No More Learning

SWINBURNE (_Study of Ben Jonson_, pp. 65-7): If _The Devil is an Ass_
cannot be ranked among the crowning masterpieces of its author, it is
not because the play shows any sign of decadence in literary power or
in humorous invention. The writing is admirable, the wealth of comic
matter is only too copious, the characters are as firm in outline or as
rich in color as any but the most triumphant examples of his satirical
or sympathetic skill in finished delineation and demarcation of humors.
On the other hand, it is of all Ben Jonson's comedies since the date
of _Cynthia's Revels_ the most obsolete in subject of satire, the most
temporary in its allusions and applications: the want of fusion or even
connection (except of the most mechanical or casual kind) between the
various parts of its structure and the alternate topics of its ridicule
makes the action more difficult to follow than that of many more
complicated plots: and, finally, the admixture of serious sentiment and
noble emotion is not so skilfully managed as to evade the imputation of
incongruity. [The dialogue between Lady Tailbush and Lady Eitherside
in Act 4. Sc. 1 has some touches 'worthy of Moliere himself. ' In Act
4. Sc. 3 Mrs. Fitzdottrel's speech possesses a 'a noble and natural
eloquence,' but the character of her husband is 'almost too loathsome
to be ridiculous,' and unfit 'for the leading part in a comedy of
ethics as well as of morals. '] The prodigality of elaboration lavished
on such a multitude of subordinate characters, at the expense of all
continuous interest and to the sacrifice of all dramatic harmony, may
tempt the reader to apostrophize the poet in his own words:

You are so covetous still to embrace
More than you can, that you lose all.

Yet a word of parting praise must be given to Satan: a small part as
far as extent goes, but a splendid example of high comic imagination
after the order of Aristophanes, admirably relieved by the low comedy
of the asinine Pug and the voluble doggrel by the antiquated Vice.




TEXT


EDITOR'S NOTE


The text here adopted is that of the original edition of 1631.
No changes of reading have been made; spelling, punctuation,
capitalization, and italics are reproduced. The original pagination
is inserted in brackets; the book-holder's marginal notes are inserted
where 1716 and Whalley placed them. In a few instances modern type has
been substituted for archaic characters. The spacing of the contracted
words has been normalized.

1641 = Pamphlet folio of 1641.
1692 = The Third Folio, 1692.
1716 = Edition of 1716 (17).
W = Whalley's edition, 1756.
G = Gifford's edition, 1816.
SD. = Stage directions at the beginning of a scene.
SN. = Side note, or book-holder's note.
om. = omitted.
ret. = retained.
f. = and all later editions.
G? = a regular change. After a single citation only
exceptions are noted. See Introduction, page xvi.

Mere changes of spelling have not been noted in the variants.
All changes of form and all suggestive changes of punctuation have
been recorded.




THE DIUELL IS AN ASSE:

A COMEDIE ACTED IN THE YEARE, 1616.

_BY HIS MAIESTIES_ SERVANTS.

The Author BEN: IONSON.

HOR. _de_ ART. POET.
_Ficta voluptatis Cau? a, ? int proxima veris. _

[DEVICE OF A GRIFFIN'S HEAD ERASED]

_LONDON_.

Printed by _I. B. _ for ROBERT ALLOT, and are
to be ? old at the ? igne of the _Beare_, in _Pauls_
Church-yard. 1631.




THE PERSONS OF THE PLAY.

SATAN. _The great diuell. _ [93]
PVG. _The le? ? e diuell. _
INIQVITY. _The Vice. _
FITZ-DOTTRELL. _A Squire of_ Norfolk.
Mi? tre? ? e FRANCES. _His wife. _ 5
MEERE-CRAFT. _The Proiector. _
EVERILL. _His champion. _
WITTIPOL. _A young Gallant. _
MANLY. _His friend. _
INGINE. _A Broaker. _ 10
TRAINES. _The Proiectors man. _
GVILT-HEAD. _A Gold-? mith. _
PLVTARCHVS. _His ? onne. _
Sir POVLE EITHER-SIDE. _A Lawyer, and Iu? tice. _
Lady EITHER-SIDE. _His wife. _ 15
Lady TAILE-BVSH. _The Lady Proiectre? ? e. _
PIT-FALL. _Her woman. _
AMBLER. _Her Gentlemanv? her. _
SLEDGE. _A Smith, the con? table. _
SHACKLES. _Keeper of Newgate. _ 20

SERIEANTS.

_The Scene_, LONDON.




The Prologue.


_The_ DIVELL _is an_ A? ? e. _That is, to day,
The name of what you are met for, a new Play.
Yet, Grandee's, would you were not come to grace
Our matter, with allowing vs no place.
Though you pre? ume_ SATAN _a ? ubtill thing, 5
And may haue heard hee's worne in a thumbe-ring;
Doe not on the? e pre? umptions, force vs act,
In compa? ? e of a chee? e-trencher. This tract
Will ne'er admit our_ vice, _becau? e of yours.
Anone, who, wor? e then you, the fault endures 10
That your ? elues make? when you will thru? t and ? purne,
And knocke vs o' the elbowes, and bid, turne;
As if, when wee had ? poke, wee mu? t be gone,
Or, till wee ? peake, mu? t all runne in, to one,
Like the young adders, at the old ones mouth? 15
Would wee could ? tand due_ North; _or had no_ South,
_If that offend: or were_ Mu? couy _gla? ? e,
That you might looke our_ Scenes _through as they pa? ? e.
We know not how to affect you. If you'll come
To ? ee new Playes, pray you affoord vs roome, 20
And ? hew this, but the ? ame face you haue done
Your deare delight, the_ Diuell _of_ Edmunton.
_Or, if, for want of roome it mu? t mi? -carry,
'Twill be but Iu? tice, that your cen? ure tarry,
Till you giue ? ome. And when ? ixe times you ha' ? een't, 25
If this_ Play _doe not like, the Diuell is in't. _

[93] Dramatis Personae 1716, f. G places the women's names after those
of the men.

[94] 1, 2 Devil 1692, f.

[95] 4 Fabian Fitzdottrel G

[96] 5 Mrs. Frances Fitzdottrel G || His wife] om. G

[97] 9 Eustace Manly G

[98] 10 Engine 1716, f.

[99] 12 Thomas Gilthead G

[100] 15 His wife] om. G

[101] 18 Gentleman-usher to lady Tailbush G

[102] 21 Serjeants, officers, servants, underkeepers, &c. G

[103] 22 The] om. 1716, W

[104] The Prologue. ] follows the title-page 1716, W

[105] 5 _subtle_ 1692 f.

[106] 10 than 1692, f. passim in this sense. Anon 1692, f.

[107] 12 o'] on G?

[108] 14 till] 'till 1716

[109] 25 ha'] have G?




THE DIVELL IS AN ASSE. [95]


ACT. I. SCENE. I.


DIVELL. PVG. INIQVITY.

Hoh, hoh, hoh, hoh, hoh, hoh, hoh, hoh, &c.
To earth? and, why to earth, thou foooli? h Spirit?
What wold'? t thou do on earth?

PVG. For that, great Chiefe!
As time ? hal work. I do but ask my mon'th.
Which euery petty _pui'nee Diuell_ has; 5
Within that terme, the Court of _Hell_ will heare
Some thing, may gaine a longer grant, perhaps.

SAT. For what? the laming a poore Cow, or two?
Entring a Sow, to make her ca? t her farrow?
Or cro? ?
ing of a Mercat-womans Mare, 10
Twixt this, and _Totnam_? the? e were wont to be
Your maine atchieuements, _Pug_, You haue ? ome plot, now,
Vpon a tonning of Ale, to ? tale the ye? t,
Or keepe the churne ? o, that the buttter come not;
Spight o' the hou? ewiues cord, or her hot ? pit? 15
Or ? ome good Ribibe, about _Kenti? h_ Towne,
Or _Hog? den_, you would hang now, for a witch,
Becau? e ? hee will not let you play round _Robbin_:
And you'll goe ? owre the Citizens Creame 'gain? t Sunday?
That ? he may be accus'd for't, and condemn'd, 20
By a _Middle? ex_ Iury, to the ? atisfaction
Of their offended friends, the _Londiners_ wiues
Who? e teeth were ? et on edge with it? Fooli? h feind,
Stay i' your place, know your owne ? trengths, and put not
Beyond the ? pheare of your actiuity. 25
You are too dull a Diuell to be tru? ted [96]
Forth in tho? e parts, _Pug_, vpon any affayre
That may concerne our name, on earth. It is not
Euery ones worke. The ? tate of _Hell_ mu? t care
Whom it imployes, in point of reputation, 30
Heere about _London_. You would make, I thinke
An Agent, to be ? ent, for _Lanca? hire_,
Proper inough; or ? ome parts of _Northumberland_,
So yo' had good in? tructions, _Pug_.

PVG. _O Chiefe! _
You doe not know, deare _Chiefe_, what there is in mee. 35
Proue me but for a fortnight, for a weeke,
And lend mee but a _Vice_, to carry with mee,
To practice there-with any play-fellow,
And, you will ? ee, there will come more vpon't,
Then you'll imagine, pretious _Chiefe_.

SAT. What _Vice_? 40
What kind would? t th' haue it of?

PVG. Why, any _Fraud_;
Or _Couetou? ne? ? e_; or Lady _Vanity_;
Or old _Iniquity_: I'll call him hither.

INI. What is he, calls vpon me, and would ? eeme to lack a _Vice_?
Ere his words be halfe ? poken, I am with him in a trice; 45
Here, there, and euery where, as the Cat is with the mice:
True _vetus Iniquitas_. Lack'? t thou Cards, friend, or Dice?
I will teach thee cheate, Child, to cog, lye, and ? wagger,
And euer and anon, to be drawing forth thy dagger:
To ? weare by Gogs-nownes, like a lusty _Iuuentus_, 50
In a cloake to thy heele, and a hat like a pent-hou? e.
Thy breeches of three fingers, and thy doublet all belly,
With a Wench that shall feede thee, with cock-? tones and gelly.

PVG. Is it not excellent, _Chiefe_? how nimble he is!

INI. Child of hell, this is nothing! I will fetch thee a leape 55
From the top of _Pauls_-? teeple, to the Standard in _Cheepe_:
And lead thee a daunce, through the ? treets without faile,
Like a needle of _Spaine_, with a thred at my tayle.
We will ? uruay the _Suburbs_, and make forth our ? allyes,
Downe _Petticoate-lane_, and vp the _Smock-allies_, 60
To _Shoreditch_, _Whitechappell_, and so to Saint _Kathernes_.
To drinke with the _Dutch_ there, and take forth their patternes:
From thence, wee will put in at _Cu? tome-hou? e_ key there,
And ? ee, how the Factors, and Prentizes play there,
Fal? e with their Ma? ters; and gueld many a full packe, 65
To ? pend it in pies, at the _Dagger_, and the _Wool-? acke_.

PVG. Braue, braue, _Iniquity_! will not this doe, _Chiefe_?

INI. Nay, boy, I wil bring thee to the Bawds, and the Roy? ters,
At _Belins-gate_, fea? ting with claret-wine, and oy? ters,
From thence ? hoot the _Bridge_, childe, to the Cranes
i' the _Vintry_, 70
And ? ee, there the gimblets, how they make their entry!
Or, if thou had? t rather, to the _Strand_ downe to fall,
'Gain? t the Lawyers come dabled from _We? tmin? ter-hall_ [97]
And marke how they cling, with their clyents together,
Like Iuie to Oake; so Veluet to Leather: 75
Ha, boy, I would ? hew thee.

PVG. Rare, rare!

DIV. Peace, dotard,
And thou more ignorant thing, that ? o admir'? t.
Art thou the ? pirit thou ? eem'? t? ? o poore? to choo? e
This, for a _Vice_, t'aduance the cau? e of _Hell_,
Now? as Vice ? tands this pre? ent yeere? Remember, 80
What number it is. _Six hundred_ and _? ixteene_.
Had it but beene _fiue hundred_, though ? ome _? ixty_
Aboue; that's _fifty_ yeeres agone, and _? ix_,
(When euery great man had his _Vice_ ? tand by him,
In his long coat, ? haking his wooden dagger) 85
I could con? ent, that, then this your graue choice
Might haue done that with his Lord _Chiefe_, the which
Mo? t of his chamber can doe now. But _Pug_,
As the times are, who is it, will receiue you?
What company will you goe to? or whom mix with? 90
Where can? t thou carry him? except to Tauernes?
To mount vp ona joynt-? toole, with a _Iewes_-trumpe,
To put downe _Cokeley_, and that mu? t be to Citizens?
He ne're will be admitted, there, where _Vennor_ comes.
Hee may perchance, in taile of a Sheriffes dinner, 95
Skip with a rime o' the Table, from _New-nothing_,
And take his _Almaine_-leape into a cu? tard,
Shall make my Lad _Maiore? ? e_, and her ? i? ters,
Laugh all their hoods ouer their shoulders. But,
This is not that will doe, they are other things 100
That are receiu'd now vpon earth, for Vices;
Stranger, and newer: and chang'd euery houre.
They ride 'hem like their hor? es off their legges,
And here they come to _Hell_, whole legions of 'hem,
Euery weeke tyr'd. Wee, ? till ? triue to breed, 105
And reare 'hem vp new ones; but they doe not ? tand,
When they come there: they turne 'hem on our hands.
And it is fear'd they haue a ? tud o' their owne
Will put downe ours. Both our breed, and trade
VVill ? uddenly decay, if we preuent not. 110
Vnle? ? e it be a _Vice_ of quality,
Or fa? hion, now, they take none from vs. Car-men
Are got into the yellow ? tarch, and Chimney-? weepers
To their tabacco, and ? trong-waters, _Hum_,
_Meath_, and _Obarni_. VVe mu? t therefore ayme 115
At extraordinary ? ubtill ones, now,
When we doe ? end to keepe vs vp in credit.
Not old _Iniquities_. Get you e'ne backe, Sir,
To making of your rope of ? and againe.
You are not for the manners, nor the times: [98] 120
They haue their _Vices_, there, mo? t like to _Vertues_;
You cannnot know 'hem, apart, by any difference:
They weare the ? ame clothes, eate the ? ame meate,
Sleepe i' the ? elfe-? ame beds, rid i' tho? e coaches.
Or very like, foure hor? es in a coach, 125
As the be? t men and women. Ti? ? ue gownes,
Garters and ro? es, foure? core pound a paire,
Embroydred ? tockings, cut-worke ? mocks, and ? hirts,
More certaine marks of lechery, now, and pride,
Then ere they were of true nobility! 130
But _Pug_, ? ince you doe burne with ? uch de? ire
To doe the Common-wealth of Hell ? ome ? eruice;
I am content, a? ? uming of a body,
You goe to earth, and vi? it men, a day.
But you mu? t take a body ready made, _Pug_, 135
I can create you none: nor ?