would I know.
Aristippus. Honesty.
Carisophus. Doth honesty knit the perfect knot in true friendship?
Aristippus. Yea, truly, and that knot so knit will never slip.
Carisophus. Belike, then, there is no friendship but between honest men.
Aristippus. Between the honest only; for, Amicitia inter bonos,[129] saith a learned man.
Carisophus. Yet evil men use friendship in things unhonest, where fancy doth serve.
Aristippus. That is no friendship, but a lewd liking; it lasts but a while.
Carisophus. What is the perfectest friendship among men that ever grew?
Aristippus. Where men love one another, not for profit, but for virtue.
Carisophus. Are such friends both alike in joy and also in smart?
Aristippus. They must needs; for in two bodies they have but one heart.
Carisophus. Friend Aristippus, deceive me not with sophistry:
Is there no perfect friendship, but where is virtue and honesty?
Aristippus. What a devil then meant Carisophus
To join in friendship with fine Aristippus?
In whom is as much virtue, truth and honesty,
As there are true feathers in the three Cranes of the Vintree:[130]
Yet their[131] feathers have the shadow of lively feathers, the truth to scan,
But Carisophus hath not the shadow of an honest man.
To be plain, because I know thy villainy,
In abusing Dionysius to many men’s injury,
Under the cloak of friendship I play’d with his head,
And sought means how thou with thine own fancy might be led.
My friendship thou soughtest for thine own commodity,
As worldly men do, by profit measuring amity:
Which I perceiving, to the like myself I framed,
Wherein I know of the wise I shall not be blamed:
If you ask me; Quare? I answer, Quia prudentis est multum dissimulare.
To speak more plainer, as the proverb doth go,
In faith, Carisophus, cum Cretense cretizo.
Yet a perfect friend I show myself to thee in one thing,
I do not dissemble, now I say I will not speak for thee to the king:
Therefore sink in thy sorrow, I do not deceive thee,
A false knave I found thee, a false knave I leave thee.
[Exit.
Carisophus. He is gone! is this friendship, to leave his friend in the plain field?
Well, I see now I myself have beguiled,
In matching with that false fox in amity,
Which hath me used to his own commodity:
Which seeing me in distress, unfeignedly goes his ways.
Lo, this is the perfect friendship among men now-a-days;
Which kind of friendship toward him I used secretly;
And he with me the like hath requited me craftily,
It is the gods’ judgment, I see it plainly,
For all the world may know, Incidi in foveam quam feci.
Well, I must content myself, none other help I know,
Until a merrier gale of wind may hap to blow.
[Exit.
Enter Eubulus.
Eubulus. Who deals with kings in matters of great weight,
When froward will doth bear the chiefest sway,
Must yield of force; there need no subtle sleight,
No painted[132] speech the matter to convey.
No prayer can move, when kindled is the ire.
The more ye quench, the more increased[133] the fire.
This thing I prove in Pithias’ woful case,
Whose heavy hap with tears I do lament:
The day is come, when he, in Damon’s place,
Must lose his life: the time is fully spent.
Nought can my words now with the king prevail,
Against the wind and striving stream[134] I sail:
For die thou must, alas! thou seely Greek.
Ah Pithias, now come is thy doleful hour:
A perfect friend, one[135] such a world to seek.
Though bitter death shall give thee sauce full sour,
Yet for thy faith enroll’d shall be thy name
Among the gods within the book of fame.
Who knoweth his case, and will not melt in tears?
His guiltless blood shall trickle down anon.
Then the Muses sing.
Alas, what hap hast thou, poor Pithias, now to die!
Woe worth the man which for his death hath given us cause to cry.
Eubulus. Methink I hear, with yellow rented hairs,
The Muses frame their notes, my state to moan: [136]
Among which sort, as one that mourneth with heart,
In doleful times myself will bear a part.
Muses. Woe worth the man which for his death, &c.
Eubulus. With yellow rented hairs, come on, you Muses nine;
Fill now my breast with heavy tunes, to me your plaint resign:
For Pithias I bewail, which presently must die,
Woe worth the man which for his death hath given us cause, &c.
Muses. Woe worth the man which for his, &c.
Eubulus. Was ever such a man, that would die for his friend?
I think even from the heavens above the gods did him down send
To show true friendship’s power, which forc’d thee now to die.
Woe worth the man which for thy death, &c.
Muses. Woe worth the man, &c.
Eubulus. What tiger’s whelp was he, that Damon did accuse?
What faith hast thou, which for thy friend thy death doth not refuse?
O heavy hap hadst thou to play this tragedy!
Woe worth the man which for thy death, &c.
Muses. [Woe] worth the man, &c.
Eubulus. Thou young and worthy Greek, that showeth such perfect love,
The gods receive thy simple ghost into the heavens above:
Thy death we shall lament with many a weeping eye.
Woe worth the man, which for his death, &c.
Muses. Woe worth the man, which for thy death hath given us cause to cry.
Eubulus. Eternal be your fame, ye Muses, for that in misery