Selected quad for the lemma: book_n
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A52863
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The poor scholar a comedy / vvritten by Robert Nevile ...
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Neville, Robert, 1640 or 1-1694.
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1662
(1662)
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Wing N524; ESTC R14670
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37,651
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58
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furious blood And your eyes sparkle as if they were The onely seat of fire and at each glance Would start a Salamander by their Excessive heat you would not like Narcissus Be in the least transported with the love Of your own person but rather like Actaeon Stand amazed when you perceive your self Transform'd into a beast by Passion You would I'm sure abhorre and hate your Self worse then you do or can your Nephew pray then by patient Eug. Sen. I 'le make patience as great a stranger To my breast a a a as He stammers and can go no further Eug. Jun. aside To your breast a a a as goodness For I never discover'd any in it yet Eug. Sen. O now I have recover'd my lost senses I mean I le make patience as great a stranger To my breast as I resolve to make my Nephew to my love Eug. Jun. aside A Pox choak you ha' you hit it at last Demosth O groundless and inveterate Hatred Eug. Sen. Groundless Groundless are these the praecepts Of morality you instill into him to teach him How to be rebellious I 'm sorry I so much Disparag'd my own judgement as to commit him To your care and charge could you by Th' clue of truth dive into all his winding Labyrinths of impiety you 'd think him a worse Monster then the inhumane Minotaur And hire another Theseus to destroy him You 'd wish your self all arm and weapon To cut him off Ha you rogue Eugenes Junior discover'd peeping What a secret auditor of our Discourse an Evesdropper you see my Short-hand Can sufficiently write your Character You 've heard your own Eugenes Junior enters Eug. Jun. Reverend and worthy Sir turning to Demosthenes his tutour It may perhaps seem strange to you that Having a relation so near I wish I could say Dear unto me as an unckle present I should Address my self first unto you But Sir hee 's so deform'd and strangely alter'd By his brutish passion that I forget he is my Unckle he makes me of Pythagoras'es Sect And firmly to beleeve the souls of Brutes Do by a transmigration animate and inform Our human bodies as oft as I reflect upon His fierce and savage nature Demosthenes But I should have entertain'd better thoughts Of you my Eugenes had you first attempted To pacify your unckle it may be though you now Stinck in his thoughts worse then your excrement Would do in 's nose and your memorial be to him As odious as swines flesh to a Jew yet by Your flowers of Rhetorick you might have Seemed sweet again and pleasant Eug. Jun. I had as good go court the air or plow the sand Sweet smells will make his head ake And flowers of Rhetoricke would to him be As offensive as perfumes are to those who are Affected with fits of the Mother Eug. Sen. Sirrah for this your malepert and sawcy Language I 'le make you troubl'd with fits Of the father I 'le lay your close and secret Vices as open to him as is the Sun in 's high Meridian at Noonday Demosth Young Eugenes I plainly see that you 're become So odious to your Unckle that if you do but speak Or breath in 's presence you 'l kindle and enflame His hottest fury wherefore avoid the room Eug. Jun. I willingly submit to your commands Exit Eug. Sen. Could one blast of your mouth blow him away I might have spent my lungs and sworn at him These two hours to be gone and all in vain And at one small entreaty from your lips He vanishes and flies like lightning Demosth My charity prompts me Sir to think that He so far resembles heaven as rather to be Conquered by prayers then full-mouth'd oaths You must use soft and downy words if you Would break his flinty heart I know him well Eug. Sen. I wish hee 'd know himself so well or if he wont That I had never known him Demost Well I 'le go and sift him thoroughly I 'le refine him I warrant you and new mold him Exeunt both severally Eug. Sen. Pray use your best endeavors and adieu ACT. 1. SCENE 3. Morphe Anaiskuntia Eugenes Junior Morphe I Wonder Anaiskuntia that Eugenes has been So great a stranger to us Anaisk Madam you must think that Scholars are as Fickle and unconstant in reading Ladies faces As their bookes they scarce have half perused one But they make scrutiny and enquiry after others They seldom write one style one language long They court Variety the mother of Delight As travellers that resolve to put a girdle about The world after they 've view'd one fair And amiable place pass to another So Scholars after they 've cast a slight and transparent glance on some transcendent face And orient Beauty pass on unto another They would have as many Ladies to exercise Their Courtship on as there are moneths nay Weekes i' th' Almanack and if a Lady would Give them content and satisfaction she must be forc'd To change her face as often as the Moon does hers They are delighted with the newest bookes And chiefly when they are in Sheetes And till they first write in them they 'le never Binde 'um to themselves in Matrimony that excellent Cover For Lusts deep characters and impressions Mor. Fie upon you does this discourse Become one of your Sex Anaisk Of my Sex Madam that 's a frivolous question I know all Scholars humours as well as the Best Laundress of 'um all I know 'um as well As woman can know a man Mor. How Impudence you 'le confess your self A common prostitute presently why wa'nt To purge the Students reins Anaisk Nay Madam hold me excused there Your Commentaries on my words transgress the bounds of Charity for where I say I know 'um I mean this onely That they 'le take cognizance and notice of me Salute embrace me when I meet ' um Mor. You 're in your old Bawdy tune again Anaisk You are too waggish Madam and by too foul Interpretations of my words stain my unspotted innocence When I vaunt they 'le embrace me My meaning 's this they 'le kiss and a-la-mode Take me by th' hand and if a sorry kiss be Thought sufficient to christen women whores They 'd curse their Destinies and as I've Heard some Scholars curse Augustius for Publishing an Edict against kissiâ—g So should I those who dare denominate all As common strumpets who 'le kiss as closs as Cockles you justly therefore may be tax'd With indiscretion for catching at my words For words they are but wind and those that Think to grasp the wind you know the Proverb nominates indiscreet Mor. I 'me sure the Sages of the world thought otherwise When they prescrib'd us this experienc'd Axiom A Bird is known by th' tune a Beagle by His mouth Man by his words A stinking breath is not a surer symptom Of putred lungs then an obscene tongue of an Impure heart 't were better that clock thy tongue Would never strike except it were
THE Poor Scholar A COMEDY VVritten by Robert Nevile Fellow of Kings Colledge in CAMBRIDGE Spectatum admissi risum teneatis amici Hor. de Art Poet. LONDON Printed by Tho. Johnson for Francis Kirkman and Henry Marsh and are to be sold at their shop at the Princes Arms in Chancery-lane 1662. To his ingenuous Friend upon his Play call'd The Poor Scholar THe Boy of Macedon thâ—t wept out-right Erough to drown t is fâ—mous Sâ—agâ—yrite Because like Thetis warlike issue he No Homer had to write his Histâ—râ—e Mistook his aim for had his wish obtain'd With th' easie Goas his actions had been stain'd His Life had been Romance and he been made Some errant Knight of the Enchanted Blade Poets Substract whilst they would Multiply There 's nor dispraise like an Hyperbole This thus premised I may prove at last Because no Poet The Encomiast Others may over-praise thy Book for we The best things often over-rated see My careless Phrase and words that lie neglected This virtue have that they 'le not be suspected So what I write will aequi distant lye From polisht Wit and servile Flattery Bees from a bruisedox say's Maro breed But thou draw'st hony from a tatter'd Weed Seeing thy wit 's so pure thy Phrase so clean Thy sense so weighty that each Line 's a Scene Wee 'l change the Song and cry as truly too Whither may not this thy Poor Scholar go This fault the best nos'd Criticks only smell That thy Poor Scholar is attir'd too well Ben's Auditours were once in such a mood That he was forc't to swear his Play was good Thy Play then his doth far more currant go For without swearing wee 'l beleeve thine so E.M. To my friend Mr. R. N. on his excellent Play The Poor Scholar LEt thy Poor Scholar now no longer wait For thy probation to be Graduate Let him commence Master of 's Art for he Hâ—'s kept his Acts in Wits Academy T. L. To my very good friend upon his excellent Play call'd The Poor Scholar FIll'd with rich fancy golden Eloquence This thy Poor Scholar can have no pretence To plead that he is poor let those complain Rather of poverty whose empty Brain Measures its slow-pac't fancies by the glass And when 't has serv'd 'um out can't make 'um pass For current Wiâ— but are adulterate And such as flow from every Common pate But when the Ventricles of thy pregnant Brain Give birth to such an issue without pain And it in ten days space can wholly vent Nor force thee bite thy fingers excrement Like some dull Animals whose barren seed Like Womens â—iâ—â— moneths space requires to breed Some poor Abortive Birth that dreads the light And fears to be expos'd to publick sight Thy play like a young true born Eagle may Behold the Sun in publick at Noon day W. W. Drammatis Personae EUgenes Senior Unckle to Eugenes Junior and President of the Colledge a very passionate man although a Clergy man Eugenes Junior the Poor Scholar Eugenes junior's Father a Citizen Demosthenes Tutour to Eugenes Junior Pege a yong student Chamber-fellow to Eugenes junior a Woman-hater Philos a friend to Eugenes Senior and one that discover'd his Nephews rambles to him a Fellow of the same Colledge Aphobos a mad Rakel afterwards married to Anaiskuntia Eutrapelus a quibbling fellow of Eugenes junior's acquaintance Morphe a beautiful Lady but of a low fortune to whom Eugenes junior was a servant Anaiskuntia her Maid an impudent scoffing Lass to whom Aphobos was a servant Eugeneia sister to Eugenes junior and courted by Eutrapelus Uperephania her maid a proud wench and a great hater of men Two Schollars Three Fellows of the Colledge The Prologue to be spoken by Eugenes Junior the Poor Scholar WHat have our City Wits beâ—n â—uelt that the y Of late a'n'â—able to beget a Play Or rather troublâ—d with Feares Quaking Fits Is London frighted out of all its Wits By the Phanatick Crews late Insurrection Or have they been molested with th' infection Of the dull City air with which theâ—r brains Perhaps do sympathize and take more paines Now to produce a Play then Randolphs Quill Would have requir'd the Theater to fill Have London wits drank down some deadly potâ—on Are onely Academick Wits in motion Must Genus Species which of you were won't To trudge a foot at last be forc'd to mount The Muses ' Paegasus then I 'le spur on And ride a Scholars pace from Helicon To th' City Theater and humbly beg Your courteous audience with a scrape or leg Though 't be but Scholar-like perform'd and dare My wants i' th' hearing of you all declare I 'le tell you that I hope you are not so Cruel as to let Wit a begging go And that if you 'le grant me your approbation I shall be richer then the Indian Nation THE POOR SCHOLAR ACT. 1. SCENE I. Eugenes Jun. and Pege Eug. J. HOw now Pege dost not think I was possess'd With a Prophetick spirit and spake as infallibly As an Oracle When I told thee That were I never so exact a Chymist I could not extract one graine of gold out of My fathers coffers he graspes his coine as fast As drowning men do those on whom they fix their clutches When they 're the third time sinking Thy aid I prithee what Engine what stratagem Shall I use t'open the floodgates of his Liberality For as I am a Scholar and a poor one My empty pockets no less require a flash From th' golden Tagus of his wealth Then the most heavy-loaded Barge at Lowest water there 's no danger that my pockets Should prodigally overflow their bancks I having not wherewithal I may procure A competency of liquor to fill an Arch Of my least hollow tooth or wet my whistle Pege What will thy aged father neither vouchsafe To shine upon thee with a golden ray Or water thee with a golden showre What neither rain nor sun-shine Then certainly thou canst not but be barren And thy pockets must necessarily be as dry As thy old fathers quite-exhausted bones What does he sordidly engross all his revenues To himself if so he does deserve To have's gray beard puckt for its silver hairs As geese are pluckt by school-boys for their quills Eug. Jun. O Pege there 's thunder in the name of Father He trembl'd less that stole Joves golden Scepter And scrap'd the ivory thigh of Hercules Arm'd with his club then I when I but spend A thought on so unnatural an act as to prophane The silver shrine of those gray hairs Whose very age gives them a title to respect and reverence Pege If you 'le stand forsooth upon nice points Of Religion you may still continue as poor As one o' th Mendicant Friers and like an Anchorite Live and die under a ruin'd and demolisht-wal And for want of coine to pay the Sexton Be forc'd to dig your grave with Natures Mathookes Your long nailes Eugen. J. Ah Pege I 'de rather dye in some