LANGUEBEAU SNUFFE, a Puritan, Chaplain to BELFOREST. BORACHIO, D'AMVILLE'S instrument. FRESCO, Servant to CATAPLASMA. Serjeant in war. Soldiers, Servants, Watchmen, Judges, Officers. LEVIDULCIA, Wife of BELFOREST. CASTABELLA, Daughter of BELFOREST. CATAPLASMA, a Maker of Periwigs and Attires. SOQUETTE, a seeming Gentlewoman to CATAPLASMA. SCENE--FRANCE. _THE ATHEIST'S TRAGEDY._ ACT THE FIRST. SCENE I._--In the Grounds of_ D'AMVILLE'S _Mansion._ _Enter_ D'AMVILLE, BORACHIO, _and_ Attendants. _D'Am._ I saw my nephew Charlemont but now Part from his father. Tell him I desire To speak with him. [_Exit_ Servant. Borachio, thou art read In nature and her large philosophy. Observ'st thou not the very self-same course Of revolution, both in man and beast? _Bor._ The same, for birth, growth, state, decay and death; Only a man's beholding to his nature For the better composition o' the two. _D'Am._ But where that favour of his nature is Not full and free, you see a man becomes A fool, as little-knowing as a beast. _Bor._ That shows there's nothing in a man above His nature; if there were, considering 'tis His being's excellency, 'twould not yield To nature's weakness. _D'Am._ Then, if Death casts up Our total sum of joy and happiness, Let me have all my senses feasted in The abundant fulness of delight at once, And, with a sweet insensible increase Of pleasing surfeit, melt into my dust. _Bor._ That revolution is too short, methinks. If this life comprehends our happiness, How foolish to desire to die so soon! And if our time runs home unto the length Of nature, how improvident it were To spend our substance on a minute's pleasure, And after, live an age in misery! _D'Am._ So thou conclud'st that pleasure only flows Upon the stream of riches? _Bor._ Wealth is lord Of all felicity. _D'Am._ 'Tis, oracle. For what's a man that's honest without wealth? _Bor._ Both miserable and contemptible.