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A20076
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The pleasant comedie of old Fortunatus As it was plaied before the Queenes Maiestie this Christmas, by the Right Honourable the Earle of Nottingham, Lord high Admirall of England his seruants.; Old Fortunatus
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Dekker, Thomas, ca. 1572-1632.
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1600
(1600)
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STC 6517; ESTC S105256
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51,702
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90
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THE Pleasant Comedie of Old Fortunatus As it was plaied before the Queenes Maiestie this Christmas by the Right Honourable the Earle of Nottingham Lord high Admirall of England his Seruants LONDON Printed by S. S. for William Aspley dwelling in Paules Church-yard at the signe of the Tygers head 1600 The Prologue at Court Enter two old men 1 ARe you then trauelling to the temple of Eliza 2 Euen to her temple are my feeble limmes trauelling Some cal her Pandora some Gloriana some Cynthia some Delphaebe some Astraea all by seuerall names to expresse seuerall loues Yet all those names make but one celestiall body as all those loues meete to create but one soule 1 I am one of her owne countrie and we adore her by the name of Eliza 2 Blessed name happie countrie Your Eliza makes your land Elizium but what doe you offer 1 That which all true Subiects should when I was young an Armed hand now I am crooked an vpright heart But what offer you 2 That which all straungers doe two eyes strucke blinde with admiration Two lips proud to sound her glorie Two hands held vp full of prayers and praises What not that may expresse loue what not that may make her beloued 1 How long i st since you last beheld her 2 A iust yeere yet that yeere hath seemd to me but one day because her glorie hath beene my howrely contemplation and yet that yeere hath seemd to me more then twice seuen yeres because so long I haue beene absent from her Come therefore good father le ts goe faster least we come too late for see the Tapers of the night are already lighted and stand brightly burning in their starrie Candlestickes See howe gloriouslly the Moone shines vpon vs Both kneele 1 Peace foole tremble and kneele The Moone saist thou Our eyes are dazled by Elizaes beames See if at least thou dare see where shee sits This is the great Panthaeon of our Goddesse And all those faces which thine eyes thought starres Are Nymphes attending on her deitie Prithee begin for I want power to speake 2 No no speake thou I want words to begin Weepes 1 Alacke what shall I doe com'st thou with me And weepst now thou beholdst this Maiestie 2 Great land-lady of hearts pardon me 1 Blame not mine eyes good father in these teares 2 My pure loue shines as thine doth in thy feares I weepe for ioy to see so many heads Of prudent Ladies clothed in the liuerie Of siluer-handed age for seruing you Whilst in your eyes youthes glory doth renue I weepe for ioy to see the Sunne looke old To see the Moone mad at her often change To see the Starres onely by night to shine Whilst you are still bright still one still diuine I weepe for ioy to see the world decay Yet see Eliza flourishing like May O pardon me your Pilgrim I haue measurd Many a mile to find you and haue brought Old Fortunatus and his family With other Cipnots my poore countrie men To pay a whole yeeres tribute O vouchsafe Dread Queene of Fayries with your gracious eyes T' accept theirs and our humble sacrifice 1 Now I le beg for thee too and yet I need not Her sacred hand hath euermore beene knowne As soone held out to straungers as her owne 2 Thou doest incourage me I le fetch them in They haue no princely gifts we are all poore Our offrings are true hearts who can wish more Exeunt OF Loues sweete war our timerous Muse doth sing And to the bosome of each gentle deare Offence her Artles tunes borne on the wing Of sacred Poesy A benumming feare That your nice soules cloyd with dilicious sounds Will loath her lowly notes makes her pull in Her fainting pineons and her spirit confounds Before the weake voice of her song begin Yet since within the circle of each eye Being like so many Suns in his round Sphere No wrinckle yet is seene shee le dare to flie Borne vp with hopes that as you oft do reare With your faire hands those who would els sinke down So some will deigne to smile where all might frown And for this smal Circumference must stand For the imagind Sur-face of much land Of many kingdomes and since many a mile Should here be measurd out our muse intreats Your thoughts to helpe poore Art and to allow That I may serue as Chorus to her scences She begs your pardon for shee le send me foorth Not when the lawes of Poesy doe call But as the storie needes your gracious eye Giues life to Fortunatus historie Exit THE COMEDIE OF Olde Fortunatus Enter Fortunatus meanely attired hee walkes ere he speake once or twice about cracking Nuts Fortunatus SD ho ho ho ho Eccho within Ho ho ho ho Fortun. There boy Eccho There boy Fort. And thou bee'st a goodfellow tel me how thou cal'st this wood Eccho This wood Fort. I this wood which is my best way out Eccho Best way out Fort. Ha ha ha that 's true my best way out is my best way out but how that out will come in by this Maggot I know not I see by this we are all wormes meate well I am very poore and verie patient Patience is a vertue would I were not vertuous that 's to say not poore but full of vice that 's to say ful of chinckes Ha ha so I am for I am so full of chinckes that a Horse with one eye may looke through and through me I haue sighed long and that makes me windie I haue fasted long and that makes me chast marie I haue praied little and that makes mee I still daunce in this coniuring circle I haue wandred long and that makes me wearie but for my wearinesse anon I le lie downe in steade of fasting I le féede vpon Nuts and in stead of sighing will laugh and bee leane Sirra Eccho Eccho Sirra Eccho Fortu. Here 's a Nut Eccho Here 's a Nut Fort. Cracke it Eccho Cracke it Fort. Hang thy selfe Eccho Hang thy selfe Fort. Th' art a knaue a knaue Eccho A knaue a knaue Fort. Ha ha ha ha Eccho Ha ha ha ha Fortunat. Why so two fooles laugh at one another I at my little tattle gammer eccho and shee at me Shortly there will créepe out in print some filthie booke of the olde hoarie wandring Knight meaning me would I were that booke for then I should be sure to créepe out from hence I should bee a good souldiour for I trauerse my ground rarely marrie I sée neither enemie nor friends but Popiniayes and Squirrels and Apes and Owles and Dawes and Wagtailes and the spite is that none of these grasse-eaters can speake my language but this foole that mockes me and sweares to haue the last word in spite of my téeth I and shee shall haue it because shee is a woman which kind of cattell are indéede all Eccho nothing but tongue and are like the great bell of S. Michaels in Cyprus that kéepes most rumbling when men