The Works of Francis Beaumont and John Fletcher, vol 2 | Page 5

in the Hive; their Government among themselves, their order in going
forth, and coming loaden home; their obedience to their King, and his
rewards to such as labour, with his punishments only inflicted on the
slothful Drone; I'm ravish'd with it, and there reap my Harvest, and
there receive the gain my Cattle bring me, and there find Wax and
Honey.
Bri. And grow rich in your imagination; heyday, heyday! Georgicks,
Bucolicks, and Bees! art mad?
Char. No, Sir, the knowledge of these guards me from it.
Bri. But can you find among your bundle of Books (and put in all your
Dictionaries that speak all Tongues) what pleasure they enjoy, that do
embrace a well-shap'd wealthy Bride? Answer me that.
Char. 'Tis frequent, Sir, in Story, there I read of all kind of virtuous and
vitious women; the antient Spartan Dames, and Roman Ladies, their

Beauties and Deformities; and when I light upon a Portia or Cornelia,
crown'd with still flourishing leaves of truth and goodness; with such a
feeling I peruse their Fortunes, as if I then had liv'd, and freely tasted
their ravishing sweetness; at the present loving the whole Sex for their
goodness and example. But on the contrary, when I look on a
Clytemnestra, or a Tullia; the first bath'd in her Husband[s] bloud; the
latter, without a touch of piety, driving on her Chariot o'er her Father's
breathless Trunk, horrour invades my faculties; and comparing the
multitudes o'th' guilty, with the few that did die Innocents, I detest and
loath 'em as Ignorance or Atheism.
Bri. You resolve then ne'er to make payment of the debt you owe me.
Char. What debt, good Sir?
Bri. A debt I paid my Father when I begat thee, and made him a
Grandsire, which I expect. from you.
Char. The Children, Sir, which I will leave to all posterity, begot and
brought up by my painful Studies, shall be my living Issue.
Bri. Very well; and I shall have a general Collection of all the quiddits
from Adam to this time, to be my Grandchild.
Char. And such a one, I hope, Sir, as shall not shame the Family.
Bri. Nor will you take care of my Estate?
Char. But in my wishes; for know, Sir, that the wings on which my
Soul is mounted, have long since born her too high, to stoop to any
Prey that soars not upwards. Sordid and dunghill minds, compos'd of
earth, in that gross Element fix all their happiness; but purer Spirits,
purged and refin'd, shake off that clog of humane frailty; give me leave
t'enjoy my self; that place that does contain my Books (the best
Compa[n]ions) is to me a glorious Court, where hourly I converse with
the old Sages and Philosophers, and sometimes for variety, I confer
with Kings and Emperors, and weigh their Counsels, calling their
Victories (if unjustly got) unto a strict accompt, and in my phancy,

deface their ill-plac'd Statues; can I then part with such constant
pleasures, to embrace uncertain vanities? No, be it your care t'augment
your heap of wealth; it shall be mine t'increase in knowledge--Lights
there for my Study-- [Exit.
Bri. Was ever man that had reason thus transported from all sense and
feeling of his proper good? It vexes me, and if I found not comfort in
my young Eustace, I might well conclude my name were at a period!
Lew. He is indeed, Sir, the surer base to build on.
Enter Eustace, Egremont, Cowsy, and Andrew.
Bri. Eustace.
Eust. Sir.
Bri. Your ear in private.
And. I suspect my Master has found harsh welcome, he's gone
supperless into his Study; could I find out the cause, it may be
borrowing of his Books, or so, I shall be satisfied.
Eust. My duty shall, Sir, take any form you please; and in your motion
to have me married, you cut off all dangers the violent heats of youth
might bear me to.
Lew. It is well answer'd.
Eust. Nor shall you, my Lord, for your fair Daughter ever find just
cause to mourn your choice of me; the name of Husband, nor the
authority it carries in it, shall ever teach me to forget to be, as I am now,
her Servant, and your Lordship's; and but that modesty forbids, that I
should sound the Trumpet of my own deserts, I could say, my choice
manners have been such, as render me lov'd and remarkable to the
Princes of the Blood,
Cow. Nay, to the King.

Egre. Nay to the King and Council.
And. These are Court-admirers, and ever echo him that bears the Bag.
Though I be dull-ey'd, I see through this jugling.
Eust. Then for my hopes.
Cow. Nay certainties.
Eust. They stand as fair as any mans. What can