The sixth, siesta; next hour closing asks.
The eighth sees bath and oil and exercise;
The ninth brings guest on dining-couch who lies.
The tenth is claimed for Martial's poetry,
When you, my friend, contrive high luxury
To please great C�sar, and fine nectar warms
The mighty hand that knows a wine-cup's charms.
Eve is the time for jest: with step so bold
My muse dare not at morn great Jove behold.
BOREDOM, VERSUS ENJOYMENT
If you and I, dear Martial, might
Enjoy our days in Care's despite,
And could control each leisure hour,
Both free to cull life's real flower,
Then should we never know the halls
Of patrons or law's wearying calls,
Or troublous court or family pride;
But we should chat or read or ride,
Play games or stroll in porch or shade,
Visit the hot baths or "The Maid."
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Such haunts should know us constantly,
Such should engage our energy.
Now neither lives his life, but he
Marks precious days that pass and flee.
These days are lost, but their amount
Is surely set to our account.
Knowledge the clue to life can give;
Then wherefore hesitate to live?
THE HAPPY LIFE
The things that make a life of ease,
Dear Martial, are such things as these:
Wealth furnished not by work but birth,
A grateful farm, a blazing hearth,
No lawsuit, seldom formal dress;
But leisure, stalwart healthiness,
A tactful candour, equal friends,
Glad guests at board which naught pretends,
No drunken nights, but sorrow free,
A bed of joy yet chastity;
Sleep that makes darkness fly apace,
So well content with destined place,
Unenvious so as not to fear
Your final day, nor wish it near.
AT THE SEASIDE
Sweet strand of genial Formi�,
Apollinaris loves to flee
From troublous thought in serious Rome,
And finds thee better than a home.
Here Thetis' face is ruffled by
A gentle wind; the waters lie
Not in dead calm, but o'er the main
A peaceful liveliness doth reign,
Bearing gay yachts before a breeze
Cool as the air that floats with ease
[Pg 304]
From purple fan of damozel
Who would the summer heat dispel.
The angler need not far away
Seek in deep water for his prey�
Your line from bed or sofa throw,
And watch the captured fish below!
How seldom, Rome, dost thou permit
Us by such joys to benefit?
How many days can one long year
Credit with wealth of Formian cheer?
We, round whom city worries swarm,
Envy our lacqueys on a farm.
Luck to you, happy slaves, affords
The joys designed to please your lords!
THE POET'S FINAL RETREAT IN SPAIN
Mayhap, my Juvenal, your feet
Stray down some noisy Roman street,
While after many years of Rome
I have regained my Spanish home.
Bilbilis, rich in steel and gold,
Makes me a rustic as of old.
With easy-going toil at will
Estates of uncouth name I till.
Outrageous lengths of sleep I take,
And oft refuse at nine to wake.
I pay myself nor more nor less
For thirty years of wakefulness!
No fine clothes here�but battered dress,
The first that comes, snatched from a press!
I rise to find a hearth ablaze
With oak the nearest wood purveys.
This is a life of jollity:
So shall I die contentedly.
FOOTNOTES:
Martial (Marcus Valerius Martialis) was born at Bilbilis, in Spain, about 40 a.d. He went to Rome when twenty-four, and by attaching himself to the influential family of his fellow Spaniards, Seneca and Lucan, won his first introduction to Roman society. The earliest of his books which we possess celebrates the games associated with the dedication of the Flavian amphitheatre, the Colosseum, by Titus, in 80 a.d. Most of his other books belong to the reign of Domitian, to whom he cringed with fulsome adulation. After a residence in Rome during thirty-four years, he returned to Spain. He died probably soon after 102 a.d. Martial's importance to literature rests chiefly on two facts. He made a permanent impress upon the epigram by his gift of concise and vigorous utterance, culminating in a characteristically sharp sting; and he left in his verses, even where they are coarsest, an extraordinarily graphic index to the pleasure-loving and often corrupt society of his day. Martial had no deep seriousness of outlook upon life; yet he had better things in him than flippancy. He wearied of his long career of attendance upon patrons who requited him but shabbily; and with considerable taste for rural scenery, he longed for a more open-air existence than was attainable in Rome. Where he best exhibited genuine feeling was in his laments for the dead and his affection for friends. With the exception of the introductory piece from Byron, the verse translations here are by Professor Wight Duff.
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PHILIP MASSINGER[Z]
A New Way to Pay Old Debts
Persons in the Play
Lovell, an English lord Sir Giles Overreach, a cruel extortioner Wellborn, a prodigal, nephew to Sir Giles Allworth, a young gentleman, page to Lord Lovell, stepson to Lady Allworth Marrall, a creature of Sir Giles Overreach Willdo, a parson Lady Allworth, a rich widow Margaret, Sir Giles's daughter
The scene is laid in an English county
Act I
Scene I.�A room in Overreach's house. Enter Overreach and Marrall.
Overreach: This varlet, Wellborn, lives too long to upbraid me With my close cheat put on him. Will not cold Nor hunger kill him?
[Pg 306]
Marrall: I've used all means; and the last night I caused His host, the tapster, to turn him out of doors; And since I've charged all of your friends and tenants To refuse him even a crust of mouldy bread.
Overreach: Persuade him that 'tis better steal than beg: Then, if I prove he have but robbed a hen roost, Not all the world shall save him from the gallows.
Marrall: I'll do my best, sir.
Overreach: I'm now on my main work, with the Lord Lovell; The gallant-minded, popular Lord Lovell. He's come into the country; and my aims Are to invite him to my house.
Marrall: I see. This points at my young mistress.
Overreach: She must part with That humble title, and write honourable� Yes, Marrall, my right honourable daughter, If all I have, or e'er shall get, will do it.
[Exit Overreach. Enter Wellborn.
Marrall: Before, like you, I had outlived my fortunes, A withe had served my turn to hang myself. Is there no purse to be cut? House to be broken? Or market-woman with eggs that you may murder, And so dispatch the business?
Wellborn: Here's variety,
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I must confess; but I'll accept of none Of all your gentle offers, I assure you. Despite the rhetoric that the fiend has taught you, I am as far as thou art from despair. Nay, I have confidence, which is more than hope, To live, and suddenly, better than ever. Come, dine with me, and with a gallant lady.
Marrall: With the lady of the lake or queen of fairies? For I know it must be an enchanted dinner.
Wellborn: With the Lady Allworth, knave.
Marrall: Nay, now there's hope Thy brain is cracked.
Wellborn: Mark thee with what respect I am entertained.
Marrall: With choice, no doubt, of dog-whips!
Wellborn: 'Tis not far off; go with me; trust thine eyes.
Marrall: I will endure thy company.
Wellborn: Come along, then.
[Exeunt.
Scene II.�The country. Marrall assures Overreach that the plot on Wellborn succeeds. The rich Lady Allworth has feasted him and is fallen in love with him; he lives to be a greater prey than ever to Overreach. Angered at the information, Overreach, who has himself attempted in vain to see her, knocks his creature down, mollifying him afterwards with gold.
Act II
Scene I.�A chamber in Lady Allworth's house. Lovell and Allworth discovered. Having heard of the mutual attachment of Margaret and Allworth, Lord Lovell has assured the latter that he will help bring it to a successful issue, and that neither the beauty nor the wealth of Sir Giles's daughter shall tempt him to betray Allworth's confidence. Enter Marrall, and with him Sir Giles, who from what he has seen of their behaviour at a dinner given by him in LORD Lovell's honour believes that Lovell wishes to marry Margaret and that Lady Allworth is enamoured of Wellborn. To further this latter match and to prosecute new designs against Wellborn he has lent him a thousand pounds.
[Pg 308]
Overreach: A good day to my lord.
Lovell: You are an early riser, Sir Giles.
Overreach: And reason, to attend your lordship. Go to my nephew, Marrall. See all his debts discharged, and help his worship To fit on his rich suit.
[Exit Marrall
Lovell: I have writ this morning A few lines to my mistress, your fair daughter.
Overreach: 'Twill fire her, for she's wholly yours already. Sweet Master Allworth, take my ring; 'twill carry To her presence, I dare warrant you; and there plead For my good lord, if you shall find occasion. That done, pray ride to Nottingham; get a licence Still by this token. I'll have it dispatched, And suddenly, my lord, that I may say My honourable, nay, right honourable daughter.
Lovell: Haste your return.
Allworth: I will not fail, my lord.
[Exit.
Overreach: I came not to make offer with my daughter A certain portion; that were poor and trivial: In one word, I pronounce all that is mine, In lands, or leases, ready coin, or goods,
[Pg 309]
With her, my lord, comes to you; nor shall you have One motive to induce you to believe I live too long, since every year I'll add Something unto the heap, which shall be yours too.
Lovell: You are a right kind father.
Overreach: You'll have reason To think me such. How do you like this seat? Would it not serve to entertain your friends?
Lovell: A well-built pile; and she that's mistress of it, Worthy the large revenue.
Overreach: She, the mistress? It may be so for a time; but let my lord Say only he but like it, and would have it, I say ere long 'tis his.
Lovell: Impossible.
Overreach: You do conclude too fast. 'Tis not alone The Lady Allworth's lands; for these, once Wellborn's (As, by her dotage on him, I know they will be), Shall soon be mine. But point out any man's In all the shire, and say they lie convenient And useful for your lordship, and once more I say aloud, they are yours.
Lovell: I dare not own What's by unjust and cruel means extorted: My fame and credit are too dear to me.
Overreach: Your reputation shall stand as fair In all good men's opinions as now. All my ambition is to have my daughter Right honourable; which my lord can make her: And might I live to dance upon my knee A young Lord Lovell, borne by her unto you, I write nil ultra to my proudest hopes. I'll ruin the country to supply your waste: The scourge of prodigals, want, shall never find you.
Lovell: Are you not moved with the imprecations And curses of whole families, made wretched
[Pg 310]
By these practices?
Overreach: Yes, as rocks are, When foamy billows split themselves against Their flinty ribs; or as the moon is moved When wolves, with hunger pined, howl at her brightness. I only think what 'tis to have my daughter Right honourable; and 'tis a powerful charm, Makes me insensible of remorse, or pity, Or the least sting of conscience.
Lovell: I admire The toughness of your nature.
Overreach: 'Tis for you, My lord, and for my daughter I am marble. My haste commands me hence: in one word, therefore, Is it a match, my lord?
Lovell: I hope that is past doubt now.
Overreach: Then rest secure; not the hate of all mankind, Not fear of what can fall on me hereafter, Shall make me study aught but your advancement One storey higher: an earl! if gold can do it.
[Exit.
Lovell: He's gone; I wonder how the earth can bear Such a portent! I, that have lived a soldier, And stood the enemy's violent charge undaunted, Am bathed in a cold sweat.
Scene II.�A chamber in Sir Giles's house. Enter Wellborn and Marrall.
Wellborn: Now, Master Marrall, what's the weighty secret You promised to impart?
Marrall: This only, in a word: I know Sir Giles Will come upon you for security For his thousand pounds; which you must not consent to. As he grows in heat (as I'm sure he will), Be you but rough, and say, he's in your debt
[Pg 311]
Ten times the sum upon sale of your land. The deed in which you passed it over to him Bid him produce: he'll have it to deliver To the Lord Lovell, with many other writings, And present moneys. I'll instruct you farther As I wait on your worship.
Wellborn: I trust thee.
[Exeunt. Enter Margaret as if in anger, followed by Allworth.
Margaret: I'll pay my lord all debts due to his title; And when with terms not taking from his honour He does solicit me, I shall gladly hear him: But in this peremptory, nay, commanding way, To appoint a meeting, and without my knowledge, Shows a confidence that deceives his lordship.
Allworth: I hope better, good lady.
Margaret: Hope, sir, what you please; I have A father, and, without his full consent, I can grant nothing.
[Enter Overreach, having overheard.
Overreach (aside): I like this obedience. But whatever my lord writes must and shall be Accepted and embraced. (Addressing Allworth.) Sweet Master Allworth, You show yourself a true and faithful servant. How! frowning, Meg? Are these looks to receive A messenger from my lord? In name of madness, What could his honour write more to content you?
Margaret: Why, sir, I would be married like your daughter, Not hurried away in the night, I know not whither, Without all ceremony; no friends invited, To honour the solemmnity.
Allworth: My lord desires this privacy, in respect His honourable kinsmen are far off; And he desires there should be no delay.
[Pg 312]
Margaret: Give me but in the church, and I'm content.
Overreach: So my lord have you, what care I who gives you? Lord Lovell would be private, I'll not cross him. Use my ring to my chaplain; he is beneficed At my manor of Gotham, and called Parson Willdo.
Margaret: What warrant is your ring? He may suppose I got that twenty ways without your knowledge. Your presence would do better.
Overreach: Still perverse! Paper and ink there.
Allworth: I can furnish you.
Overreach: I thank you; I can write then.
[Writes on his book.
Allworth: You may, if you please, leave out the name of my lord, In respect he comes disguised, and only write, "Marry her to this gentleman."
Overreach: Well advised.
[Margaret kneels.
'Tis done; away�my blessing, girl? Thou hast it.
[Exeunt Allworth and Margaret.
Overreach: Farewell! Now all's cock sure. Methink I hear already knights and ladies Say, "Sir Giles Overreach, how is it with Your honourable daughter? Has her honour Slept well to-night?" Now for Wellborn And the lands; were he once married to the widow�I have him here. [Exit.
Act III
Scene I.�A chamber in Lady Allworth's house. Enter Lovell and Lady Allworth contracted to one another. He has told her that only a desire to promote the union of her promising young stepson, Allworth, with Margaret Overreach tempted him
[Pg 313]
into a seeming courtship of Sir Giles's daughter. She has told him that her somewhat exaggerated courtesies and attentions to Wellborn were an obligation paid to one who in his prosperous days had ventured all for her dead husband. To them enter Wellborn in a rich habit.
Lady Allworth: You're welcome, sir. Now you look like yourself.
Wellborn: Your creature, madam. I will never hold My life my own, when you please to command it.
Lady Allworth: I'm glad my endeavours prospered. Saw you lately Sir Giles, your uncle?
Wellborn: I heard of him, madam, By his minister, Marrall. He's grown into strange passions About his daughter. This last night he looked for Your lordship at his house; but missing you, And she not yet appearing, his wise head Is much perplexed and troubled.
Overreach (outside): Ha! find her, booby; thou huge lump of nothing. I'll bore thine eyes out else.
Wellborn: May't please your lordship, For some ends of my own, but to withdraw A little out of sight, though not of hearing.
Lovell: You shall direct me.
[Steps aside. Enter Overreach, with distracted looks, driving in Marrall before him.
Overreach: Lady, by your leave, did you see my daughter, lady, And the lord, her husband? Are they in your house? If they are, discover, that I may bid them joy; And, as an entrance to her place of honour, See your ladyship on her left hand, and make curt'sies When she nods on you; which you must receive
[Pg 314]
As a special favour.
Lady Allworth: When I know, Sir Giles, Her state require such ceremony I shall pay it; Meantime, I neither know nor care where she is.
Overreach: Nephew!
Wellborn: Well.
Overreach: No more!
Wellborn: 'Tis all I owe you.
Overreach: I am familiar with the cause that makes you Bear up thus bravely; there's a certain buz Of a stolen marriage�do you hear? Of a stolen marriage; In which, 'tis said, there's somebody hath been cozened. I name no parties.
[Lady Allworth turns away.
Wellborn: Well, sir, and what follows?
Overreach: Marry, this, since you are peremptory. Remember Upon mere hope of your great match I lent you A thousand pounds. Put me in good security, And suddenly, by mortgage or by statute, Of some of your new possessions, or I'll have you Dragged in y