Like billets saw'd and ready for the fire, Unworthy to hold fellowship with bright gold, That flow'd about the room, conceal'd itself. There needs no artificial light, the splendor Makes a perpetual day there, night and darkness By that still-burning lamp for ever banish'd. But when, guided by that, my eyes had made Discovery of the caskets, and they open'd, Each sparkling diamond from itself shot forth A pyramid of flames, and in the roof
Fix'd it a glorious star, and made the place Heaven's abstract, or epitome; Rubies, sapphires, And robes of orient pearl, these seen, I could not But look on gold with contempt. And yet I found, What weak credulity could have no faith in, A treasure far exceeding these. Here lay A manor bound fast in a skin of parchment ; The wax continuing hard, the acres melting. Here a sure deed of gift for a market town, If not redeem'd this day; which is not in
The unthrift's power. There being scarce one shire In Wales or England, where my monies are not Lent out at usury, the certain hook
The extravagance of the City Madams aping court fashions repre
Luke, having come into the possession of his brother Sit John Frugal'ı estates. Lady, wife to Sir John Frugal, and two daughters, in homely attire.
Luke, Save you, sister;
I now dare style you so. You were before
Too glorious to be look'd on: now you appear
Like a city matron, and my pretty nieces
As they were born and bred there. Why should you ape
The fashions of court ladies, whose high titles
And pedigrees of long descent give warrant
For their superfluous bravery? 'twas monstrous. Till now you ne'er look'd lovely.
Luke. Fie, no; with judgment, I make good My promise, and now show you like yourselves, In your own natural shapes.
Lady. We acknowledge
We have descrv'd ill from you,* yet despair not, Though we 're at your disposure, you'll maintain us Like your brother's wife and daughters.
Luke. 'Tis my purpose.
Lady. And not make us ridiculous. Luke. Admir'd rather
As fair examples for our proud city dames And their proud brood to imitate. Hear Gently, and in gentle phrase I'll reprehend Your late disguis'd deformity.
An honest country farmer, Goodman Humble,
By his neighbors ne'er call'd master. Did your pride Descend from him? but let that pass. Your fortune, Or rather your husband's industry, advanc'd you To the rank of merchant's wife. He made a knight, And your sweet mistress-ship ladyfy'd, you wore Satin on solemn days, a chain of gold,
A velvet hood, rich borders, and sometimes
A dainty miniver cap, a silver pin
Headed with a pearl worth three-pence; and thus far You were privileg'd, and no man envied it :
It being for the city's honor that
There should be distinction between
The wife of a patrician and a plebeían.
But when the height
And dignity of London's blessings grew
• In his dependent state they had treated him very cruelly. They are now dependent on him.
Contemptible, and the name lady mayoress Became a by-word, and you scorn'd the means By which you were rais'd (my brother's fond indulgence Giving the reins to 't) and no object pleas'd you But the glitt'ring pomp and bravery of the court; What a strange, nay monstrous metamorphosis follow'd! No English workmen then could please your fancy; The French and Tuscan dress, your whole discourse; This bawd to prodigality entertain'd,
To buz into your cars, what shape this countess Appear'd in, the last mask; and how it drew The young lord's eyes upon her: and this usher Succeeded in the eldest 'prentice's place, To walk before you. Then, as I said
(The reverend hood cast off'), your borrow'd hair, Powder'd and curl'd, was by your dresser's art Form'd like a coronet, hang'd with diamonds, And the richest orient pearl: your carkanets, That did adorn your neck, of equal value; Your Hungerland bands, and Spanish Quellio ruffs: Great lords and ladies feasted, to survey Embroider'd petticoats; and sickness feign'd, That your nightrails of forty pounds a-piece Might be seen with envy of the visitants: Rich pantables in ostentation shown, And roses worth a family. You were serv'd In plate;
Stirr'd not a foot without a coach; and going To church, not for devotion, but to show
Your pomp, you were tickled when the beggars cried Heaven save your honor. This idolatry Paid to a painted room. And, when you lay In childbed, at the christening of this minx, I well remember it, as you had been
An absolute princess (since they have no more) Three several chambers hung: the first with arras, And that for waiters; the second, crimson satin, For the meaner sort of guests; the third of scarlet
Of the rich Tyrian dye: a canopy
To cover the brat's cradle; you in state,
Like Pompey's Julia.
Lady. No more, I pray you.
Luke. Of this be sure you shall not. I'll cut off Whatever is exorbitant in you,
Or in your daughters; and reduce you to
Your natural forms and habits: not in revenge
Of your base usage of me; but to fright
Others by your example.
[This bitter satire against the city women for aping the fashions of the court ladies, must have been peculiarly gratifying to the females of the Herbert family and the rest of Massinger's noble patrons and patronesses.
A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS: A COMEDY. BY PHILIP MASSINGER
Overreach (a cruel extortioner) treats about marrying his daughter with Lord Lovell.
LOVELL. OVERREACH.
Over. To my wish we are private. I come not to make offer with my daughter A certain portion; that were poor and trivial: In one word I pronounce all that is mine,
In lands or leases, ready coin or goods,
With her, my lord, comes to you; nor shall you have One motive to induce you to believe
I live too long, since every year I'll add
Something unto the heap, which shall be yours too. Lov. You are a right kind father.
Over. You shall have reason
To think me such. How do you like this seat? It is well-wooded and well-water'd, the acres Fertile and rich: would it not serve for change, To entertain your friends in a summer's progress? What thinks my noble lord?
Lov. 'Tis a wholesome air,
And well built, and she, that is mistress of it,
Worthy the large revenues.
Over. She the mistress?
may be so for a time: but let my lord
Say only that he but like it, and would have it; I say, ere long 'tis his.
Over. You do conclude too fast; not knowing me, Nor the engines that I work by. 'Tis not alone The lady Allworth's lands: but point out any man's In all the shire, and say they lie convenient And useful for your lordship; and once more I say aloud, they are yours.
What's by unjust and cruel means extorted: My fame and credit are more dear to me, Than so to expose 'em to be censur'd by The public voice.
Over. You run, my lord, no hazard: Your reputation shall stand as fair In all good men's opinions as now: Nor can my actions, though condemn'd for ill, Cast any foul aspersion upon yours. For though I do contemn report myself, As a mere sound; I still will be so tender Of what concerns you in all points of honor, That the immaculate whiteness of your fame, Nor your unquestioned integrity,
Shall e'er be sullied with one taint or spot That may take from your innocence and candor. As my ambition is to have my daughter Right honorable; which my lord can make her: And might I live to dance upon my knee A young lord Lovell, born by her unto you, I write nil ultra to my proudest hopes.
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