A Select Collection of Old English Plays, Volume 09
General
A Select Collection of Old English Plays, Volume 09
English drama
COM. SEN. Why, good father, why are you so late now-a-days?
MEM. Thus 'tis; the most customers I remember myself to have, are, as
your lordship knows, scholars; and now-a-days the most of them are
become critics, bringing me home such paltry things to lay up for them,
that I can hardly find them again.
PHA. Jupiter, Jupiter, I had thought these flies had bit none but
myself: do critics tickle you, i'faith?
MEM. Very familiarly: for they must know of me, forsooth, how every idle
word is written in all the musty moth-eaten manuscripts, kept in all the
old libraries in every city betwixt England and Peru.
COM. SEN. Indeed, I have noted these times to affect antiquities more
than is requisite.
MEM. I remember, in the age of Assaracus and Ninus, and about the wars
of Thebes and the siege of Troy, there were few things committed to my
charge, but those that were well worthy the preserving; but now every
trifle must be wrapped up in the volume of eternity. A rich pudding-wife
or a cobbler cannot die but I must immortalise his name with an epitaph;
a dog cannot piss in a nobleman's shoe, but it must be sprinkled into
the chronicles; so that I never could remember my treasure more full,
and never emptier of honourable and true heroical actions.
PHA. By your leave, Memory, you are not alone troubled; chronologers
many of them are so fantastic, as when they bring a captain to the
combat, lifting up his revengeful arm to dispart the head of his enemy,
they'll hold up his arms so long, till they have bestowed three or four
pages in describing the gold hilts of his threatening falchion: so that
in my fancy the reader may well wonder his adversary stabs him not,
before he strikes. Moreover, they are become most palpable flatterers,
always begging at my gates for invention.
COM. SEN. This is a great fault in a chronologer to turn parasite: an
absolute historian should be in fear of none;[227] neither should he
write anything more than truth for friendship, or less for hate; but
keep himself equal and constant in all his discourses. But, for us, we
must be contented; for, as our honours increase, so must the burthen of
the cares of our offices urge us to wax heavy.
PHA. But not till our backs break; 'slud, there was never any so haunted
as I am: this day there comes a sophister to my house, knocks at my
door; his errand being asked, forsooth his answer was to borrow a fair
suit of conceits out of my wardrobe, to apparel a show he had in hand:
and what think you is the plot?
COM. SEN. Nay, I know not, for I am little acquainted with such toys.
PHA. Meanwhile, he's somewhat acquainted with you, for he's bold to
bring your person upon the stage.
COM. SEN. What, me? I can't remember that I was ever brought upon the
stage before.
PHA. Yes, you, and you, and myself with all my fantastical tricks and
humours: but I trow I have fitted him with fooleries: I trust he'll
never trouble me again.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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