Those gilded wantons which in swarms do run Fortunat. O whither am I wrapt beyond myself? More violent conflicts fight in every thought Than his whose fatal choice Troy's downfall wrought. To himself he lives and to all else seems dead. Than of a threadbare saint in Wisdom's school. Of months and years much misery might enroll: Therefore dread sacred Empress, make me rich: Gold is heaven's physic, life's restorative; Oh therefore make me Rich. Fortune gives to Fortunatus a purse that is inexhaustible. With this he puts on costly attire, and visits all the Asian Courts, where he is caressed and made much of for his infinite wealth. At Babylon he is shown by the Soldan a wondrous hat, which in a wish transports the wearer whithersoever he pleases, over land and sea. Fortunatus puts it on, wishes himself at home in Cyprus; where he arrives in a minute, as his sons Ampedo and Andelocia are talking of him; and tells his Travels. Fort. Touch me not, boys, I am nothing but air, let none speak to me till you have marked nie well.-Am I as you are, or am I transformed? And. Methinks, father, you look as you did, only your face is more withered. Fort. Boys, be proud; your father hath the whole world in this compass. I am all felicity up to the brims. In a minute am I come from Babylon; I have been this half hour in Farmagosta. And. How! in a minute, father? I see travellers must lie. Fort. I have cut through the air like a falcon. I would have it seem strange to you. But 'tis true. I would not have you believe it neither. But 'tis miraculous and true. Desire to see you brought me to Cyprus. I'll leave you more gold, and go to visit more countries. Amp. The frosty hand of age now nips your blood, And strews her snowy flowers upon your head, And gives you warning that within few years Death needs must marry you: those short lines, minutes, In peace, not travel; rest in Cyprus then. Could you survey ten worlds, yet you must die; And. Faith, father, what pleasure have you met by walking your stations? Fort. What pleasure, boy? I have revelled with Kings, danced with Queens, dallied with Ladies; worn strange attires; scen Fantasticos; conversed with Humorists; been ravished with divine raptures of Doric, Lydian and Phrygian harmonies; I have spent the day in triumphs and the night in banquetting. And. O rare: this was heavenly.-He that would not be an Arabian Phoenix to burn in these sweet fires, let him live like an owl for the world to wonder at. Amp. Why, brother, are not all these Vanities? Fort. Vanities! Ampedo, thy soul is made of lead, too dull, too ponderous, to mount up to the incomprehensible glory that Travel lifts men to. And. Sweeten mine ears, good father, with some more. Worshipp'd these clouds as brightest: but, my boys, I scorn'd to crowd among the muddy throng There shall you see faces angelical; There shall you see troops of chaste Goddesses, Whose star-like eyes have power (might they still shine) The standers by being the fair workmanship. Beheld such glory, so majestical, Fort. In some Courts shall you see Ambition All apish, childish, and Italianate. Orleans to his friend Galloway defends the passion with which (being a prisoner in the English king's court) he is enamored to frenzy of the king's daughter Agripyna. ORLEANS. GALLOWAY. Orl. This music makes me but more out of tune. O Agripyna. Gall. Gentlo friend, no more. Thou say'st Love is a madness: hato it then, Even for the name's sake. Orl. I love that madness, Even for the name's sako. Gall. Let me tame this frenzy, By telling thee thou art a prisoner here, Orl. If he do, why so do I. Gall. Love is ambitious and loves Majesty. Orl. Dear friend, thou art deceiv'd: Love's voice doth sing As sweetly in a beggar as a king. Gall. Dear friend, thou art deceiv'd: O bid thy soul Lift up her intellectual eyes to heaven, And in this ample book of wonders read, Of what celestial mould, what sacred essence, Gall. O call this madness in: see, from the windows Orl. Ha, ha, I laugh at them: are they not mad, That in his anger he might smite life down My love was ever and is still forgot; forgot, forgot, forgot. Gall. Draw back this stream: why should my Orleans mourn ? Orl. Look yonder, Galloway, dost thou see that sun? Nay, good friend, stare upon it, mark it well: Ere he be two hours elder, all that glory Is banish'd heaven, and then, for grief, this sky To enforce Care laugh, and Wo not shed a tear! |