The Elder Brother. Beaumont Francis

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СКАЧАТЬ They are the sneaking'st things, and the contemptiblest; such Small-beer brains, but ask 'em any thing out of the Element of their understanding, and they stand gaping like a roasted Pig: do they know what a Court is, or a Council, or how the affairs of Christendom are manag'd? Do they know any thing but a tired Hackney? and they cry absurd as the Horse understood 'em. They have made a fair Youth of your Elder Brother, a pretty piece of flesh!

      Eust. I thank 'em for't, long may he study to give me his Estate. Saw you my Mistris?

      Egre. Yes, she's a sweet young Woman; but be sure you keep her from Learning.

      Eust. Songs she may have, and read a little unbak'd Poetry, such as the Dablers of our time contrive, that has no weight nor wheel to move the mind, nor indeed nothing but an empty sound; she shall have cloaths, but not made by Geometry; Horses and Coach, but of no immortal Race: I will not have a Scholar in my house above a gentle Reader; they corrupt the foolish Women with their subtle Problems; I'le have my house call'd ignorance, to fright prating Philosophers from Entertainment.

      Cow. It will do well, love those that love good fashions, good cloaths, and rich; they invite men to admire 'em, that speak the lisp of Court. Oh 'tis great Learning! to Ride well, Dance well, Sing well, or Whistle Courtly, they're rare endowments; that they have seen far Countreys, and can speak strange things, though they speak no truths, for then they make things common. When are you marri'd?

      Eust. To morrow, I think; we must have a Masque, Boys, and of our own making.

      Egre. 'Tis not half an hours work, a Cupid, and a Fiddle, and the thing's done: but let's be handsome, shall's be Gods or Nymphs?

      Eust. What, Nymphs with Beards?

      Cow. That's true, we'll be Knights then; some wandring Knights, that light here on a sudden.

      Eust. Let's go, let's go, I must go visit, Gentlemen, and mark what sweet lips I must kiss to morrow. [Exeunt.

      ACTUS II. SCENA III

      Enter Cook, Andrew, Butler,

      Cook. And how do's my Master?

      And. He's at's Book; peace, Coxcomb, that such an unlearned tongue as thine should ask for him!

      Co. Do's he not study conjuring too?

      And. Have you lost any Plate, Butler?

      But. No, but I know I shall to morrow at dinner.

      And. Then to morrow you shall be turn'd out of your place for't; we meddle with no spirit o'th' Buttery, they taste too small for us; keep me a Pie in Folio, I beseech thee, and thou shalt see how learnedly I'le translate him. Shall's have good cheer to morrow?

      Co. Excellent good cheer, Andrew.

      And. The spight on't is, that much about that time, I shall be arguing, or deciding rather, which are the Males or Females of Red Herrings, and whether they be taken in the Red-Sea only; a question found out by Copernicus, the learned Motion-maker.

      Co. I marry, Butler, here are rare things; a man that look'd upon him, would swear he understood no more than we do.

      But. Certain, a learned Andrew.

      And. I've so much on't, and am so loaden with strong understanding, I fear, they'll run me mad. Here's a new Instrument, a Mathematical Glister to purge the Moon with when she is laden with cold phlegmatick humours; and here's another to remove the Stars, when they grow too thick in the Firmament.

      Co. O Heavens! why do I labour out my life in a Beef-pot? and only search the secrets of a Sallad, and know no farther?

      And. They are not reveal'd to all heads; these are far above your Element of Fire, Cook. I could tell you of Archimedes Glass, to fire your Coals with; and of the Philosophers Turf, that ne'er goes out: and, Gilbert Butler, I could ravish thee with two rare inventions.

      But. What are they, Andrew.

      And. The one to blanch your Bread from chippings base, and in a moment, as thou wouldst an Almond; the Sect of the Epicureans invented that: The other for thy Trenchers, that's a strong one, to cleanse you twenty dozen in a minute, and no noise heard, which is the wonder, Gilbert; and this was out of Plato's new Ideas.

      But. Why, what a learned Master do'st thou serve, Andrew?

      And. These are but the scrapings of his understanding, Gilbert; with gods and goddesses, and such strange people he deals, and treats with in so plain a fashion, as thou do'st with thy Boy that draws thy drink, or Ralph there, with his Kitchin-Boys and Scalders.

      Co. But why should he not be familiar, and talk sometimes, as other Christians do, of hearty matters, and come into the Kitchin, and there cut his Breakfast?

      But. And then retire to the Buttery, and there eat it, and drink a lusty Bowl to my young Master, that must be now the Heir, he'll do all these, I and be drunk too; these are mortal things.

      And. My Master studies immortality.

      Co. Now thou talk'st of immortality, how do's thy Wife, Andrew? my old Master did you no small Pleasure when he procur'd her, and stock'd you in a Farm. If he should love her now, as he hath a Colts tooth yet, what says your learning and your strange Instruments to that, my Andrew? Can any of your learned Clerks avoid it? can ye put by his Mathematical Engine?

      And. Yes, or I'le break it: thou awaken'st me, and I'le peep i'th' Moon this month but I'le watch for him. My Master rings, I must go make him a fire, and conjure o'er his Books.

      Co. Adieu, good Andrew, and send thee manly patience with thy learning. [Exeunt.

      ACTUS II. SCENA IV

      Enter Charles.

      Cha. I have forgot to eat and sleep with reading, and all my faculties turn into study; 'tis meat and sleep; what need I outward garments, when I can cloath my self with understanding? The Stars and glorious Planets have no Tailors, yet ever new they are, and shine like Courtiers. The Seasons of the year find no fond Parents, yet some are arm'd in silver Ice that glisters, and some in gawdy Green come in like Masquers. The Silk-worm spins her own suit and lodging, and has no aid nor partner in her labours. Why should we care for any thing but knowledge, or look upon the World but to contemn it?

      Enter Andrew.

      And. Would you have any thing?

      Char. Andrew, I find there is a flie grown o'er the Eye o'th' Bull, which will go near to blind the Constellation.

      And. Put a Gold-ring in's nose, and that will cure him.

      Char. Ariadne's Crown's away too; two main Stars that held it fast are slip[t] out.

      And. Send it presently to Galateo, the Italian Star-wright, he'll set it right again with little labour.

      Char. Thou art a pretty Scholar.

      And. СКАЧАТЬ