne knowledge, know, that in that very streete where shee • wels, there are foure maydens at the least, if not more, to whom Nature hath imparted a greater part of beauty, and other good graces in greater abundance, then she hath on Melibea; and if shee haue any iot of handsomenesse in her, shee may thanke her good clothes; her neate dressings, and costly Iewels, which if they were hung vpon a post, thou wouldst as well say by that too, that it were faire and gentle; and by my say (be it spoken without os • entation) I thinke my penny to be as good siluer as hers; and that I am euery way as faire as your Melibea.

O sister! hadst thou seene her as I haue seene her (I tell thee no lye) if thou shouldst haue met her fasting, thy stomacke would haue taken such a loathing, that all that day thou would'st not haue been able to haue eaten any meat. All the yeere long she is mewed vp at home, where she is dawbed ouer with a thousand sluttish slibber • slabbers; all which (forsooth) she must indure, for once perhaps going abroad in a twelue-month to be seene: shee anoynts her face with gall and honey, with parched grapes and figges crushed and pressed together, with many other things, which for manners sake, and reuerence of the Table, I omit to mention. It is their riches, that make such creatures as shee to be accounted faire; it is their wealth, that causeth them to be thus commended, and not the graces, and goodly features of their bodies. For, shee has such brests, being a maid, as if shee had been the mother of three children; and are for all the world, like nothing more, then two great Pompeans, or bigge bottled-Goords. Her belly I haue not seene, but iudging it by the rest, I verily beleeue it, to be as slacke, and as flaggy, as a woman of fifty yeere old. I know not what Calisto should see in her, that for her sake, hee should forsake the loue of others, whom hee may with great ease obtaine, and farre more pleasure inioy: Vnlesse it be, that like the Pallate that is distasted, hee thinketh sowre things the sweetest.

Sister, it seemeth here vnto me, that euery Pedler prayseth his owne needles; but I assure you, the quite contrary is spoken of her throughout the whole Citie.

There is nothing farther from truth, then the opinion of the vulgar, and nothing more false, then the reports of the multitude, nor shalt thou euer liue a merry life, if thou gouerne thy selfe by the will of the common people: and these conclusions, are vncontrollable, and infallibly true; that whatsoeuer thing the vulgar thinks, is vanity: whatsoeuer they speake, is false-hood: what they reproue, that is good: what they approue, that is bad, And since this is a true rule, and common custome amongst them, doe not iudge of Melibea's either goodnesse or beauty, by that which they affirme.

Gentlewomen; let mee answer you in a word. Your ill tongued multitude, and pratling vulgar, neuer pardon the faults of great persons, no, not of their Soueraigne himselfe, which makes me to thinke, that if Melibea had so many defects, as you taxe her withall, they would e're this haue beene discouered by those who know her better then wee doe. And howbeit I should admit all you haue spoken to be true, yet pardon me, if I presse you with this particular. Calisto is a Noble Gentleman; Melibea the Daughter of Honourable parents; So that, it is vsuall with those, that are descend • d of such high Linage, to seeke and inquire each after other; and therefore it is no maruell, if he rather loue her, then another.

Let him be base that holds himselfe base; they are the Noble Actions of men, that make men Noble. For in conclusion, we are all of one making flesh and bloud all. Let euery man striue to be good of himselfe, and not goe searching for his vertue in the Noblenesse of his Ancestors.

My good children; as you loue mee, cease this contentious kinde of talke: and you Elicia; I pray you come to the Table againe; sit you downe, I say, and doe not vexe, and grieue your selfe, as you doe.

With this condition, that my meate may be may poyson; and that my belly may burst with that I eate. Shall I sit downe and eate with this wicked Villaine, that hath stoutly maintained it to my face, and no body must say him nay, That Melibea: That Dishclout of his, is fairer then I?

I prythee (Sweet-heart) be quiet, it was you that made the comparison; and comparisons (you know) are odious: and therefore it is you that are in the fault, and not I.

Come, sister, come, and sit with vs; I pray, come eate with vs. Haue you no more wit, then to be angry with such a crosse foole as hee? I would not doe him so much pleasure, as to forbeare my meate for him; let him goe hang, if hee be peeuish, will you be peeuish too? I pray you sit downe, vnlesse you will haue me likewise to rise from the Table.

The necessity which I haue imposed vpon my selfe, to please thee in all things, and in all thy requests, makes mee against my will, to giue contentment to this enemy of mine; and to carry my selfe out of my respect to this good company more fairely towards him, then otherwise I would.

Sonne, I pray thee no more. Do not answer her; for then we shall neuer make an end: This is nothing to the present purpose; Let vs follow our businesse, and attend that which may tend to our good. Tell me, How does Calisto? How hap't it you left him thus all alone? How fell it out, that both of you could slip away from him?

He flung from vs with a vengeance, fretting and fuming like a mad-man, his eyes sparkeling foorth fire, his mouth venting forth curses, despairefull, discontented in minde, and like one that is halfe besides himselfe: and is now gone to Saint Mary Magdalens, to desire of God, that thou maist well and truely gnaw the bones of these Chickens; vowing neuer to come • ome, till hee heare that thou art come with Melibea in thy lap. Thy gowne and kirtle, and my cassocke are cock-sure. For the rest let the world slide; but when we shall haue it; that I know not, all the craft is in the catching.

Let it come when it will come, it shall be welcome, when e're it comes. A cassocke is good weare after winter. And sleeues are good after Easter: Euery thing makes the heart merry that is gotten with ease, and without any labour, especially comming from thence, where it leaues so small a gap, and from a man of that wealth and substance, who with the very branne and scraps of his house, would make me of a begget, to become rich: such is the surplus and store of his goods; and such as hee, it neuer grieues them what they spend, considering the cause wherefore they giue: For they feele it not; when they are in the heat and passion of their loue, it paines them not; they neither see, nor heare; which I iudge to be true by others, that I haue knowne to be lesse passionate, and lesse scorched in the fiery flames of loue, then Calisto is; in so much, that I haue seen them neither eat nor drink; neither laught nor weep; neither sleep nor wake; neither speake nor hold their peace; neither liue in paine, nor yet finde ease; neither be contented, nor yet complaine of discontentment, answerable to the perplexity of that sweet and cruell wound of their hearts. And if naturall necessity forceth them to any one of these, they are so wholly forgetfull of themselues, and strucke into such sudden senslesnesse of their present being and condition, that eating, their hands forget to carry their meat to their mouthes: Besides, if you talke with them, they neuer answer you directly. Their bodies are there with you, but where they loue, there are their hearts, and their senses. Great is the force of loue. His power doth not only reach ouer the earth, but passeth also ouer the seas. He holds an equall command ouer all mankinde. He breaks thorow all kinde of difficulties; and dangers whatsoeuer. It is a tormentfull thing, full of feare, and of care. His eye roles euery way; nothing can escape him. And if any of you that be heere, ing perhaps 100. stripes vpon them, and afterwards thrust them out of dores, with their haire about their cares, and their fardles at their backs, rating them in most vile manner, crying, Out of my doors, you thiefe, you whore, you strumpet: this is no place for such paltry baggages. Thou shalt not spoyle my house, I will not be thus dishonoured by thee. So that in stead of expected recompence, they receiue nothing but bitter reuilements. Where they expect to goe preferred out of the house, they goe preiudiced out of the house. And where they expect to be well married, they are quite mar'd in their reputation. And where they expect iewels and wedding apparell, there are they sent out naked, and disgraced: these are their rewards, these their benefits, and these the payments they receiue for their seruice. They are bound to giue them husbands, and in liew thereof, they strip them of their clothes. The greatest grace and honour which they haue in their Ladies house, is to be imployed in walking the streetes from one Ladie to another, and to deliuer their Ladies message▪ (As, My Lady hath sent to know how you doe? how you did rest to night? how your physicke wrought with you; and how many occasions it gaue your Ladiship, &c?) They neuer heare their owne name out of their Ladies mouth. But the best they can call them by, is, Come hither, you whore, Get you gone, you drabbe, or I'll set you going: Whither gadde you now, you mangy harlotry; you pockey slut? what haue you done to day, you loytring Queane? why did you eate this, you rauening thing, you gor-belly, you greedy cormorant? A you filthy Sow, how cleane this frying panne is kept? This pispot (Minion) it is well scowr'd, is it not? why you lazy bones, did you not brush my clothes, when I left them off, and make cleane my Mantle? Why said you thus and thus, you Sot, you foolish Asse? Who lost the piece of plate, you scatter-good, you draggle-tayle? Whats become of my handkercher, you purloyning thiefe? you haue giuen it to one of your copes-mates, some sweet-heart of yours, that must helpe to make you a whore: Come hither, you foule flappes, say▪ Where is my Henne, my cramm'd Henne, that I cannot finde her? you were best looke her mee out, and that quickly too, vnlesse you meane I shall make you pay for her, when I come to pay you your wages. And besides all this, her pantofles shall walke about her eares a thousand times a day; pinchings, cudgellings, and scourgings shall be as common to her as her meat and drinke. There is not any that knowes how to please and content them; not any that can indure their tartnesse and curstnesse: their delight is to speake loud; their glory to chide and to brawle, and the better one does, and the more one seeks to please them, the lesse are they contented. And this (mother) is the reason, why I haue rather desires to liue free from controlement, and to be mistresse in a poore little house of mine owne, then to liue a slaue, and at command in the richest palace of the proudest Lady of them all.

Much good to you (good Aunt) and to all this faire company and great meeting.

So great, daughter? hold you this so great a meeting? It appeares that you haue not knowne me in my prosperity, which is now some twenty yeeres since. There be those that haue seene mee in better case then I am now; and hee that now sees mee, I wonder his heart doth not burst with sorrow. I tell thee, (wench) I haue seene at this table, where your kinswomen now sit, nine gallant young wenches, much about your age; for the eldest was not aboue eighteene, and not one of them vnder foureteene. But such is this world, it comes and goes vpon wheeles. We are like pots in a water-wheele, or like buckets in a Well; one vp, and another downe, one full, and another empty; it is fortunes Law, that nothing can continue any long time in one, and the selfesame state of being. Her order is alteration; Her custome, change. I cannot without teares deliuer vnto you the great honour I then liu'd in; though now, (such is my ill fortune) by little and little, it hath gone decaying▪ And as my daies declined; so diminished and decreased my profit. It is an old saying; That whatsoeuer is in this world, it doth either increase or decrease. Euery thing hath it's limits; Euery thing it's degrees of more or lesse: my honour did mount to that height, as was fitting for a woman of my quality to rise vnto; and now of force, it must descend and fall as much: By this I know, that I am neere to my end, and that the Lease of my life is now expiring, and all my yeeres are almost spent and gone: and I also well know, that I did ascend, that I might descend; that I flourished, for to wither; that I had ioy, that I might haue sorrow; that I was borne to liue; liu'd, to grow; grew, to grow old; and grow old to dye: and though it did alwaies appeare vnto me, that I ought in this respect to suffer my misery the more patiently, yet as I am formed of flesh and bloud▪ and beare this heauy masse of sinne about me, I cannot but thinke on't now and then with griefe, nor can I wholy as I would, blot euery thought thereof out of the wofull role of my wretched remembrance.

Me thinkes (mother) it could not choose but be wondrous troublesome vnto you, to haue the charge of so many young wenches. For they are very dangerous Cattell to keepe, and will aske a great deale of paines.

Paines, Sweet-heart? Nay, they were an ease, and pleasure vnto me; they did all of them obey me; they did all of them honour me; they did all of them reuerence mee: not one of them that would swarue from my will: what I said, stood for a Law; it was good and currant amongst them; not any one of them, to whom I gaue entertainement, euer made their owne choise any further then it stood with my liking; were he lame, crooked, squint-ey'd, or crippled: all was one, he was the welcom'st and the soundest, that brought me the soundest gaines; mine was the profit, and theirs the paines. Besides, I needed no seruants; for in keeping them, I had seruants enow. Why, your Noblemen, your Knights, your old men, your young men, your learned men, men of all sorts and dignities, from the highest to the lowest; why, they were all at my seruice: and when I came to a feast, my foote was no sooner in, but I had presently as many Bonnets vailed vnto me, as if I had been a Dutchesse: he that had least acquaintance, least businesse with me, was held the most vile, and basest fellow. They spying me almost a League off; they would forsake their most earnest occasions, one by one, two by two, and come to me, to see if I would command them any seruice; and withall, aske me seuerally, how his loue, how his mistresse did? When they saw me once passe by, you should haue such a shuffling and scraping of feet, and all in such a generall gaze, and so out of order, that they did neither doe nor say any thing aright. One would call mee mistresse, another Aunt, others their loue, others honest old woman. There, they would consent, when they should come to my house: there they would agree when I should goe vnto theirs; there they would offer mee mony; there they would make me large promises; there likewise present me with gifts: some kissing the lappet of my Coat; and some other my cheeke, that by these kindesses, they might giue mee contentment, and worke me to their will. But now Fortune hath brought mee to so low a place in her wheele, that you may say vnto me, Mich you good dich you with your old ware, you hindges are now growne rustie for want of oyling.

Mother, you make my haire stand on end, to heare these strange things, which you recount vnto vs; would your Nobles, your Knights, and Learned men fall so low? I am sure, they are not all of them so badde as you make them to be.

No (my son) Ioue forbid that I should raise any such report, or lay a generall scandall vpon any of their ranke. For, there were many old good men amongst them, with whom I had but small dealings, and could scarce endure to see me: But amongst the greatest, as they grew great in number, so had I a great number of them: some of one sort, and some of another; some I found very chaste, and some that took the charge vpon them to maintaine such Traders as my selfe. And I am still of this beliefe, that of these there is no lack; and these, forsooth, would send their Squires and young men to waite vpon me, whithersoeuer I went: and I should scarce haue set my foote within mine owne doores, but straight at the heeles of me, you should haue one come in with chickens, another with Hens, a third with Geese, a fourth with Ducks. This man sends me in Partriges, that man Turtle Doues, he a gammon of Bacon, such a one a Tart, or a Custard; and some good fellow or other a good sucking Pigge, or two: for euery one, as soone as he had a conuenient present, so they came presently to register them in my house; that I, and those their pretty soules, might merrily eat them together: and as for wine, we wanted none; the best that a man could lay his lips to in the whole City, was sent vnto me from diuers parts and corners of the Towne: as that of Monviedro, of Lugne, of Toro, of Madrigall, of San-Martin, and many other Townes and Villages; And indeed so many, that albeit I still keepe the differences of their taste and relish in my mouth, yet doe I not retaine the diuersity of their foyles in my remembrance. For it is enough for such an old woman as I, that when a good cuppe of wine comes neer my nose, I can be able to say, This is such a wine, or it comes from such a place, or person; why, your presents from all parts, from all sorts came vpon me as thicke as hops, as flies to a pot of hony, or as stones that are throwne vpon a stage: boyes came tumbling in at my doore, with as much prouision, as they could carry on their backs. But now those good daies are past, I haue eaten all my white bread in my youth, and know not how in the world to liue, being fallen from so happy an estate.

Since we are come hither to be merry, (good mother) doe not weepe, I pray, doe not vexe your selfe: be of good cheere, plucke vp your heart like a woman; the world while wee are in it, is bound to keepe vs all, and no doubt but you shall haue enough.

O daughter! I haue cause enough, I think, to weep, when I call to mind those pleasant daies that are past and gone, that merry life which then I led, and how I had the world at will, being serued, honoured, and sought to of all. Why, then there was not any new fruit, or any the like dainty, which I had not in my hands, before others knew they were scarce blossom'd: in those daies, they were sure to be found in my house, if any one with child should long for such a Toy.

Mother, the remembrance of the good time we haue had, doth profit vs nothing, when it cannot be recouered againe, but rather brings griefe and sorrow to our selues, as this interrupting discourse hath done: but mother, we will goe off and solace our selues, whil'st you stay heere: and giue this maid her answer.

Daughter Lucrecia, passing ouer our former discourse, I pray you tell mee what is the cause of your happy comming hither?

Beleeue me, I had almost forgot my chiefe errand vnto you, with thinking on that merry time which you talkt of. Me thinkes, I could continue fasting almost a whole yeere in harkening vnto thee, and thinking on that pleasant life, which those young wenches led; me thinkes, that with the very talking therof, I haue a conceit with my selfe, that at this present, I feele my selfe in the same happinesse with them. I shall now, mistresse, giue you to vnderstand the cause of my comming: I am sent vnto you for my Ladies Girdle; and moreouer, my Ladie intreats you, that you would come and visit her, and that out of hand, for shee feeles her selfe very ill, and much pained and troubled with griefes and pangs about the heart; I assure you, she is very heart-sicke.

Of these petty griefes, the report is more then the paine. Is't about the heart, say you? I maruell (I promise you) that so young a Gentlewoman as shee is, should be pained at the heart.

Would thou wert as well drag'd along the streetes, (thou old traiterous Hagge) as thou know'st well inough what shee ayles. The subtill old Bawd comes, and does her witcheries, and her tricks, and then goes her waies, and afterwards when one comes vnto her for helpe, she makes forsooth as if she knew no such matter, it is newes (forsooth) to her.

Mary, I say (mother) would we were gone once; and that you would giue me the Girdle.

O thrice happy day! would I were at home with all my ioy, wherewith I goe laden. But I see Parmeno and Sempronio going to the Mi • tle-Groue: I will after them. And if I meete with Calisto there, we will all along together to his house, to demand a reward for the great good newes that I bring him.

Take heede, Sir, lest by your long stay, you giue occasion of talke to the world. For your honesty haue a care, that you make not your selfe become a by-word to the people. For now-a-dayes, it is commonly spoken amongst them, He is an Hypocrite, that is too deuout. For, what will they say of you, if they see you thus, but s •• ffe in dirision at you, and say, He is gone to the Mirtle-Groue to sacrifice some halfescore Hecatombes of sighs and ay-mees to Venus sonne, to prosper and preferred him to the fauour & fruition of some Mistresse? If you are opprest with passion, indure it at home in your owne house, that the world may not perceiue it. Discouer not your griefe vnto strangers, since the drumme is in their hands, who know best how to beate it: and your businesse in her hands, who knowes best how to manage it.

Who is that names Celestina? What saist thou of this slaue of Calisto's? I haue come trudging all along the Aug • rs street, to see if I could ouertake you, I did put my best legge formost, but all would not doe: the skirts of my Petticoate were so long, and did so often interfold themselues betweene my feet.

O thou ioy of the world! thou ease of my passions, thou relieueresse of my paine, my eyes looking-glasse, my heart doth euen exult for ioy, in beholding so honoured a presence, an age so innobled with yeeres; tell me, what is't thou com'st with, what good newes dost thou bring? For I see thou lookst cheerfully: And yet I know not of what tearmes my life doth stand; in what it consisteth.

What saist thou then? Speake, thou that art my glory and comfort. Deliuer it more at large vnto mee.

Sir, let vs first goe more priuately; and as wee goe home to your house, I will tell you that, which shall make you glad indeede.

Brother, the old woman lookes merrily; Sure, shee hath sped well to day.

All this day, Sir, haue I beene labouring in your businesse, and haue neglected other weighty and serious affaires, which did much concerne mee: many doe I suffer to liue in paine, onely that I may yeeld you comfort. Besides, I haue lost more by it, then you are aware of, but farewell it. All is well lost, sithence I haue brought my businesse to so good an end: And heare you mee, for I will tell it you in few words (for I loue to be short) Melibea is wholy at your seruice.

Nay, shee is more yours then her owne: more at your seruice and command, then of her father Pleberio.

Speake softly (good mother) take heede what you say; let not my men heare you, lest they should call thee foole. Melibea is my mistresse, Melibea is my desire, Melibea is my life, I am her ser • ant, I am her slaue.

Good Sir, with this distrustfulnesse of yours, with this vnderva • ewing of your selfe, you interse • t such doubts, as cut off Celestina, in the midst of her discourse; you would tire out a whole world with your disordered, and confused interruptions. Why doe you crosse & blesse your selfe? Why do you keep such a wondring? It were better you would giue her some thing for her paines. For these words are worthy better payment, and expect no lesse at your hands.

Well hast thou spoken, deare mother, I wot full well, that my small reward can no waies reward your paines; but instead of a gowne and a kirtle (because Trades-men shall not share with you) take this little chaine, put it about your necke, and goe on with your discourse, and my ioy.

Call you that a little chaine? Heard you him, Sempronio? This Spend-thrift makes no reckoning of it; but I assure you, I will not giue my part thereof for halfe a Marke of gold, let her share it neuer so ill.

Peace, I say, for should my Master haue ouer-heard you, you should haue had worke enough, to pacifie him, and to cure your selfe; So offended is he already with your continuall murmuring. As you loue me (brother) heare, and hold your peace; for to this end, thou hast two eares, and but one tongue.

He hath hang'd himselfe so fast to that old womans mouth, that hee is both deafe, dumbe and blind, like a body without a soule, or a bell without a clapper; insomuch, that if wee should point at him scornefully with our fingers, he would say, We lifted vp our hands to heauen, imploring his happy successe in his loue.

Peace, hearken, listen well vnto Celestina. On my soule, shee deserues it all, and more too, had hee giuen it her. She speakes wonders.

Noble Calisto, to such a poore weake old woman as my selfe, you haue shewed your selfe exceeding franke and liberall; but as euery gift is esteemed great, or little, in regard of him that giues it, I will not therefore compare therewith my small desert, which it surpasseth both in qualitie and quantitie; but rather measure it with your magnificence, before which it is nothing. In requitall whereof, I restore vnto thee thy health, which was vpon losing; thy heart, which was vpon fainting; and thy wits, which were vpon turning. Melibea is pained more for you, then you for her: Melibea loues you, and desires to see you: Melibea spends more houres in thinking vpon you, then on her selfe: Melibea calls her selfe thine; and this shee holds as a Title of libertie, and with this, shee allayes that fire, which burnes more in her, then thy selfe.

You my seruants; Am I heere? Heare I this? Looke whether I am awake or not? Is it day, or is it night? O thou great God of heauen, I beseech thee, this may not prooue a dreame; Sure, I doe not sleepe, mee thinkes I am fully awake. Tell mee, mother, dost thou make sport with mee, in paying me with words? Feare nothing, but tell mee the truth; for thy going to and fro deserueth a great deale more then this.

The heart, that is wounded with desire, neuer entertaineth good newes for certaine; nor bad for doubtfull. But whether I iest, or no; your selfe shall see, by going this night to her house (her selfe hauing agreed with mee about the time) appointing you to be iust there as the clocke strikes twelue, that you may talke together thorow the chinks of the doore; from whose owne mouth, you shall fully know my sollicitude, and her desire, and the loue which shee beares vnto you, and who hath caused it.

It is enough; Is it possible, I should hope for so great a happinesse? Can so great a blessing light vpon Calisto? I dye till that houre come. I am not capable of so great a glory. I doe not deserue so great a fauour, nor am I worthy to speake with so faire a Lady, who of her owne free-will, should affoord mee so great a grace.

I haue often heard, that it is harder to suffer prosperous, then aduerse fortune; because the one hath neuer any quietude, and the other still taketh comfort. It is strange, Sir, that you will not consider who you are, nor the time that you haue spent in her seruice; nor the person, whome you haue made to be your meanes: And likewise, that hitherto, thou hast euer beene in doubt of hauing her, and yet didst still endure all with patience; and now, that I doe certifie vnto thee the end of thy torment, wilt thou put an end to thy life? Consider, consider, I pray, with thy selfe, that Celestina is on thy side; and that although all should be wanting vnto thee, which in a Louer were to be required, I would sell thee for the most complete gallant of the world; for I would make for thee mountaines of most craggy rocks, to grow plaine, and smooth. Nay, more, I would make thee goe to thorow the deepest channell, or the lightest swelling sea, without wetting of thy foot: you know not on whom you haue bestowed your Largesse.

Remember your selfe, mother, did you not tell me, that shee would come to mee of her owne accord?

Pray heauen it be not a false alarme; one thing rumord, another purposed: It may be a false fire-worke, to blow vs all vp. I feare mee, it is a false traine, a made match, and a trappe purposely set to catch vs all. Bethinke your selfe, mother, that so men vse to giue crooked pinnes wrapt vp in bread; poysonsome pilles roll'd vp in Suger, that they may not be seene and perceiued.

I neuer heard thee speake better in my life: the sudden yeelding of this Lady, and her so speedy consenting to all that Celestina would haue her, ingenders a strong suspition within mee; and makes me to feare, that deceiuing our will with her sweet and ready words, she will rob vs on the wrong side, as your Gypsies vse to doe, when they looke in our hands to tell vs our fortunes. Besides, mother, it is an old saying: that with faire words, many wrongs are reuenged: and the counterfet stalking horse, which is made but of Canuasse, with his dissembled gate, and the alluring sound of the tinckling of a bell, driues the Partridges into the net: the songs of the Syrens deceiue the simple Mariner with the sweetenesse of their voices: Euen so, shee with her exceeding kindnesse, and sudden concession of her loue, will seaze hand-smooth on a whole droue of vs at once, and purge her innocency with Calisto's honour, and our deaths: Being like heerein to the teatling Lambe, which suckes both her damm's teat, and that of another Ewe. Shee by securing vs, will be reuenged both of Calisto, and all of vs; so that with the great number of people which they haue in the house, they may catch both the old ones and the young one together in the nest, whilest shee shrugging and rubbing her selfe by the fire side, may safely say, Hee is out of gun-shot, that rings the bell to the battell.

Peace, you Knaues, you Villaines, you suspitious Rascalls, will you make mee beleeue that Angels can doe ought that is ill? I tell you, Melibea is but a dissembled Angell, that liues heere amongst vs.

What? will you still play the Hereticke? Harken to him, Parmeno; but take thou no care at all; let it not trouble thee. For, if there be any double dealing, or that the play proue foule, he shall pay for all; for our feete be good, and wee will betake vs to our heeles.

Sir, you are in the right, and these in the wrong; ouer-lading their thoughts with vaine suspitions and iealousies; I haue done all that I was inioyned: and so I leaue you to your ioyes. Good Angels defend you and direct you: as for my selfe, I am very well satisfied. And if you shall haue further occasion to vse mee, eyther in this particular, or any thing else, you shall finde mee euer ready to doe you the best seruice I can.

To see what haste the old Trot makes to be gone: shee thinkes euery houre a yeere, till shee be gone cleare away with the chaine; she cannot perswade her selfe, that it is as yet sure inough in her hands; for shee knowes, that shee is as little worthy of that chaine, as Calisto is of his Melibea.

What would you haue such an old whorish Bawd as she, to doe? who knowes and vnderstands that which wee silence and keepe secret, and vseth to patch vp seuen Virginities at a clap for two pieces of Siluer: And now, that shee sees her selfe to be laden with gold, what, I say, would you haue her to doe, but to make it safe and sure, by taking possession thereof, for feare lest hee should take it from her againe, after that hee hath had his desire? But let vs beware of the Diuell, and take heede that wee goe not together by the • ares, when wee come to deuide the spoyle.

Mother, fare you well, I will lay mee downe to sleepe, and rest my selfe a while, that I may redeeme the nights past, and satisfie the better for that, which is to come.

How chance you come so late? It is not well done of you (being an old woman, as you are) for you may hap to stumble, where you may so fall, that it may be your death.

I feare not that (wench:) For I consult with my selfe in the day, which way I shall goe in the night; for I neuer goe neere any bridge, bench, pit or Causey: for (as it is in the Prouerbe) He goes not safe, nor neuer shall, who goes too close vnto the wall: And hee goes still most safe and sound, whose steps are plaste on plainest ground: and I had rather foule my shooes with durt, then be-bloody my Kerchiefe at euery walls corner. But does it not grieue thee to be heere?

Because the company I left heere with you, is gone, and you are all alone.

It is some foure houres agoe, since they went hence; and would you haue mee to thinke on that now?

Indeed the sooner they left you, the more reason you had to thinke thereon; but let vs leaue to talke of their speedy going, and of my long staying, and let vs first prouide for our supper, and then for our sleepe.

Me thinks, the Gentleman, whome we looke for, stayes very long. Tel me (Lucrecia) what think'st thou? will he come, or no?

I conceiue (Madame) he hath some iust cause of stay, and it is not in his power to come so soone as you expect.

Good spirits be his guard, and preserue his person from perill. For, his long stay doth not so much grieue mee: but I am afraid, lest some misfortune or other may befall him, as he is on his way vnto vs. For, who knowes, whether he cōming so willingly to the place appointed, and in that kind of fashion, as such Gentlemen as hee, on the like occasion, and the like houre vse to goe; whether, or no, I say, he may chance to light vpon the night-watch, or be met by the Alguazils, and they not knowing him, haue set vpon him, and he to defend himselfe, hath either hurt them, or they him? Or whether some roguish Curre or other with his cruel teeth (for such dogs, as they make no difference of persons,) haue • perhaps vnfortunately bit him? Or whether, he hath fallen vpon the Causey, or into some dangerous pit, whereby he may receiue some harme? But (Ay me) these are but inconueniences which my conceiued loue brings forth, and my troubled thoughts present vnto me. Goodnes forbid, that any of these misfortunes should befall him! Rather let him stay as long as it shall please himselfe from comming to visit mee. But harke, harke, what steps are those that▪ I heare in the street? And to my thinking likewise, I heare somebody talking on this side of the garden.

Tristan, set the ladder here; for, though it be the higher, yet I take it to be the better place.

Get vp, Sir: And I will along with you. For, we know not who is there within, they are talking (I am sure) who-ere they be.

Stay here (you foole) I will in alone, for I heare my Lady and Mistris.

Your seruant, your slaue, Calisto, who prizes more yours then her owne life. O my deare Lord, take heed how you leape, leape not downe so high; you kill me, if you doe: I shall swound in seeing it. Come downe, come downe gently, I pray. Take more leasure in comming downe the ladder; as you lo • e mee, come not so fast.

O diuine Image; O precious pearle; before whom, the whole world appeareth foule! O my Lady and my glory; I imbrace and hug thee in mine armes, and yet I not beleeue it: such a turbation of pleasure seazeth on my person, that it makes me not feele the fulnes of that ioy I possesse.

My Lord, • ithence I haue intrusted my selfe in your hands, since I haue beene willing to cumply with your will, let me not be worse thought of for being pittifull, then if I had bene coy and mercilesse. Nor doe not worke my vndoing, for a delight so momentary and performed in so short a space. For, Actions that are ill, after they are committed, may easier be reprehended then amended. Reioyce thou in that, wherein I reioyce; which is, to see and draw neere vnto thy person, to view and touch thee. But do not offer either to aske or take that, which being taken away, is not in thy power to restore. Take heed (Sir) that you goe not about to ouerthrow that, which with all the wealth in the world, you are not able to repaire.

Deare Lady, since for to obtaine this fauour, I haue spent my whole life, what folly were it in me, to refuse that which you haue so kindly conferr'd vpon me? Nor (Madame) do I hope, that you will • ay so hard a command vpon me, or if you should, yet haue I not power to containe my selfe within the limits of your command. Doe not impose such a point of cowardize vpon me: For I tell you, it is not in any man that is a man, to forbeare in such a case, and to condition so hard with himselfe; much lesse in mee, louing as I do, and hauing swumme, as I haue done all my life long, thorow this sea of thy desire and mine owne loue. Will you then after my so many trauels, deny me entrance into that sweet hauen, where I may find some ease of all my former sorrowes?

As you loue me (Calisto) though my tongue take liberty to talke what it will; yet, I prythee, let not thy hands doe all what they can. Be quiet (good Sir) since I am yours, suffice it you content your selfe in the inioying of this outwardnes, which is the proper fruit of Louers, and not to robbe me of the greatest ewell, which Nature hath inrich't mee with; Consider besides, That it is the property of a good shepheard, to fleece, but not to flay his sheep; to sheare them, but not to vncase them.

Madame, What meane you by this? That my passions should not be at peace? That I shall runne ouer my torments anew? That I shall returne to my old yoke againe? Pardon (Sweet Lady) these my impudent hands, if too presumptuously they presse vpon you, which once did neuer thinke (so all together were they vnworthy) not to touch, no not so much as any part of thy garments, that they now haue leaue to lay themselues with a gentle palme on this • ainty body of thine, this most white, soft, and delicate flesh.

And why Madame? I should be proud to haue such witnesses as she of my glory.

So would not I, when I doe amisse. And had I but thought that you would haue vs'd mee thus, or beene but halfe so violent, as I now see you are; I would not haue trusted my person with such a rough and cruell conuersation.

I heare so much, that I hold my Master the happiest man that liues. And I assure thee (though I am but a boy to speake of) me thinks, I could giue as good account of such a businesse as my Master.

To such a iewell as this, who would not reach out his hand? But allow him this flesh to his bread, and much good may it doe him. For, he hath paid well for it: for a couple of his seruants serued to make sauce for this his Loue.

I had quite forgot that. But let them die, as instruments of their owne destruction. And let others as many as will, play the fools vpon affiance to be defēded. But for mine owne part, I well remember when I seru'd the Count, that my father gaue mee this Councell: that I should take heed how I kill'd a man. Of all other things, that I should beware of that. For (quoth hee) you shall see the Master merry and kindly imbraced, when his man (poore soule) shall be hanged and disgraced.

O my life and my deare Lord, how could you finde in your heart, that I should lose the name and crowne of a Virgin, for so momentary and so short a pleasure? O my poore Mother, If thou didst but know what wee haue done, with what willingnes wouldst thou take thine owne death? and with what violence and inforcement giue mee mine? How cruell a butcher wouldst thou become of thine owne blood? And how dolefull an end should I bee of thy dayes? O my most honoured father, how haue I wrong'd thy reputation? And giuen both opportunitie and place to the vtter ouerthrowing and vndoing of thy house? O Traitour that I am! Why did I not first looke into that great error, which would insue by thy entrance, as also that great danger; which I could not but expect?

You should haue sung this song before. Now, it comes too late: you know, it is an old saying; when a thing is done, it cannot be vndone. There is no fence for it, but what, if the foole Calisto should hap to heare me?

Is it possible? Looke and it be not day already: Me thinks, we haue not been here aboue an houre, and the Clock now stricks three.

My Lord, for Ioues loue, now that all that I haue, is yours; now, that I am your Mistris; now, that you cannot denie my loue; deny mee not your sight. And on such nights as you shall resolue to come, let your comming bee by this secret place, and at the selfe same houre: for then, shall I still looke for you prepared with the same ioy, wherewith I now comfort my selfe in the hopefull expectation of those sweete nights that are to come. And so for this present, I will take my leaue. Farewell (my Lord) my hope is, that you will not be discouered, for it is very darke; Nor I heard in the house, for it is not yet day.

Doe you heare there? bring hither the ladder:

Sir, it is here ready for you to come downe.

Lucrecia, come hither, I am now all alone. My Loue is gone, who hath left his heart with me, and hath taken mine with him. Didst thou not heare vs, Lucrecia?

Tristan, wee must goe very softely, and not speake a word. For, iust about this time, rise your rich men, your couetous money-mongers, your penny-fathers, your Venereans and Loue-sicke soules, such as our Master; your day-labourers, your plough-men and your sheepheards; who about this time vnpinne their sheepe, and bring them to their sheepcotts to be milk't. And it may be, they may heare some word escape vs, which may wrong either Calisto's or Melibea's honour.

Now you silly Asse, you whoresonne Horse-currier, you would haue vs make no noise, not a word, but Mumme▪ and yet thy selfe doest name her. Thou art an excellent fellow▪ to make a Guide or Leader to conduct an Army in the Moores Countrey: so that prohibiting, thou permittest; couering, thou discouerest; defending, offendest; bidding others hold their peace, thou thy selfe speak'st alowd, nay, proclaimes it; and proclaiming, makes answer thereunto. But though you are so subtill witted and of so discreet a temper, you shall not tell mee in what moneth our Lady day in haruest falls. For we know that we haue more straw in the house this yeere, then thou art able to eat.

My Masters, what a noise make you there? My cares and yours are not alike. Enter softely, I pray, and leaue your pratling, that they in the house may not heare vs; Shut this doore, and let vs go take our rest. For, I will vp alone to my chamber, and there disarme mee. Goe get you to bed; O wretch that I am, how su • able and naturall vnto mee is solitarinesse, silence, and darkenes. I know not whether the cause of it be, that there commeth now to minde, the treason that I haue committed in taking my leaue of that Lady, whom I so dearelie loue, before it was further day? Or whether it be the griefe, which I conceiue of my dishonour, by the death of my seruants? I, I; this is it that greiues mee, this is that wound whereof I bleed. Now, that I am growen a little cooler; now, that that bloud waxeth cold, which yesterday did 〈◊〉 in mee; now that I see the decaying of my house, my want of seruice, the wasting of my patrimony, and the infamie which lights vpon mee by the death of my seruants? what haue I done? How can I possibly containe my selfe? How can I forbeare any longer, but that I should presently expresse my selfe, as a man much wronged? and shew my selfe a proud & speedy reuenger of that open iniurie • which hath been offered mee? O the miserable sweetnes of this most short and transitorie life! who is he so couetous of thy countenance, who will not rather choose to die presently, then to inioy a whole yeere of a shamfull life? and to prorogue it with dishonour, loosing the good report and honourable memory of his noble Ancestours? Especially, sithence that in this world, wee haue not any certaine or limited time: no not so much as a moment or a minute. We are debtours without time: wee stand continually bound to present payment. Why haue I not gone abroad, and made all the inquiry I can, after the secret cause of my open perdition? O thou short delight of the world, how little do thy pleasure last? and how much doe they cost? Repentance should not be bought so deare. O miserable that I am, when shall I recouer so great a losse? what shall I doe? what counsell shall I take? To whom shall I discouer my disgrace? why do I conceale it from the rest of my seruants and kinsefolke? They clip and note my good name in their Councell-house and publike Assemblie, and make mee infamous throughout the whole Kingdome: and they of mine owne house and kindred must not know of it; I will out amongst them. But if I goe out and tell them that I was present, it is too late; if absent, it is too soone. And to prouide mee of friends, antient seruants, and neere àllyes, it will aske some time, as likewise that we be furnish'd with Armes, and other preparations of vengeance. O thou cruell Iudge, what ill payment hast thou made mee of that my fathers bread, which so often thou hast eaten? I thought, that by thy fauour I might haue kill'd a thousand men without controlment. O thou falsifier of faith, thou persecutor of the truth, thou man moulded of the baser sort of earth! Truly is the prouerbe verified in thee; that for want of good men thou wast made a Iudge. Thou shouldst haue considered, that thy selfe, and those thou didst put to death, were seruants to my Ancestors and me, and thy fellowes and companions. But when the base to riches doth ascend, he regardeth neither kindred nor friend. Who would haue thought, that thou wouldst haue wrought my vndoing? But there is nothing more hurtfull, then an vnexpected enemy. Why wouldst thou that it should be verified of thee, That that which came out of Aetna, should consume Aetna? And that I hatcht the Crow, which pick't out mine eyes? Thou thy se • fe art a publike delinquent, and yet punishest those that were priuate offendors. But I would haue thee to know; that a priuate fault is lesse then a publike, and lesse the inconuenience and danger: At least, according to the Lawes of Athens, which were not written in blood, but doe shew that it is a lesse error, not to condemne a delinquent, then to punish the innocent. O how hard a matter is it, to follow a iust cause before an vniust Iudge! How much more this excesse of my seruants, which was not free from offence! But consider with all spite of all Stoicall Paradoxe, their guilt was not equall, though their sufferings alike. What deseru'd the one, for that which the other did? That onely because he was his companion, thou shouldst doome them both to death? But why doe I talke thus? With whom doe I discourse? Am I in my right wits? What's the matter with thee, Calisto? Dream'st thou, sleep'st thou, or wak'st thou? Stand'st thou on thy feete? Or liest thou all along? Consider with thy selfe that thou art in thy chamber. Doest thou not see that the offendor is not present? With whome doest thou contend? Come againe to thy self; weigh with thy selfe, that the absent were neuer fōnd iust. But if thou wilt be vpright in thy iudgement, thou must keepe an eare for either party. Doest thou not see, that the Law is supposed to be equall vnto all? Remember that Romulus, the first founder of Rome, kill'd his owne brother, because he transgressed the Law. Consider that Torquatus the Romane slew his owne sonne, because he exceeded his Commission. And many other like vnto these did this man doe. Thinke likewise with thy selfe, that if the Iudge were here present, hee would make thee this Answer; that the Principall and the Accessary, the Actor and Consenter, doe merit equall punishment. Howbeit, they were both notwithstanding executed, for that which was cōmitted but by one. And if that other had not his pardon, but receiued a speedy iudgement, it was, because the fault was notorious, and needed no further proofes: as also that they were taken in the very Act of murther, and that one of them was found dead of his fall from the window. And it is likewise to be imagined, That that weeping wench which Celestina kept in her house, made them to hasten the more by her wofull and lamentable noyse: And that the Iudge, that he might not make a hurly burly of it, that he might not defame mee, and that he might not stay till the people should presse together, and heare the proclaiming of that great infamy, which could not choose but follow mee, hee did sentence them so early as he did; and the common Hangman, which was the Cryer, could doe no otherwise, that he might cumply with their execution and his owne discharge. All which, if it were done as I conceiue it to bee, I ought rather to rest his debtor, and thinke my selfe bound vnto him the longest day of my life, not as to my fathers sometimes seruant, but as to my true and naturall brother. But put case it were not so; or suppose I should not co • ster it in the better sence, yet call, Calisto, to mind the great ioy and solace thou hast had, bethinke thy selfe of thy sweete Lady and Mistrisse, and thy whole and sole happines: and since for her sake thou esteemest thy life as nothing for to doe her seruice, thou art not to make any reckoning of the death of others: and the rather, because no sorrow can equall thy receiued pleasure. O my Lady and my life, that I should euer thinke to offend thee in thy absence! And yet in doing as I doe, me thinks, it argues against mee, that I hold in small esteeme that great and singular fauour, which I haue receiued at thy hands. I will now no longer thinke on griefe; I will no longer entertaine friendship with sorrow. O incomparable good! O insatiable contentment! And what could I haue asked more of heauen, in requitall of all my merits in this life (if they be any) then that which I haue already receiued? Why should I not concent my selfe with so great a blessing? which being so, it stands not with reason that I should be vngratefull vnto him, who hath conferr'd vpon mee so great a good: I will therefore acknowledge it, I will not with care craze my vnderstanding, lest that being lost, I should fall from so high and so glorious a possession. I desire no other honour, no other glory, no other riches, no other father nor mother, no other friends nor kinsfolkes. In the day, I will abide in my chamber: In the night, in that sweete Paradise, in that pleasant groue, that greene plot of ground amidst those sweete trees and fresh and delightsome walks. O night of sweet rest and quiet! O that thou hadst made thy returne! O bright shining Phoebus, driue on thy Charriot apace, make haste to thy iourneys end. O comfortable and delightfull starres, breake your wont, and appeare before your time, & out of your wonted and continued course! O dull and slow clocke, I wish to see thee burned in the quickest and loueliest fire that Loue can make. For didst thou but expect that which I doe, when thou strikest twelue, thou wouldst neuer indure to bee tyed to the will of the master that made thee! O yee hyematicall and winterly months, which now hide your heads, and liue in darknes and obscurity! Why haste yee not to cut off these tedious daies with your longer nights? Me thinks, it is almost a yeere, since I saw that sweete comfort and most delightfull refreshing of my trauels. But what doe I aske? Why like a foole doe I, out of impatiencie desire that which neuer either was or shall bee? For your naturall courses did neuer learne to wheele away. For to all of them there is an equall course, to all of them one and the selfe-same space and time. Not so much as to life and death, but there is a settled and limited end. The secret motions of the high firmament of heauen, of the Planets and the North-starre, and of the increase and wane of the Moone, all of these are ruled with an equall reyne, all of these are moued with an equall spurre. Heauen, Earth, Sea, Fire, Wind, Heate and Cold. What will it benefit me, that this clocke of yron should strike twelue, if that of heauen doe not hammer with it? And therefore though I rise neuer so soone, it will neuer the sooner be day. But thou my sweete Imagination, thou, who canst onely helpe me in this case, bring thou vnto my Phantasie the vnparaleld presence of that glorious Image. Cause thou to come vnto my eares that sweete Musicke of her words, those her vnwilling hangings off without profit, that her prety, I prythee leaue off; Forbeare, good Sir, if you loue me; Touch me not; Doe not deale so discourteously with me. Out of whose ruddy lips, me thinks, I heare these words still sound, Doe not seek my vndoing: which she would euermore be out withall. Besides, those her amorous imbracements betwixt euery word; that her loosing of her selfe from me; and clypping mee againe; that her flying from mee and her comming to mee; those her sweete sugred Kisses; and that her last salutation wherewith shee tooke her leaue of mee. O with what paine did it issue from her mouth! with what resuscitation of her spirits! with how many teares, which did seeme to be so many round pearles, which did fall without any noyse from her cleare and resplendent eyes!

What thinkst thou of Calisto? How hath he slept? It is now vpon foure of the clocke in the after-noone, and he hath neyther as yet called vs, nor eaten any thing.

Hold your peace, for sleepe requires no haste. Besides, on the one side, he is oppressed with sadnes and melancholy for his seruants: and on the other side transported with that gladsome delight and singular great pleasure, which he hath inioyed with his Melibea. And thou know'st, that where two such strong and contrary passions meete, in whomsoeuer they shall house themselues, with what forcible violence they will worke vpon a weake and feeble subiect.

Dost thou thinke that he takes any great griefe and care for those that are dead? If she did not grieue more, whom I see here out of the window goe along the street, she would not weare a vayle that colour as she does.

Come hither and see her, before she be past. Seest thou that mournefull mayd, which wipes the teares from her eyes? That is Elicia, Celestina's seruant, and Sempronio's friend: she is a good, pretty, handsome, wel-fauoured wench, though now (poore soule) • hee be left to the wide world, and forsaken of all. For shee accounted Celestina her mother, and Sempronio her chiefest and best friend. And in that house, where you see her now enter, there dwels a very fayre woman, she is exceeding wel-fauoured, very fresh and louely, she is halfe Courtezane; yet happy is hee, and counts himselfe so to be, that can purchase her fauour at an easie rate, and winne her to be his friend. Her name is Areusa, for whose sake, I know, that vnfortunate and poore Parmeno indured many a miserable night. And I know, that shee (poore soule) is nothing pleased with his death.

Why Pleberio? my Lord! what's the matter? why doe you weepe and snobbe? and take on in such extreme and violent manner? I haue lyen euer since in a dead swound, so was I ouercome with griefe, when I heard that our daughter was so ill. And now hearing your pittifull lamentations, your loude cryings, your vnaccustomed complaints, your mournings and great anguish, they haue so pierced my very bowels, made so quicke a passage to my heart, and haue so quickned and reuiued my troubled and benummed senses, that I haue now put away the griefe, which I entertained: thus one griefe driues out another; and sorrow expelleth sorrow. Tell mee the cause of your complaint; Why doe you curse your honorable old age? Why do you desire death? Why doe you teare your milke-white hayres vp by the roates? Why doe you scratch, and rend your reuerend face? Is any ill befalne Melibea? For I pray you tell mee; for if shee be not well, I cannot liue.

Out alas! Ay mee; (my most noble wife.) Our solace is in the suds; our ioy is turn'd into annoy; all our conceiued hopes are vtterly lost; all our happinesse is quite ouerthrowne; let vs now no longer desire to liue. And because vnexpected sorrowes leaue a greater impression of griefe; and because they may bring thee the sooner to thy graue; as also, that I may not alone by my selfe bewayle that heauy losse which belongs to vs both; looke out and behold her, whom thou broughtst forth, and I begot, dash't and broken all to pieces. The cause I vnderstood from her selfe, but layd open more at large, by this her sadde and sorrowfull seruant. Helpe to lament these our latter daies, which are now growing to an end. O yee good people, who come to behold my sorrowes, and you Gentlemen, my louing friends, doe you also assist to bewayle my misery! O my daughter! and my onely good! it were cruelty in mee, that I should out-liue thee. My threescore yeeres were fitter for the graue, then thy twenty; but the order of my dying was altred by that extremity of griefe, which did hasten thy end. O yee my boary hayres, growne foorth to no other end, saue sorrow; it would better haue suted with you, to haue beene buryed in the earth, then with these golden tresses which lye heere before mee. Too too many are the dayes that I haue yet to liue; I will complaine and cry out against death; I will accuse him of delay; how long will hee suffer mee to remaine heere after thee! Let my life now leaue mee, since I must leaue thy sweet company. O my deare wife, rise vp from her, and if any life be left in thee, spend that little with mee in teares and lamentations, in sobbes, and in sighes; but in case thy soule resteth now with hers; if out of very griefe, thou hast left this life, why wouldst thou lay this heauy burthen on mee? why let mee remaine heere alone, and haue no body to help me in the vnsheathing of my sorrowes? In this, yee women haue a great aduantage of vs that are men; for some violent griefe can make you goe out of the world without any paine; or at least cast you into a swound, which is some ease to your sorrowes. O the hard heart of a father, why dost thou not burst with griefe? why doe not your heart-strings crack in sunder, to see thy selfe bereau'd of thy beloued heyre? For whom didst thou build these Turrets? For whom got I honours? For whom planted trees? For whom built ships? O hard-hearted earth, why dost thou beare me any longer? Where shall my disconsolate old age finde any resting place? O variable fortune, and full of change, thou Ministresse, and high Stewardesse of all temporall happinesse; Why didst thou not execute thy cruell anger vpon mee? Why didst thou not ouerwhelme him with thy mutable waues, who professes himselfe to be thy subiect? Why didst thou not rob mee of my patrimony? Why didst thou not set fire on my house? Why didst thou not lay waste mine inheritance? Why didst thou not strip mee of my great reuenewes? What is't I would not thou shouldst haue done, so as thou hadst left mee that flourishing young plant, ouer which thou ought'st not to haue had such power? Thou might'st, O fortune (fluctuant, and fluent as thou art) haue giuen me a sorrowfull youth, and a mirthfull age; neyther haue therein peruerted order. Better could I haue borne thy blowe, better indured thy persecutions, in that my more strong, and Oaky age, then in this my weake and feeble declining. O life fulfill'd with griefe, and accompanied with nought but misery! O world, world! much haue men spoken of thee, much haue men writ concerning thy deceits; and much haue I heard my selfe: And mine owne wofull experience is able to say something of thee, as one who haue bin in the vnfortunate fayre, and haue often bought and sold with thee, but neuer had any thing that succeeded happily with mee. As one who many a time heeretofore, euen to this present houre, haue silenced thy false properties, and all because I would not purchase thy displeasure, and pull thy hatred vpon mee: and that thou shouldst not vntimely plucke this flowre from me, which this day thou hast cropt by the mightinesse of thy power. And therefore now will I goe without feare, like one that hath nothing to lose; or as one to whom thy company is now odious and troublesome; or like a poore traueller, who fearelesse of theeues, goes singing on his way. I thought in my more tender yeeres, that both thou and thy actions were gouerned by order, and ruled by reason: But now I see thou art Pro and Con; there is no certainty in thy calmes: thou seemest now vnto me to be a Labyrinth of errours; a fearefull wildernesse; an habitation of wilde Beasts; a Dance full of changes; a Fen full of mire, and dirt; a Country full of thornes; a steepe and craggy mountaine, a field full of stones; a meddow full of Snakes and Serpents; a pleasant garden to looke to, but without any fruite; a fountaine of cares, a riuer of teares, a sea of miseries; trouble without profit; a sweet poyson, a vaine hope, a false ioy, and a true sorrow. O thou false world! thou dost cast before vs the baytes of thy best delights, and when we haue swallowed them, they seeming sauoury vnto vs, then doest thou shew vs the hooke that must choake vs. Nor can we auoyd it, because together with vs, thou dost captiuate our wills: Thou promisest mountaines, but performest Mole-hils: and then thou dost cast vs off, that wee may not put thee in minde of making good thy vaine promises. We runne thorow the spacious fields of thy ranke vices, retchles • y, and with a loose reyne; and then doest thou discouer thy ambushes vnto vs, when thou seest there is no way forvs to retreat. Many haue forsaken thee, fearing thy sudden forsaking of them. And well may they stile themselues happy, when they shall see, how well thou hast rewarded this poore heauy sorrowfull old man, for his long seruice. Thou dost put out our eyes, and then to make vs amends, thou anointest the place with oyle: thou breakest our head, and giuest vs a plaister; after thou hast done vs a great deale of harme, thou giuest vs a poore cold comfort; thou dost hurt vnto all, that no man may boast, that others haue not their crosses as well as wee; telling them, that it is some ease to the miserable, to haue companions in their misery. But I alas, disconsolate old man stand all alone. I am singuler in my sorrowes; I am grieued, and haue no equall companion of my griefe. No mans misfortune is like vnto mine; though I reuolue in my troubled memory, persons both present and past, I cannot instance in the like. If I shall seeke to comfort my selfe with the seuerity and patience of Paulus Aemilius, who hauing lost two sonnes in seuen daies, bore this brunt of fortune with so vndaunted a courage, that the people of Rome had rather neede to be comforted by him, then he by them; yet cannot this satisfie mee, for hee had two more remaining that were his adopted sonnes. What companion then will they allot me of my misery? Pericles, that braue Athenian Captaine? or valiant Xenophon? Tush, they lost sonnes indeed, but their sonnes dyed out of their sight, hauing lost their liues abroad in forraine Countries, far from home; so that it was not much for the one, not to change countenanee, but to take it cheerefully: nor for the other to answer the messenger, who brought him the ill tydings of his sonnes deaths, that he should receiue no punishment, because himselfe had receiued no griefe; for all this is farre differing from mine; lesse canst thou say (thou world replenished with euill) that Anaxagoras, and I, were alike in our losse; that wee were equall in our griefes: and that I should say of my dead daughter, as he did of his onely sonne, when he said; Being that I was mortall, I knew, that he whom I had begot was to die. For my Melibea, willingly, and out of her owne election, killed her selfe before mine eyes, inforced thereunto through the extreme passion of her loue, so great was her torment; whereas his sonne was slaine in battell, in a iust and lawfull warre. O incomparable losse; O most wretched and sorrowfull old man that I am! who the more I seeke after comfort, the lesse reason doe I finde for my comfort; for much more miserable doe I finde my misfortune, and doe not so much grieue at her death, as I doe lament the manner of her death. Now shall I lose together with thee (most vnhappy daughter) those feares, which were daily wont to affright mee. Onely thy death is that which makes mee secure of all suspitions and iealousies. What shall I doe, when I shall come into thy chamber, and thy withdrawing roome, and shall finde it solitary and empty? What shall I doe, when as I shall call thee, and thou shalt not answer me? Who is he that can supply that want which thou hast caused? Who can stop vp that great breach in my heart which thou hast made? Neuer any man did lose that which I haue lost this day. Thogh in some sort, that great fortitude of Lambas de Auria, Duke of Genoa, seemeth to sute with my present estate and condition, who seeing his sonne was wounded to death, tooke him and threw him with his owne armes foorth of the shippe into the sea. But such kinde of deaths as these, though they take away life, yet they giue reputation; and many times, men are inforced to vndergoe such actions, for to cumply with their honour, and get themselues fame and renowne. But what did inforce my daughter to dye, but onely the strong force of loue? What remedy now, (thou flattering world) wilt thou affoord my wearisome age? How wouldst thou haue me to rely vpon thee, I knowing thy falsehoods, thy gins, thy snares, and thy nets, wherein thou intrap'st and takest our weake and feeble wills? Tell me, what hast thou done with my daughter? where hast thou bestow'd her? who shall accompany my disaccompanied habitation? who shall cherish me in mine old age? who with gentle vsage shall cocker my decaying yeeres? O Loue, Loue, I did not thinke thou hadst had the power to kill thy subiects! I was wounded by thee in my youth: did passe thorow the midst of thy flames. Why didst thou let me scape? Was it that thou might'st pay me home (for my flying from thee then) in mine old age? I had well thought, that I had bin freed from thy snares, when I once began to growe towards forty; and when I rested contented with my wedded consort, and when I saw I had that fruit, which this day thou hast cut down, I did not dreame that thou would'st in the children haue taken vengeance of the parents; and I know not whether thou woundest with the sword, or burnest with fire. Thou leauest our clothes whole, and yet most cruelly woundest our hearts; thou makest that which is foule, to seeme fayre and beautifull vnto vs. Who gaue thee so great a power? who gaue thee that name which so ill befitteth thee? If thou wert Loue, thou wouldst loue thy seruants; and if thou didst loue them, thou wouldst not punish them as thou dost. If to be thy fellow, were to liue merrily, so many would not kill themselues, as my daughter now hath, & infinit of vs. What end haue thy seruants and their Ministers had? as also that false Bawd, Celestina, who dy'd by the hands of the faithfullest companions, that euer she lighted vpon in her life, for their true performance in this thy venomous & impoisoned seruice? They lost their heads; Calisto, he brake his necke; and my daughter, to imitate him, submitted her selfe to the selfe-same death. And of all this thou wast the cause; they gaue thee a sweete name; but thy deedes are exceeding sowre: thou dost not giue equall rewards; and that Law is vniust, which is not equall alike vnto all. Thy voyce promiseth pleasure, but thy actions proclaime paine; happy are they who haue not knowne thee, or knowing thee, haue not cared for thee. Some ledde with, I know not what error, haue not stickt to call thee a god; But I would haue such fooles as these to consider with themselues, it sauors not of a Deity, to murder or destroy those that serue and follow him. O thou enemy to all reason! To those that serue thee least, thou giuest thy greatest rewards, vntill thou hast brought them at last into this thy troublesome dance. Thou art an enemy to thy friends, and a friend to thy enemies; and all this is, because thou dost not gouerne thy selfe according to order & reason. They paint thee blind, poore, and young; they put a Bowe into thy hand, wherein thou drawest, and shootest at random; but more blind are they that serue thee. For they neuer taste or see the vnsauory & distastful recompence, which they receiue by thy seruice; thy fire is of hot burning lightning, which scorches vnto death, yet leaues no impression or print of any wound at all. The sticks which thy flames consume, are the soules and liues of humane creatures, which are so infinit, and so numberlesse, that it scarce accurreth vnto me, with whom I should first begin, not only of Christians, but of Gentiles & of Iewes; and all fo •• ooth in requitall of their good seruices. What shall I speak of that Macias of our times; and how by louing, he came to his end? Of whose sad and wofu • l death, thou wast the sole cause. What seruice did Paris do thee? What Helena? What Clytemnestra? What Aegisthus? All the world knowes how it went with them. How well likewise didst thou requite Sapho, Ariadne, and Leander, and many other besides, whom I willingly silence, because I haue enough to do in the repetition of mine own misery? I complaine me of the world, because I was bred vp in it; for had not the world giuen me life, I had not therein begot Melibea; not being begot, shee had not beene borne; not being borne, I had not lou'd her; and not louing her, I should not haue mourned, as now I do, in this my latter and vncomfortable old age! O my good companion! O my bruised daughter, bruised euen all to pieces! Why wouldst thou not suffer me to diuert thy death? why wouldst thou not take pitty of thy kinde and louing mother? why didst thou shew thy selfe so cruell against thy aged father? why hast thou left me thus in sorrow? why hast thou left me comfortlesse, and all alone, in hâc lachrimarum valle, in this vaile of teares, and shadow of death?