[_Enter_] PSYLLUS [_and_] MANES.
_Psyllus._ I shall be hanged for tarrying so long.
_Manes._ I pray God my master be not flowne before I come!
[_Enter Apelles._]
_Psyllus._ Away, Manes, my master doth come. [_Exit Manes._]
_Apel._ Where have you beene all this while?
_Psyllus._ Nowhere but here. 5
_Apel._ Who was here sithens my comming?
_Psyllus._ Nobodie.
_Apel._ Ungracious wag, I perceive you have beene a loytering! Was
Alexander nobodie?
_Psyllus._ He was a king, I meant no mean bodie. 10
_Apel._ I will cudgell your bodie for it, and then will I say it
was no bodie, because it was no honest bodie. Away, in! _Exit
Psyllus._ Unfortunate Apelles, and therefore unfortunate because
Apelles! Hast thou by drawing her beautie brought to passe that
thou canst scarce draw thine owne breath? And by so much the
more hast thou increased thy care by how much the more hast 15
thou[901] shewed thy cunning? Was it not sufficient to behold the
fire and warme thee, but with Satyrus thou must kisse the fire
and burne thee? O Campaspe, Campaspe! Art must yeeld to nature,
reason to appetite, wisdome to affection! Could Pigmalion entreate
by prayer to have his ivory turned into flesh, and cannot 20
Apelles obtaine by plaints to have the picture of his love changed
to life? Is painting so farre inferiour to carving? Or dost thou,
Venus, more delight to bee hewed with chizels then shadowed with
colours? What Pigmalion, or what Pyrgoteles, or what Lysippus is
hee,[902] that ever made thy face so faire or spread thy fame 25
so farre as I? Unlesse, Venus, in this thou enviest mine art, that
in colouring my sweet Campaspe I have left no place by cunning to
make thee so amiable.[903] But, alas, shee is the paramour to a
prince! Alexander, the monarch of the earth, hath both her body and
affection. For what is it that kings cannot obtaine by prayers, 30
threats, and promises? Will not shee thinke it better to sit under
a cloth of estate[904] like a queene than in a poore shop like a
huswife, and esteeme it sweeter to be the concubine of the lord of
the world than spouse to a painter in Athens? Yes, yes, Apelles,
thou maist swimme against the streame with the crab, and feede 35
against the winde with the deere, and peck against the steele with
the cockatrice:[905] starres are to be looked at, not reached at;
princes to be yeelded unto, not contended with; Campaspe to be
honoured, not obtained; to be painted, not possessed of thee. O
faire face! O unhappy hand! And why didst thou drawe it--so 40
faire a face? O beautifull countenance, the expres image of Venus,
but somwhat fresher, the only patterne of that eternitie which
Jupiter dreaming, asleepe, could not conceive againe waking! Blush,
Venus, for I am ashamed to ende thee! Now must I paint things
unpossible for mine art but agreeable with my affections,--deepe 45
and hollow sighes, sad and melancholie thoughtes, woundes and
slaughters of conceits, a life posting to death, a death galloping
from life, a wavering constancie, an unsetled resolution, and
what not, Apelles? And what but Apelles?[906] But as they that
are shaken with a feaver are to be warmed with cloathes, not 50
groanes, and as he that melteth in a consumption is to be recured
by colices,[907] not conceits, so the feeding canker of my care,
the never-dying worme of my heart, is to be killed by counsell,
not cries, by applying of remedies, not by replying of reasons.
And sith in cases desperate there must be used medicines that
are extreame, I will hazard that little life that is left, to 55
restore the greater part that is lost; and this shall be my first
practise,--for wit must worke where authoritie is not,--as soone as
Alexander hath viewed this portraiture, I will by devise give it a
blemish, that by that meanes she may come againe to my shop; and
then as good it were to utter my love and die with deniall as 60
conceale it and live in dispaire.