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DRAMATIS PERSONAE

From Algidius’ household

ALGIDIUS Old man, father of Mirabella
MINULUS His son-in-law
MIRABELLA Daughter of Algidius, in love with Perilupus

From St. Bartholomew’s Hospital

ARCHIATER A physician, lover and guardian of Mirabella
URINULUS The physician’s father
Five cripples
Two whippers

From the brothel

NONARIA A bawd
WINIFREDA Her daughter
MAGNETICUS

From the marketplace

UCALEGON, An old man, father of Perilupus and Cordelia
PERILUPUS Ucalegon’s son, in love with Mirabella
CORDELIA Ucalegon’s daughter, in love with Archiater
BUBONIUS Perilupus’ boorish attendant
THEOTIMUS Father of Pythiolus
PYTHIOLUS His son
IPSWICHUS Pythiolus’ tutor and servant to Theotimus
LYNNA Ipswichus’ whore
MOLOSSUS A very fat beadle
A cook

Scene: London, at St. Bartholomew’s Hospital

PROLOGUE

Worthy spectators, if you are unworthy, then don’t be spectators today, For we are not about to perform a wanton, playful girl of a comedy, but a matronly one, which has no fear of grim Cato, but welcomes his presence. When first your poet put his mind to the stage, he strove to correct manners, not to raise a laugh. He thought it would be sufficient praise and sufficient reward for himself, if some one of you would go home a better man after the curtain has gone down, and more earnestly apply his mind to the virtues. So come hither with an open mind, come, pay attention. We care not how cheerful you be, if you go away good men. (Exit.)

ACT I, SCENE i
MINULUS, BUBONIUS

A great cry within. Fire! Fire! Arson! Arson! (Enter Minulus with a bucket.)

MIN. I’ve never seen a man more soaked with beer or wine than is this Bubonius by tears and gloom. He’s taking the death of his master Perilupus’ so much like one of the family (Bubonius enters weeping, with his bucket up to his chin.) And I feel very sorry about this too. But I am born of a family that suffers from dryness of the eye, I know not how to cry. And here he is! If he were subsisting on mustard he couldn’t be unhappier, ha, ha, he. How it’s raining! Thus the heaven did once, as they say, when the fish got caught in the elm tree.
BUB. Hoo! Alas! My master Perilupus has died by fire.
MIN. How flood follows upon flood!
BUB. Hoo! Alas!
MIN. Just look at him. Hey, Deucalion, make yourself a raft, be quick about it.
BUB. Oh master, master, why did you abandon your Bubonius? Hoo! Alas!
MIN. It’s indisputable, he’s smelling an onion, which elicits this abundance of tears from his eyes.
BUB. Hoo! With my tears I’ll fill up this fireman’s bucket. Hoo!
MIN. Bubonius.
BUB. Ah, Minulus, I’m ruined.
MIN. What does that matter to me, ha, ha, he?
BUB. You still laugh, Mister Dry-eye?
MIN. You still cry, Mister One-eye?
BUB. I shouldn’t cry over my Perilupus? I shouldn’t cry?
MIN. I shouldn’t laugh over your stupidity? I shouldn’t sneer? Ha, ha, he.
BUB. You play the fool in such a serious matter?
MIN. You play the hangdog in such a silly matter?
BUB. You think it a joke or a game to lose a master?
MIN. Keep quiet, babbler. Nobody’s lost whom the gods snatch into their keeping.
BUB. Would that the gods cart you off for the keeping!
MIN. I pray they do so.
BUB. I mean to Hell, not to heaven.
MIN. You have such leisure amidst your tears that you may curse me, gallows-bait?
BUB. Oh my dearest master, hoo, hoo!
MIN. Get away with those tears. For a man of your age to cry thus, like boys over a lost hoop!
BUB. Hoo! Alas!
MIN. Bubonius, just look at me. [Imitates him.] Hoo! Alas! Oh by dearest master! Alas! Good, see how nicely these things befit a man!
BUB. You persist? Whap. (They fight with their buckets.) Alas! You’ve knocked out all my teeth.
MIN. So take care lest you bite.
BUB. Upon my life, if I don’t tell these things to your master! (Exit.
MIN. Get away with you, you man of constant sorrows. If you drown yourself in tears, you’ll save work for the hangman. Now I’m going home to tell my master about Perilupus’ death, which indeed he will hear with pleasure, being the kind of man he is. For a jealous old man always rejoices in another man’s misfortune, never thinking he’s well off unless it goes badly for others. (Exit.)

ACT I, SCENE ii
PERILUPUS alone.

Why are you raging, Vulcan, you unkind ruler of the fire? Wrongly they call you lame and slow, for you are actively, alas, too actively rushing for my ruin. My paternal house learned this last night, which raised up so high that it seemed the darling of the sky, so they seemed locked in a daily mutual embrace and sought to kiss. Now it’s humble enough, and its worthless rival, the earth, holds it in its embrace. This was done by your jealousy, you laughingstock of the gods. Yet, Jove be praised, Father is safe and unhurt by the flames. But he’s wholly plunged in grief, since he lost me in this fire. For this easy and indulgent old man assumes this, scarcely dreaming that, as soon as he went to bed, I slipped out of the house, having promised to help a friend who is miserably in love, just like myself. And now I’m coming back from him, but even unhappier than he is. Nor is father’s sad belief entirely wrong, namely that I am unhappy ash and a shade. For I’m burning within, and silent fire inhabits my veins. This edifice of my heart, these walls, this whole building has perished utterly by your flames, oh Venus. [To the audience.] If any of you desires to learn about Troy crackling with its flames, let him stop here, wrench the door off the human hinge of my heart, and have a look at my heart’s smoking palaces. Here is Priam’s flaming home. Here Cupid, Achilles-like, brandishes his weapon. Here love, hate, fear and suspicion are the Myrmidon tribe, the soldiers of the Dolopians, and you, Mirabella, are the Helen of this catastrophe. Ah, I’m far more miserable than the most miserable man: Vulcan rages outside, but Venus much more within. Here, there, everywhere I die. But though these evils be great and sting me most bitterly, yet I kiss them as if they were kindnesses sent by the immortal gods, because they have so opportunely given me a window through which it will be easy to see whether I was dear to Mirabella, as she has always been to me. For if she’s loving to me, she will hear the news of my death with tears and sighs; but if not (as I have a bad suspicion), then with rejoicing and a smile. But in what disguise shall I hide myself in the meantime? What if — But somebody is coming out, I don’t want him to see me.

ACT I, SCENE iii
MAGNETICUS, PERILUPUS concealed.

MAG. Oh, oh. Help a most unhappy man. Oh, oh, oh, oh. A most suffering man. Oh, oh, oh. Nobody? Nobody, by Hercules.
PERIL. Either two men, or nobody.
MAG. (He speaks to his crutches.) Get away, you Atlas of old age, and Vulcan’s greatest pleasure. For my part, I walk around lame, oppressed by the weight of my schemes and the great mass of my tricks, not by the evil of infirmity.
PERIL. But you deserve to be tortured by an army of diseases.
MAG. I’m called Magneticus, my youth has given me this name since, magnet-like, I am powerful by means of my attractive art. But in force and virtue I far surpass that stone of Hercules. For it attracts to itself naught but iron, a worthless metal, but I make gold, silver, gems, anything that comes to hand, my follower. If anybody among Hell’s citizenry and the populace of the Underworld is more rich in crime and more crammed full of artful dodges than I, never again shall I commit a wrong — which may the gods forbid! One time, I admit, I piously went to church, and poured forth some most holy prayers or other. But at the time I got my hands on the sacred vessels.
PERIL. Good God!
MAG. But see, Magneticus, what and how great a windfall today has given you — of evil. I hoped for the wealth which I wish the gods would grant you gentlemen, which is worthless groats. Would the hangman would put a hempen ring on your neck in return for this feigned kindness and false show of charity.
PERIL. Think again and again, Perilupus. What if I went around in this man’s clothing?
MAG. Day before yesterday I pretended to be blind, but my hands had eyes. For I did a fine job of playing midwife to three purses pregnant with silver. Now, Magneticus, I want you to stand before this door and pretend to be at the point of death. As I hope, women will immediately come out with wine or whiskey, and make my soul drunk so it will be unable to flee my body.
PERIL. It will be so. This strikes me as a sound plan. (Perilupus, while he vaunts of his roguery, steps forth.)
MAG. No need to pretend. For if this man has overheard me, I’m dead for real. What shall I do? Has he been listening? Relying on my bold face, I’ll take the chance.
PERIL. Who’s speaking here? Greetings, young man. Go on happy and prosperous foot.
MAG. Aoh, aoh, aoh.
(Magneticus makes signs with his fingers as if he were deaf and dumb.)
PERIL. Why are you silent? Speak up.
MAG. Aoh, aoh, aoh.
PERIL. Throw this shield away now. For hidden here I drank in all your schemes, your tricks, thefts and sacrileges. I shall instantly go before the judge and disgorge forth all this against you, unless you give me a hearing.
MAG. Aoh, aoh. (Again signs with his fingers.)
PERIL. The self-confidence of the man! Do you want me to bash down the doors to your ears with my fists, or shall I lift you up by pulling them? So — (Pulls Magneticus by the ears.). Are they open enough now?
MAG. Aoh, aoh. (Signs again.)
PERIL. Would that your bold face had been ruined along with your ears! Either speak up or I’ll make you silent for ever.
MAG. Aoh, aoh. (Signs again with his fingers and cries aoh, aoh.)
PERIL. This man is the most impudent of all the men who exist, have existed, or ever will exist. But love forbids me from inflicting on you the punishment I desire. Rather I must appease him. Good sir, may the gods look kindly upon your enterprise. Trust me, it will be to your advantage if you do my bidding. Here’s a gold coin for you, I hope it will be your Asclepius. (Magneticus at this opens himself.)
MAG. By Hercules, this is a most excellent Asclepius, it holds the reins of the diseases, it cures the deaf, and restores mute Fabius.
PERIL. You consult for yourself most excellently. If you give me your assistance, with this balsam I shall heal all the infirmity from which you suffer.
MAG. Hang me if I hunt for another physician.
PERIL. But can you offer me your silence? And can what just opened the gate of your voice, can it also lock it?
MAG. You will learn by experience.
PERIL. Take it.
MAG. Aoh, aoh, aoh.
PERIL. I have enough.
MAG. Though I may strike you as sordid in these rags, inside I’m dressed splendidly enough with loyalty, silence, and virtue.
PERIL. Virtue alone makes men handsome.
MAG. So speak up. I promise you what my assistance can achieve.
PERIL. May I die an ill death if I prove an ingrate. Do you know Ucalegon’s son?
MAG. No better than I know you. I rejoice, Perilupus, that you are among the living. It’s on everybody’s lips that you have departed those aboveground. Rumor is always a liar, but now it is lying athletically.
PERIL. It is not lying. It speaks the truth, if my suspicions are true. For if my Mirabella has transferred her affections to another, I am quite in Hell. But enough of these things. Good sir, there is need for your art, and for your costume.
MAG. Mine?
PERIL. Yours.
MAG. Mine?
PERIL. For yours, I tell you. Don’t delay, lend me your clothes promptly.
MAG. May I hang before I ever persuade my mind to do this. Then you will hand me over to the mill, naked and ready for the whipping. Ha! Now I’m getting the scent.
PERIL. You have too large a nose. In exchange, I’ll dress you in my clothes.
MAG. You swear by Jove?
PERIL. And by Juno. Follow me.
MAG. Lead the way, I’ll follow behind at a distance. It scarcely befits a nobleman to walk the street with a beggar. Why are you standing there, idler? Hurry up, and await my arrival at the Sign of Venus.
PERIL. See to it I don’t have to hunt for you.
MAG. No. (Enter Ucalegon and Cordelia.)
PERIL. It’s Father, I’ll steal away furtively. (Exit Perilupus.)

ACT I, SCENE iv
CORDELIA, UCALEGON, MAGNETICUS

CORD. Where are you leading me, Father mine?
UCAL. To St. Bartholomew’s Hospital, where there’s medicine for your wound.
CORD. Would there were one too for this wound I have in my heart! Oh my dearest brother!
UCAL. Why these tears? Unkind fire stole away my son, and you, daughter mine, are drowned in these waves of tears. Are you to die to, so that I shall be unhappy in all ways?
CORD. Oh, my dearest Perilupus!
UCAL. Behold, another sad wind, another storm of sighs is brewing up, which will make this sea of my eyes more savage and angry. It will scarcely be my pleasure to behold the shipwreck of your life. (Turns aside as from Cordelia, but indeed to weep for his son.)
CORD. Where are you turning away, my Father? (She perceives him to weep.) Ah! You fear a shipwreck, yet swell the waves with your weeping?
UCAL. Forgive me, daughter. For now my long-imprisoned sorrow breaks forth, and overflows my eyes’ banks even against my will.
CORD. Let’s sail to Elysium together along this river.
UCAL. How I would like to! An old man, I have had a foot in Charon’s skiff for a long time.
CORD. And I my soul, alas!
UCAL. Woe is me.
MAG. Heigh ho, hum, um, um, ha, ha, he. Hey, they’re dumbstruck with grief! But I shall approach them with a novel method of birdcatching. Where’s my scar? Ah, good. Have pity on very wretched me — eeh, eeh, eeh — who has lost my home, all my goods, and my very self by means of fire.
UCAL. Who’s speaking here, an echo of our misfortune?
CORD. Here’s Charon for you, waiting for his fare.
MAG. May the gods be propitious for you and yours, and may they protect you from Vulcan’s wrath.
UCAL. Cease praying to the gods, whoever you are. For the even if they very much wanted to, the gods cannot make me more unlucky than I am now, or more unhappy. For they have stolen my son, and together with my son everything.
MAG. So you’re Ucalegon?
UCAL. I scarcely am, since now I’m nobody. But thus I am called the unhappiest of all men.
MAG. By Hercules, I lament your misfortune. Heigh ho. Behold your son!
UCAL. Ah. Would that I could call you mine!
MAG. With my very own eyes I saw him wrapped in flames.
CORD. Woe is me! You saw him?
UCAL. You saw him? Alas!
MAG. First the flames seemed to worship him, then to lift him up on high.
UCAL. Ah! What are you saying? You saw it? Cruel flame, to burn his pyre so quickly! Why did you not turn on me instead, a dry old man, fit fodder for you?
CORD. Perhaps the fire was afraid, Father mine, to approach the snows of your head. But why should it spare me, who would gladly have kissed the flames in my brother’s place?
UCAL. Hey! You saw this, but bore no aid?
MAG. I gave what help I could, not without my loss. Do you see? (He shows his leg painted red, as if it were burnt.). That I might save him, alas, I put my foot in the flames in vain.
UCAL. I thank you, excellent young man. Gladly I shall recompense you for this token of your affection. Follow us into the hospital, I shall have you made whole at my expense.
MAG. (Aside.) l’d prefer to enter Hell. I equally loathe a so-called hospital and a mill.
UCAL. What are you saying?
MAG. I am saying my feet can scarce perform their duty.
UCAL. Come, my daughter, let us carry into this hospital this man who deserves so well of us.
CORD. Most gladly. (They both lay hold to carry him in.)
MAG. (Aside.) What shall I do now? (Aloud..) Oh, oh, oh, let me go. Oh oh, let me go, oh — Oh, my sides! Ooh, ooh, ooh, my sides! Oh, oh, my sides! I hurt all over. Don’t touch me. Oh. You go before, I’ll follow at the turtle’s pace I can manage.
CORD. Let us go, Father mine. Now my wound grows worse.
(Whilst they turn to go into the hospital, Magneticus takes up his crutches and runs away. Ucalegon spies him.)
UCAL. So, you rascal? What’s this monstrosity. Can such malice be innate in anybody that he would mock those whom misfortune has wretchedly oppressed?
CORD. We are given no opportunity for gaining revenge. Let us go, Father mine. (They enter into the hospital.)

ACT I, SCENE v
PYTHIOLUS, IPSWICHUS

PYTH. If I’m not mistaken, there’s Ucalegon, the survivor of his son Perilupus. In comparison with my father Theotimus he’s a pure and unadulterated hard-hearted old codger. Father became tired of this country and flew off to New England. The conscience of this kind of father is worth its weight in gold. And when he went away, since it was an inconvenience to take with him his houses, gardens, fields, and suchlike trash, he entrusted them to my care and custody. And, by Hercules, I took good enough care for them, and splendidly so. For I pawned them all to Algidius, next door here. Look here, so that it will be safer, I wear my house every day. From its gardens grow these elegant roses. (Shakes his roses on his shows.) I’ve properly preserved its fields in my pockets. Hear how they speak like angels! (Shakes his pocket and jingles his money.) Ha, ha, he. What do you say, my Orpheuses? Ha, ha? “Door?” What? Ha? Speak up., Ha? “Doors.” Oh, now I understand, they want to go outdoors. Good. Where are you going? Ha? Ha? Ha? Where? Ha? Ha? “Vern.” Vern? Oh, they are eager to go into a tavern. Right. To do what? Ha? Ha? Ha? Answer me. Ha? Ha? Out loud. “Ink.” Ink? Oh, now I get it: to have a good drink. Oh, let’s do that, I’ll gladly show you the way. (Enter Ipswichus, looking about and making faces.) Oh-oh, here’s my tutor, my Geta, the guardian of my morals. Setting our for New England, Father bequeathed him to me as my keeper, as it were. Ha, he, he. [To the audience.] Do you see his carriage and his gait? How upright and rigid, what a face, what eyes! Just join me in contemplating him, my friends, and tell me if some spasm of piety is not coming over his face. But why am I hesitating to speak to my tutor? Greetings, Ipswichus mine.
IPS. Which of the Brethren is it that greets me?
PYTH. Pythiolus, your pupil.
IPS. Away with that greeting, uttered by impure lips. But what business hast thee at London? Explain it in a word.
PYTH. What business is it of yours? May I not indulge my character?
IPS. Verily thou mayst not, verily thou mayst not. Thou art to live according to my manner, not thine own. I am charged by thy father to admonish thee, correct thee, and earnestly exhort thee. In thy father’s presence thou promised thou would be obedient to my words.
PYTH. I’m not denying it. In my father’s presence. Thus is the way to do it: to live a life full of purity and sincerity, to compose one’s expression thus, and sometimes to cover one’s face with feigned tears. Hey ho. Hey. Um. But since Father has bid adieu to this nation, I must also say farewell to these morals.
IPS. Fie, fie, fie. Thus, thou reprobate? Thus thou heed thy father’s command? Thus thou order thy life? Thus thou put thy mind on baser things? Thus —
PYTH. “Thus, thus, thus.” Thus it pleases me. By Jove, it behooves us heirs to obey our whims, to pour libations of wine to our guardian angel, to learn the art of embracing and the science of drinking.
IPS. If thou dost not return to the university and apply thy mind to thy books, as thy father has commanded thee, by my epistles I’ll arrange for him to learn this foolish manner of life thou leadst. So if thou art wise thou shouldst return.
PYTH. By a thousand Joves and an equal number of Apollos, I recoil from your advice. Me go to the university? What do we aristocrats have to do with universities? I mislike Alma Mater, she reeks of bad cuisine. What would I do in a university? Academicians do not know how to whore, they are ignorant of the formulae of greeting, they have weak heads for wine, and (what we aristocrats regard as first and foremost), they do know how to swear elegant oaths. “By Jove, by each and every one of the gods, by the chariot of Phoebus, the hatred of Phaethon, the heavens’ cradles, by Ariadne’s crown and the flock of the stars” — this is our eloquence, in comparison to which Cicero sounds like a frog and Demosthenes like a crow. Academics, on the other hand, academics know nothing but predications, post-predications, “I prove it thus,” “I disprove it thus,” terminus a quo, terminus ad quem, “divided sense,” “composite sense,” and tota in toto, tota in toto, and it’s all toto, toto, toto, and so forth. “It is true in this respect and in this manner, but not in that respect , thus and thus, but not thus and thus.” What’s this linguistic hash? For two years I lived among them, and every day they assaulted my ears with their definitions, divisions, suppositions, and then with their compossibilities, egoibilities, quiddities, haeccidities, Socratidities, and they abound with these stupidities. Ha, ha, he, this vocabulary has a noble sound!
IPS. “If thou art well, I am well. I too am in good condition. But thy son — ”
PYTH. What are you saying to yourself?
IPS. Verily, I’m composing a letter, which I’ll send to thy father straightway. In it I shall provide a graphic picture of thy morals.
PYTH. Beware lest you do that. For by the noontime, the golden belt of day, if you have it in mind to write my father a letter, I’ll put you in a condition where you’ll make a long letter, ha, ha, he.
IPS. Verily, it should be long, long enough to encompass all thy malfeasances.
PYTH. But dismiss these things, if you have sense, and join me in a trip to the tavern.
IPS. Thou impure rascal! Impure rascal! The tavern is the house of Satan.
PYTH. You should say the Sign, not so? If you wish, Ipswich, there is a Sign of the Devil hard by the church. So let’s get going, my dear Ipswich.
IPS. Really? Hard by the church? Verily, a church worthy of men like thyself. But by the authority vested in me I forbid thee, keep far away from every tavern, even the one hard by. For what business hast thou there?
PYTH. To drink to carouse like a Greek, to sharpen your wits for writing.
IPS. Verily, thou wilst find they’re sharp.
PYTH. But set aside this excessive piety and sanctimonious beloved to nobody. I’ll give you a neat lute-girl, who will receive you with sweet, open-mouthed kisses.
IPS. Fie, fie, fie. Verily I abominate profane kisses. Verily they are the mothers and nursemaids of lust. Oh Pythiolus, Pythiolus, don’t pursue whores so.
PYTH. Oh Ipswichus, Ipswichus, don’t try to persuade me.
IPS. Oh Pythiolus, many vices are within whores, verily, and inconveniences.
PYTH. Oh Ipswichus, there are many good things within whores, verily, and sweetnesses.
IPS. Oh, if thou knew how base it is —
PYTH. Oh, if you knew how pleasant it is —
IPS. — to devote thyself wholly to whores —
PYTH. — to love whores —
IPS. — thou wouldst shun them greatly.
PYTH — you would chase them madly.
IPS. Oh, Pythiolus, Pythiolus —
PYTH. Oh, Ipswichus, Ipswichus —
IPS. First of all, whores ruin young men.
PYTH. No, that’s the last of all.
IPS. In the second place, they mutilate them; in the third, they rob them; in the fourth, they destroy them; in the fifth, they fleece them; and last but not least they undo them altogether.
PYTH. (Kicks him up and down.). In the first place, I’ll thump you; in the second, I’ll give you a thumping; in the third, I’ll beat you; in the fourth, I’ll give you a beating, in the fifth, I’ll beat you up; and last but not least I’ll beat you to a pulp.

ACT I, SCENE vi
ALGIDIUS, MINULUS

Enter Algidius with as many cloaks as he can bear, looking like a monster.

PYTH. By the beauty-mark of Venus, what’s this monster? I think Erymanthus’ Bear has fallen out of the sky. Let’s make our departure, so it won’t bite us. Oh, it’s Algidius. How do you do, you son of winter?
ALG. Oh, oh, oh, as I usually do. I’m greatly shivering.
PYTH. By Asclepius’ ashes, come closer to this man’s zeal, and you’ll get warm enough.
ALG. Are you making fun of me?
PYTH. I’m burning the man, ha, ha, he. Follow me into the tavern.
IPS. Verily, I’ll follow you, I’ll keep on following you. (Exit Pythiolus and Ipswichus.)
ALG. Hey Minulus, Minulus.
MIN. [Aside.] Who wants me? Oh, it’s Master. I’ll turn aside as if I didn’t see him. [Aloud.] Gods damn you, whoever you are who are calling me.
ALG. Come hither, MInulus.
MIN. Would that you’d come hither. You’d go away with a rupture, you rascal.
ALG. Take this. (Strikes him with his staff.) Along with your eyes, did you lose your shoulderblades too?
MIN. Oh Master, were you the man?
ALG. Just now you perceived I wasn’t far off, right?
MIN. More than I would like.
ALG. Henceforth you should keep your eyes in the front of your face.
MIN. Your a wise man outdoors, Master, but a fool at home. Why don’t you keep yours?
ALG. Don’t I keep them in the front of my face, you rascal?
MIN. No, on the back of your head. You have crabs for eyes, for they go backwards.
ALG. Keep your silence. Wake up my gown which is sleeping in my trunk, and let it be at hand.
MIN. Have no doubt, I’ll wake it up.
ALG. For my spirit is nearly perishing with cold.
MIN. Would that “nearly” were far away from here. I’d like that word to break its neck.
ALG. Oh, oh!
MIN. Henceforth who’ll ever reproach the autumn for its chill?
ALG. I don’t know the autumn. For me it’s always December, and a perpetual winter.
MIN. So you want to heed a fool for once? Take a trip to Hell, as soon as you can.
ALG. What business have I with Hell?
MIN. Oh Master, those who live there don’t know the winter, only Dog Days shine there, and the noontime is perpetual. Besides, you’ll never go to bed without having had it warmed up first.
ALG. I’ll send you on before to Hell to prepare my way, unless you humor me. I tell you, I bid you fetch my gown.
MIN. Why, Master?
ALG. You ask me why? Don’t you see me naked?
MIN. Ha, ha, he. Naked? Ha, ha, he. Naked? Ha, ha, he. Birds, cows, sheep are stripped bare to clothe you alone.
ALG. Why tell me about your grandfathers and great-grandfathers? Omit your family tree or I’ll warm you up with whips.
MIN. I have no need, Master. I’m warm enough. You have greater use for them, for you are cold.
ALG. Will you run off?
MIN. Where?
ALG. Home.
MIN. What do you want me to do?
ALG. I tell you I want my gown.
MIN. Where is it?
ALG. In the great trunk.
MIN. Where’s the trunk?
ALG. In the bedroom.
MIN. Where’s the bedroom?
ALG. I’ll show you. (Beats him. The boy exits.) This boy is worthless. But for the sake of his uncle, who entrusted him to me upon his deathbed, I’d throw him out where he deserves. No unhappy adversity occurs that does not bring somebody some advantage. This saying came to my pondering mind today because of this business. As I hear, Ucalegon’s son Perilupus perished in a fire, and this is a thing that troubles his father in grievous ways. But it loads me down with supreme happiness, nor could anything luckier or more beneficial befall me. While Perilupus was among the living, I lived in constant fear lest he would pull the wool over my eyes, he was so desperately in love with my daughter, and she with Perilupus. With him dead now, these cares are extinguished, together with these fears, and now I am granted the power to marry my daughter to the man I wish. So today I’ll speed a marriage between Mirabella and Archiater, whom I very much want as my son-in-law. For physicians are dear to me above all others. For they are the only men (if men they are) who are wholeheartedly wise. Justly indeed I prize them highly. I wonder why the boy tarries so long indoors. (Enter MInulus.).
MIN. [Aside.] I’ll tease the old man. [Aloud.] Master, Master, Master!
ALG. What is it?
MIN. Master, Master, Master!
ALG. Are you sane?
MIN. Master, Master, Master!
ALG. Where do you think you are? (Strikes him.) Are you still shouting, you buffoon?
MIN. You ask me where I am? I don’t know where I am, or who I am, you carry me from place to place so with that stick of yours.
ALG. What great thing do you bring, you villain?
MIN. Master, I forgot why you sent me indoors just now.
ALG. Is that so? I’ll refresh your memory. (Offers to strike him.)
MIN. There’s no need, now it comes to my mind. You sent me to wake up the gown sleeping in the trunk. Certainly, by Pollux, I couldn’t do it, though I made an industrious attempt. I shouted too, and often called out, “Hey gown, gown, wake up, wake up, Master wants you, wake up.” And when I perceived my voice had no power, I made trial of what my feet could do.
ALG You trampled on my gown, you beast?
MIN. Trust me, Master, I trampled it, but I couldn’t dispel its sleep.
ALG. Thus you mock me, you rascal? I’m burning up with wrath.
MIN. Then there’s no need for the gown. How much do you owe me, Master, for driving away your disease for free?
ALG. I’ll pay you. Follow me inside. You hangman, I’ll — (Exit Algidius.)
MIN. Would I were a hangmen, you would have the firstfruits of my office. (Exit Minulus.)

ACT I, SCENE vii
MAGNETICUS, MOLOSSUS a beadle

This Molossus is supposed to be a monstrous fat fellow, yet makes much of himself, always carrying a bottle of strong waters in his bosom.

MAG. My mind is in doubt what I should do with myself now. As I’m making my escape from here, along comes the beadle, a man familiar with my back. I adore his embrace much as I do the triple kisses of Cerberus. And by Hercules, here he is! I have been afraid of this. I do not know where to turn. What if I were to climb a tree and pretend to be a scarecrow? By heavens, these rags fit the part. (Molossus enters.) And behold, the pregnant earth gives birth.
MOL. Huff, puff. I’ve consumed the whole day in search of Magneticus — puff — and myself as well. Puff puff. All the streets I’ve passed through are ebbing and flowing with my sweat, yet I am not now finding him.
MAG. And thus you have squandered your oil and your effort. (Molossus pulls out his strong waters out of his bosom, and drinks.)
MOL. Molossus, don’t torment yourself so with your daily labor. Don’t tear yourself apart with your earnest cares. (Drinks.) Indulge your mind a whole, and take close care of your health I wish I’d saved my urine, for I greatly fear a consumption of my whole body. [To the audience.] You see? In comparison to what I was, I’m a slender reed, nothing but skin and bones. (Drinks again.) You, Magneticus, cast me into this dread disease, and if I -— With his back he’ll pay me forfeits. Now I’ll approach the physician to consult about my health. (As he is going into the hospital, he looks upon the tree.) May I die a wretched death if at first sight I didn’t think that was Magneticus. But it’s the image of a man, that serves to drive away the birds which are wont to dine in this garden. But I shall go where I have planned. (Goes into the hospital.)
MAG. Has he sufficiently disappeared? I’ve done this deed with good birds of omen. You beautiful crows! You “rare birds, most like the black swan,” I’ll repay you lavishly for your kindness to me. For when you see me hanging in chains (which I know is not far off), for breakfast I’ll serve you these eyes, this nose, and this most handsome face. Meanwhile farewell, you darling birds. (Molossus reenters.).
MOL. Nothing dwells with in but peace and quiet. Puff.
MAG. Now I’ll hurry to cure Perilupus, who’s sick of waiting for me.
MOL. Wait a minute. (Falls upon Magneticus and beats him.)
MAG. I’m dead, I’m very dead. I’d prefer to bear the burden of Atlas than this man’s hand.
MOL. You deceive me thus? A terror for crows and birds?
MAG. Oh, oh, oh.
MOL. I’ll make you rejoin those crows of yours, even against your will. And with my beating I’ll deform you so much that for the future you’ll be a terror to men. You villain, to you remember the insults with which you wounded me day before yesterday? You called me a huge dunghill, the Heidelberg Tun, a hangman, “a half-bull of a human, a half-human of a bull.” Today I’ll handle you so you are called half a man.
MAG. Forgive me, my most handsome, fair and tender Molossus, I pray you by your eyes, those great lights of the world, by the graceful majesty of your nostrils.
MOL. Ow, ow, now you sing your palinode. Good, you are acting as befits you.
MAG. By your capacious nose (To the spectators), an emblem of the Underworld, by your lips (To the spectators.), those couches of nature — by your hand (To the spectators), not unlike your foot —
MOL. What are you saying, you —
MAG. Oh, by your feet, I say, which I yearn to kiss.
MOL. Oh, excellent indeed, excellent. Lie down flat, flat I say, and give my little shoes a licking.
MAG. I’d lick plates no more cheerfully. (while Molossus holds up his leg, Magneticus takes it in his hand as if to kiss it, and trips up the other with his crutch.) Ha, ha, he. Thus Jupiter knocked lofty Pelion off of Ossa. I believe he has thrown the earth into a permanent paralysis.
MOL. Oh, oh, oh. I’m shattered into pieces. Oh, oh.
MAG. Want me to lick your little shoes?
MOL. I beg you, my fellow countrymen, bear aid to an unhappy, murdered man.
MAG. (Sets his foot upon him.). I shall quickly employ vinegar to make a road through this mountain of guts. if I put this into effect, more glory will be due me than to the man who parted the snowy Alps.
MOL. You’re thinking of making me passable? Look out for yourself, you butcher. If you kill me, I’ll bet a hundred pounds to a penny that with these eyes I’ll see you hanged.
MAG. Get up, beast, move yourself. Ha, ha, he. Move quickly. Ha, ha, he. It’ll be an easier job to put Mt. Taurus, overthrown by the lightning of Jove, back in its proper place than to put this undigested mass back on its feet. (Kicks him, and goes out.).
MOL. Has he disappeared sufficiently? Where’s my health and my life? (Takes his bottle out of his bosom.). When evils of this type oppress me, you always console me. My darling. let me kiss you, my honey. Another smooch, my delight. Come, let’s have Let hug, my sweetness. (Drinks.) Let us touch lips again, my Lydia. (Drinks.) Isn’t she loveable? Isn’t she to be carried in my bosom? If it could be, I’d rather marry you than Thais herself. (He puts it in his bosom, and goes out.)

Go to Act II