A Select Collection of Old English Plays, Vol. VIII (4th edition) | Page 8

famous thresher, porter, brewer,
pioneer, or carpenter that had straight back. Repair to my chamber,
poor fellow, when the play is done, and thou shalt see what I will say to
thee.
SUM. Vertumnus, call Solstitium.
VER. Solstitium, come into the court: without, peace there below!
make room for Master Solstitium.
Enter SOLSTITIUM, _like an aged hermit, carrying a pair of balances,
with an hour-glass in either of them--one hour-glass white, the other
black: he is brought in by a number of Shepherds, playing upon
recorders_.[38]
SOL. All hail to Summer, my dread sovereign lord.
SUM. Welcome, Solstitium: thou art one of them, To whose good
husbandry we have referr'd Part of those small revenues that we have.
What hast thou gain'd us? what hast thou brought in?
SOL. Alas, my lord! what gave you me to keep But a few day's-eyes[39]
in my prime of youth? And those I have converted to white hairs; I
never lov'd ambitiously to climb, Or thrust my hand too far into the fire.
To be in heaven, sure, is a bless'd thing; But Atlas-like to prop heaven
on one's back, Cannot but be more labour than delight. Such is the state
of men in honour plac'd; They are gold vessels made for servile uses;
High trees that keep the weather from low houses, But cannot shield
the tempest from themselves. I love to dwell betwixt the hills and dales;
Neither to be so great to be envied, Nor yet so poor the world should
pity me. _Inter utrumque tene, medio tutissimus ibis_[40].
SUM. What dost thou with those balances thou bear'st?
SOL. In them I weigh the day and night alike: This white glass is the

hour-glass of the day, This black one the just measure of the night. One
more than other holdeth not a grain; Both serve time's just proportion to
maintain.
SUM. I like thy moderation wondrous well; And this thy
balance-weighing, the white glass And black, with equal poise and
steadfast hand, A pattern is to princes and great men, How to weigh all
estates indifferently; The spiritualty and temporalty alike: Neither to be
too prodigal of smiles, Nor too severe in frowning without cause. If you
be wise, you monarchs of the earth, Have two such glasses still before
your eyes; Think as you have a white glass running on, Good days,
friends, favour, and all things at beck, So this white glass run out (as
out it will) The black comes next; your downfall is at hand. Take this of
me, for somewhat I have tried; A mighty ebb follows a mighty tide. But
say, Solstitium, hadst thou nought besides? Nought but day's-eyes and
fair looks gave I thee?
SOL. Nothing, my lord, nor aught more did I ask.
SUM. But hadst thou always kept thee in my sight, Thy good deserts,
though silent, would have ask'd.
SOL. Deserts, my lord, of ancient servitors Are like old sores, which
may not be ripp'd up. Such use these times have got, that none must beg,
But those that have young limbs to lavish fast.
SUM. I grieve no more regard was had of thee: A little sooner hadst
thou spoke to me, Thou hadst been heard, but now the time is past:
Death waiteth at the door for thee and me. Let us go measure out our
beds in clay; Nought but good deeds hence shall we bear away. Be, as
thou wert, best steward of my hours, And so return into thy country
bow'rs.
[_Here_, SOLSTITIUM _goes out with his music, as he comes in_.
WILL SUM. Fie, fie, of honesty, fie! Solstitium is an ass, perdy, this
play is a gallimaufry. Fetch me some drink, somebody. What cheer,
what cheer, my hearts? Are not you thirsty with listening to this dry

sport? What have we to do with scales and hour-glasses, except we
were bakers or clock-keepers? I cannot tell how other men are addicted,
but it is against my profession to use any scales but such as we play at
with a bowl, or keep any hours but dinner or supper. It is a pedantical
thing to respect times and seasons: if a man be drinking with good
fellows late, he must come home for fear the gates be shut: when I am
in my warm bed, I must rise to prayers, because the bell rings. I like no
such foolish customs. Actors, bring now a black jack and a rundlet of
Rhenish wine, disputing of the antiquity of red noses: let the Prodigal
Child[41] come in in his doublet and hose all greasy, his shirt hanging
forth, and ne'er a penny in his purse, and talk what a fine thing it is to
walk summerly, or sit whistling under a hedge, and keep hogs. Go
forward,