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    Cynthia's Revels, or, The Fountain of Self-Love
    Cynthia's Revels, or, The Fountain of Self-Love
    Cynthia's Revels, or, The Fountain of Self-Love
    Ebook169 pages2 hours

    Cynthia's Revels, or, The Fountain of Self-Love

    By Ben Jonson

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    Benjamin Jonson (1572-1637) was a Renaissance dramatist, poet and actor, known best for his satirical plays and lyric poems. Jonson had a knack for absurdity and hypocrisy, a trait that made him immensely popular in the 17th century Renaissance period. However, his reputation diminished somewhat in the Romantic era, when he began to be unfairly compared to Shakespeare. Although Jonson attained a long and thriving career, the majority of his major works for which he is revered were produced between 1605 and 1620. Just prior to this heyday, in 1601 the playwright produced "Cynthia's Revels, or The Fountain of Self-Love," a sort of stepping stone towards his subsequent masterpieces. The play was part of the so-called Poetomachia, or War of the Theatres, between Jonson and playwrights John Marston and Thomas Dekker. The character Cynthia represented Queen Elizabeth, and the play was marked by violence and controversy in reflection of the queen's final reigning years.
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherDigireads.com Publishing
    Release dateJan 1, 2011
    ISBN9781420916959
    Cynthia's Revels, or, The Fountain of Self-Love
    Author

    Ben Jonson

    Benjamin Jonson (c. 11 June 1572 – c. 16 August 1637 was an English playwright and poet. Jonson's artistry exerted a lasting influence upon English poetry and stage comedy. He popularised the comedy of humours; he is best known for the satirical plays Every Man in His Humour (1598), Volpone, or The Fox (c. 1606), The Alchemist (1610) and Bartholomew Fair (1614) and for his lyric and epigrammatic poetry. He is generally regarded as the second most important English dramatist, after William Shakespeare.

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      Book preview

      Cynthia's Revels, or, The Fountain of Self-Love - Ben Jonson

      CYNTHIA'S REVELS

      OR,

      THE FOUNTAIN OF SELF-LOVE.

      A COMICAL SATIRE.

      BY BEN JONSON

      A Digireads.com Book

      Digireads.com Publishing

      Print ISBN 13: 978-1-4209-4083-1

      Ebook ISBN 13: 978-1-4209-1695-9

      This edition copyright © 2012

      Please visit www.digireads.com

      CONTENTS

      DEDICATION

      DRAMATIS PERSONAE

      CYNTHIA'S REVELS.

      INDUCTION.

      PROLOGUE

      ACT I, Scene i.

      ACT I, Scene ii.

      ACT I, Scene iii.

      ACT I, Scene iv.

      ACT I, Scene v.

      ACT II, Scene i.

      ACT II, Scene ii.

      ACT II, Scene iii.

      ACT II, Scene iv.

      ACT II, Scene v.

      ACT III, Scene i.

      ACT III, Scene ii.

      ACT III, Scene iii.

      ACT III, Scene iv.

      ACT III, Scene v.

      ACT IV, Scene i.

      ACT IV, Scene ii.

      ACT IV, Scene iii.

      ACT IV, Scene iv.

      ACT IV, Scene v.

      ACT V, Scene i.

      ACT V, Scene ii.

      ACT V, Scene iii.

      ACT V, Scene iv.

      ACT V, Scene v.

      ACT V, Scene vi.

      ACT V, Scene vii.

      ACT V, Scene viii.

      ACT V, Scene ix.

      ACT V, Scene x.

      ACT V, Scene xi.

      THE EPILOGUE

      DEDICATION

      With the Allowance of the Master of Revels.

      To the

      Special Fountain of Manners:

      The Court.

      Thou art a bountiful and brave spring, and waterest all the noble plants of this island. In thee the whole kingdom dresseth itself, and is ambitious to use thee as her glass. Beware then thou render men's figures truly, and teach them no less to hate their deformities, than to love their forms: for, to grace, there should come reverence; and no man can call that lovely, which is not also venerable. It is not powdering, perfuming, and every day smelling of the Taylor, that converteth to a beautiful object: but a mind shining through any suit, which needs no false light, either of riches or honours, to help it. Such shalt thou find some here, even in the reign of Cynthia, (a Crites, and an Arete.) Now, under thy Phoebus, it will be thy province to make more: Except thou desirest to have thy source mix with the spring of self-love, and so wilt draw upon thee as welcome a discovery of thy days, as was then made of her nights.

      Thy servant, but not slave,

      BEN JOHNSON.

      DRAMATIS PERSONAE

      Cynthia.

      Mercury.

      Hesperus.

      Crites.

      Amorphus.

      Asotus.

      Hedon.

      Anaides.

      Morphides.

      Prosaites.

      Morus.

      Cupid.

      Echo.

      Arete.

      Phantaste.

      Argurion.

      Philautia.

      Moria.

      Cos.

      Gelaia.

      Phronesis, }

      Thauma, } Mutes.

      Time, }

      The Scene

      Gargaphie.

      CYNTHIA'S REVELS.

      After the second sounding.

      INDUCTION.

      By three of the children.

      1. Pray you away; why fellows? God's so? What do you mean?

      2. Marry that you shall not speak the Prologue, sir.

      3. Why? Do you hope to speak it?

      2. Aye, and I think I have most right to it: I am sure I studied it first.

      3. That's all one, if the author think I can speak it better.

      1. I plead possession of the cloak: gentiles, your suffrages I pray you.

      [Within.] Why children, are you not ashamed? Come in there.

      3. 'Slid, I'll play nothing i' the play, unless I speak it.

      1. Why, will you stand to most voices of the gentlemen? Let that decide it.

      3. Oh no, sir gallant; you presume to have the start of us there, and that makes you offer so prodigally.

      1. No, would I were whipped, if I had any such thought: try it by lots either.

      2. Faith, I dare tempt my fortune in a greater venture than this.

      3. Well said, resolute Jack, I am content too: so we draw first. Make the cuts.

      1. But will you not snatch my cloak, while I am stooping?

      3. No, we scorn treachery.

      2. Which cut shall speak it?

      3. The shortest.

      1. Agreed. Draw. The shortest is come to the shortest. Fortune was not altogether blind in this. Now, sir, I hope I shall go forward without your envy.

      2. A spite of all mischievous luck! I was once plucking at the other.

      3. Stay, Jack: 'Slid, I'll do somewhat now afore I go in, though it be nothing but to revenge myself on the author: since I speak not his Prologue. I'll go tell all the argument of his play aforehand, and so stale his invention to the auditory before it comes forth.

      1. Oh, do not so.

      2. By no means.

      [At the breaches in this speech following, the other two interrupt him still.]

      3. First, the title of his play is 'Cynthia's Revels', as any man (that hath hope to be saved by his book) can witness; the scene, Gargaphie: which I do vehemently suspect for some fustian country; but let that vanish. Here is the court of Cynthia, whither he brings Cupid (travelling on foot) resolved to turn page. By the way, Cupid meets with Mercury, (as that's a thing to be noted, take any of our playbooks without a Cupid, or a Mercury in it, and burn it for an heretic in poetry)—Pray thee let me alone. Mercury, he (in the nature of a conjurer) raises up Echo, who weeps over her love, or daffodil, Narcissus, a little; sings; curses the spring wherein the pretty foolish gentleman melted himself away: and there's an end of her.—Now I am to inform you that Cupid and Mercury do both become pages. Cupid attends on Philautia, or self-love, a court lady: Mercury follows Hedon, the voluptuous, and a courtier; one that ranks himself even with Anaides, or the impudent, a gallant, (and that's my part:) one that keeps laughter, Gelaia, the daughter of folly, (a wench in boys attire) to wait on him—These in the court meet with Amorphus, or the deformed, a traveller that hath drunk of the fountain, and there tells the wonders of the water. They presently dispatch away their pages with bottles to fetch of it, and themselves go to visit the ladies. But I should have told you—(Look, these emmets put me out here) that with this Amorphus, there comes along a citizens heir, Asotus, or the prodigal, who (in imitation of the traveller, who hath the whetstone following him) entertains the begger, to be his attendant.—Now, the nymphs who are mistresses to these gallants, are Philautia, self-love; Phantaste, a light wittiness; Argurion money; and their guardian, mother Moria, or mistress folly.—

      1. Pray thee no more.

      3. There Cupid strikes money in love with the prodigal, makes her dote upon him, give him jewels, bracelets, carcanets, &c., all which he most ingeniously departs withal to be made known to the other ladies and gallants; and in the heat of this, increases his train with the fool to follow him, as well as the beggar.—By this time, your beggar begins to wait close, who is returned with the rest of his fellow bottle-men.—There they all drink, save Argurion, who is fallen into a sudden apoplexy.—

      1. Stop his mouth.

      3. And then, there's a retired scholar there, you would not wish a thing to be better contemned of a society of gallants, than it is: and he applies his service (good gentleman) to the lady Arete, or virtue, a poor nymph of Cynthia's train, that's scarce able to buy herself a gown, you shall see her play in a black robe anon: A creature that (I assure you) is no less scorned than himself. Where am I now? At a stand?

      2. Come, leave at last, yet.

      3. Oh, the night is come, ('twas somewhat dark, me thought) and Cynthia intends to come forth: (that helps it a little yet). All the courtiers must provide for revels; they conclude upon a masque, the device of which, is—(what, will you ravish me?) that each of these vices, being to appear before Cynthia, would seem other than indeed they are: and therefore assume the most neighbouring virtues as their masking habits.—(I'd cry a rape, but that you are children.)

      2. Come, we'll have no more of this anticipation: to give them the inventory of their cates aforehand, were the discipline of a tavern, and not fitting this presence.

      1. Tut, this was but to shew us the happiness of his memory. I thought at first he would have played the ignorant critique with everything, along as he had gone; I expected some such device.

      3. Oh, you shall see me do that, rarely; lend me my cloak.

      1. Soft, sir, you'll speak my prologue in it.

      3. No, would I might never stir then.

      2. Lend it him, lend it him.

      1. Well, you have sworn. [Gives him the cloak.]

      3. I have. Now, sir, suppose I am one of your gentile auditors, that am come in (having paid my money at the door, with much ado) and here I take my place and sit down: I have my three sorts of tobacco in my pocket, my light by me, and thus I begin. (At the breaches he takes his tobacco.) By this light, I wonder that any man is so mad, to come to see these rascally tits play here—They do act like so many wrens or pismires—not the fifth part of a good face amongst them all—and then their music is abominable—able to stretch a man's ears worse than ten—pillories, and their ditties—most lamentable things, like the pitiful fellows that make them—poets. By this vapour, and 'twere not for tobacco—I think—the very stench of 'em would poison me, I should not dare to come in at their gates—a man were better visit fifteen jails,—or a dozen or two of hospitals—than once adventure to come near them. How is't? Well?

      1. Excellent: give me my cloak.

      3. Stay; you shall see me do another now: but a more sober, or better-gathered gallant; that is (as it may be thought) some friend, or well-wisher to the house: and here I enter.

      1. What? Upon the stage, too?

      2. Yes: and I step forth like one of the children, and ask you, 'Would you have a stool, sir?'

      3. A stool, boy?

      2. Aye, sir, if you'll give me six pence I'll fetch you one.

      3. For what I pray thee? What shall I do with it?

      2. O Lord, sir! Will you betray your ignorance so much? Why throne yourself in state on the stage, as other gentlemen use, sir.

      3. Away, wag; what, wouldst thou make an implement of me? 'Slid the boy takes me for a piece of perspective (I hold my life) or some silk curtain, come to hang the stage here! Sir crack, I am none of your fresh pictures, that use to beautify the decayed dead arras, in a public theatre.

      2. 'Tis a sign, sir, you put not that confidence in your good clothes, and your better face, that a gentleman should do, sir. But I

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